Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
John is an X-Phile.
I’m a natural at electronics.
This mans hands feel like they do more than just write.
A movement through my bedroom window tore my attention away from my screen.
My fingertips burned so much from frantic typing that I was surprised not to see them bloody when I finally stopped.
I leaned back in my chair, watching the outline of a figure through the flurry of white.
Judging by the poor visibility, the storm was hitting us soon.
I compiled the manuscript, ready to attach it to the email that would decide the fate of my father’s bookstore.
But first, my nervous bladder forced me to vacate my seat.
The sound of zippers being pulled and suitcases being dragged across the hallway floor filtered through the bathroom walls.
An odd sense of agitation filled me. These five days had rushed past too fast. Had I really done everything I could?
Would this be enough? I wondered who would be invited back.
I crossed my fingers it would be me, May, and Jeremy.
May had offered to drop me off on her way home, me being the only one without a car. I was glad—the thought of Otis in a snowstorm…possibly coming off the road…I shook my head. Wouldn’t risk it.
I splashed water onto my face and then threw my cosmetics into a bag. As I opened the bathroom door, I nearly ran into a wall that hadn’t been there before.
“Sorry,” I said to John, rubbing my face. “No, wait, I’m not.”
“Charming,” he said. “Ready?” He was holding his laptop under one arm and a leather duffel bag in the other.
“Yup.”
He hmmmed but didn’t get out of the way. Instead, he shouldered the bag, then slid a hand into his pocket, watching me. There was an odd tension between us. The lightness of earlier had dissipated. He opened his mouth as if to say something but then…didn’t.
“Okay then,” I said, not wanting to waste another moment before sending in my book. But when I stepped around him, I halted in the doorway. “What the—?”
Basically tripping over myself, I burst back into my room, checking the space where I’d been working the last few hours. Then the bed. Then under the bed. Then my bag. Then under the wardrobe.
“What…are you doing?” John peeked inside my room, watching me crawl around on all fours, having a panic attack.
“It’s gone. How…what…how?” I panted, sitting cross-legged on the bedroom floor.
“Are you having a mental breakdown?”
“Maybe. What are the signs?” Wait. I glared at John. “Was it you? It was you, wasn’t it?” I scrambled to my feet and stabbed my finger into his chest, which was a bad idea because now, adding to my invisible laptop, I potentially had a broken finger.
John grabbed my hand before I could hurt myself any further, keeping me still. “What are you talking about, Nora?”
My mind felt like a beehive. Panic-ridden thoughts scrambled over one another. “My laptop is gone.”
“What do you mean it’s gone?”
I pulled my hand from his, inspecting it. Nothing broken. Well, that’s something.
“I left it right here,” I pointed to the desk, “then I went to the bathroom, and when I got out…” I waved at the place where it definitely had been just moments ago.
“Did you take it? Did you throw it out of the window?” I rushed to said window, checking the white carpet that had covered the garden below.
But there was nothing out there but a pair of footprints.
This couldn’t be happening.
“Why would I take your laptop?”
“I don’t know,” I said, waving my arms frantically around. “Because you’re evil. Because you never want to see me again. Because my book was good and you knew it!”
I was shaking.
“Is that the person you think I am?” John couldn’t quite cross his arms because he was still holding his laptop. So he hugged it to his chest instead, which seemed…suspicious.
I pointed my finger at it. “Show me. Open the laptop and prove it isn’t mine.”
“Nora—”
“What’s going on here?” Charlene peeked over John’s shoulder.
“Someone took it. I didn’t send it in yet, I didn’t—” My breath came out ragged and too fast. I started feeling dizzy, the corners of the room growing fuzzy.
“Hush, Nora, breathe.” She appeared in front of me, gently pushing me down onto my bed.
I shook my head. “No time for breathing. I gotta send the file, but it’s gone, it’s—”
Charlene crouched before me, both her hands resting on my legs.
I couldn’t believe she was seeing me like this. That John was seeing me like this. And judging by the shadows in my peripheral vision, the rest had just arrived, having a front row seat at the Nora-is-a-crazy-person show.
The bed dipped beside me. Warmth brushed my shoulder, then the side of my leg.
“Here,” John’s dark, soothing voice said. He opened his laptop, and instead of my username and the drawing I’d added as a background, a picture of the fattest cat I’d ever seen popped up.
I couldn’t help but let out a raspy, sad giggle. “What in the world is that?”
John huffed, his warm breath brushing the shell of my ear. “That’s Queequeg. My cat.”
“Oh,” I said, a little numb. I suddenly felt stupid. Accusing him of stealing my laptop. “Like, from Moby Dick?”
“Yes and no. The X-Files. Scully’s—”
“Scully’s dog. The one that got eaten by an alligator in the episode by the lake.
” I nodded, as if this was common knowledge and not some weird fandom inside joke.
But I would have to mull over the sudden realization that John and I had things in common later.
Right now, I was on the train to mental breakdown town.
Charlene patted my leg. I peeked at her through my fingers. “Are you sure you didn’t leave it anywhere else?”
“I shook my head. I was gone for maybe a minute.”
“That’s… unfortunate.” She looked over her shoulder at the rest of the contestants cramming themselves into the doorway. As if to underline the time crunch we were in, the wind howled.
She grimaced. “We really gotta leave.”
“I can’t leave now,” I said, the panic already rising in me again. “I left it right there on the desk and when I came back, it had disappeared. Someone must have taken it.”
“Are you sure?” said Elaine from the doorway. “You did drink quite a bit. Maybe you just forgot where you put it.” I wanted to hurl my entire collector’s edition of Lew Elliot’s hardcovers at her face.
A tree branch snapped against the window.
Charlene flinched. Then stood. “I’m sorry, Nora. We really gotta go.” Her usually healthy complexion had gone pale at the sight of the trees lashing outside.
John was quiet, watching me. His emotions unreadable.
“Well, I’m heading out.” Elaine straightened. “Looking forward to seeing some of you again.”
I shot her a glare filled with daggers.
John turned to Charlene. “I’ll stay with Nora. Help her find the missing laptop and make sure she sends the file as soon as possible.”
“What? No!” I said, standing, looking at him like he had grown an extra head.
But Charlene nodded absent-mindedly. “Okay. Yes. Fine. I’ll let the board know. But Nora—” She waved a finger in my direction. “No more edits. Send it straight away.”
Charlene was watching me with an air of distrust, like she was equally sorry for me while also blaming me for this clusterfuck. Did she really believe Elaine? That I’d drunk too much and lost my laptop?
“As soon as we find it, I’ll drive you home,” John said calmly, handing over his laptop to Charlene.
I bit my nails, thoughts tumbling over one another. I had no choice, did I? Just then, the lights flickered.
“Blimey,” Jeremy said, looking a little pale himself. “I sure hope I’ll see you again, Nora, but not enough for me to stay and possibly get killed in a snowstorm, so…tata.” He stepped across the room in two long strides and gave me a brisk hug. “Best of luck.”
“You got this, girl,” May waved from the doorframe.
“Get home safely, and text me when it’s through,” Charlene said before shouldering her bag.
Then it was just the two of us.
I watched John suspiciously as he slid his hands into his pockets. No one spoke. The front door shut. I tried to hide my flinch.
“Don’t worry,” he said finally, in that dark tone of his.
This man could narrate a phone book and people would buy the shit out of it.
“I’m not going to ravish you.” Then he winked.
Instead of the panic I’d just felt, a flicker of anger licked my belly.
Like this was some sort of joke to him. Like all of this was a joke to him.
Then his words sunk in. Something warm spread in my stomach and probably also my face.
Annoyance, yes, but also…disappointment? WTF Nora?
The lights flickered again.
The tension broke. “Right.” I turned on the spot. “Let’s find that mysterious laptop that seems to have grown legs.” As I stepped through my bedroom door and into a cold puddle, I texted Otis.
Storm here. I’ll get back sometime tonight.
Immediately, three dots appeared.
Everything ok?
TBD. If I don’t turn up for work, send the cops.
Will do. Kiss.
Nothing. Again.
I closed yet another cupboard with a little too much force. By now, it was clear I hadn’t just misplaced my laptop. Someone had hidden it deliberately. And, for all I knew, that someone had slipped my work into their suitcase and dragged me out of the competition.
“I’m pretty sure they have tracking,” John said, walking up to me as I was gazing out over the front porch, like a widow waiting for my laptop to return from war.
“Huh?” I said. I felt beaten, tired, and still fucking angry.
“Whoever took it can’t have taken it out of the house. They insure these things in case an angry writer throws it against the wall.” John leaned against the doorframe next to me.
“So you believe me when I say someone took it?”
“I think,” he said, facing me, “someone was jealous.”
“Of what? The amount of praise I received?” I asked mockingly.
“You have a unique angle. It may have scared someone off.” The shadows seemed to carve out his cheekbones even further.