“Oh, okay. Could you maybe ask Lucy, when she gets in, if she remembers someone coming in at around that time then? It was the thirty-first floor. And it’s Mia Eliot, apartment three one zero eight.”
He looks at me for moment before sighing loudly and grabbing a pen and a stack of sticky notes. “Mia El-i-ot…apartment number?”
“Three one zero eight.”
“Three one zero eight. Right…unwanted visitor two a.m. to four a.m. Question mark.”
I think this is as good as I’m going to get from him. “Right. That’s great, thank you for your help. And Lucy’s definitely not in until six p.m.?”
“No, she is not.”
I guess I’ll have to wait until six then.
* * *
—
Back in the apartment I call Cynthia in London, who’s surprised to receive a call so late on a Sunday night. Without giving reasons I ask her to find me new accommodations as soon as possible. I’m guessing it’ll be for tomorrow night now at this short notice, unless I’m willing to check into a regular hotel—though I’m not sure how much safer that would be than here. At least here there aren’t all those people coming and going through the night. And when I speak to Lucy, I’ll make sure she changes my door code and that’s she’s on high alert if I need to stay tonight.
Cynthia agrees to find new accommodations for me without hesitation, asking only if everything is all right. I tell her I’m fine but request that she find me somewhere with very good security, I’m pretty sure she fills in her own blanks. It’s unlikely she’s missed the news about George and Naomi Fairn’s new relationship so I’m sure she’s got plenty to speculate on. I reassure her I’m still focused on work and I’ll be going to the screen test tomorrow but I tell her that I’ll need to leave LA the day after the test. Reassured and relieved that I haven’t flown off the rails, she agrees to arrange a flight home for me for Tuesday.
With an escape plan in place I dive into my script knowing that, come six o’clock, I’ll know who exactly is threatening me and I should be in a better position to protect myself with the help of Lucy.
I manage to get four hours of line learning done before my phone pings with a text. Nick wants to know if Sushi is okay? I stare at the message, confused, then remember the dinner plan we made last night for this evening. I had completely forgotten. He says he’s booked us into a new restaurant. It opened on Friday and, he jokes, it’s hard to get a booking there, let alone on Valentine’s. I check my phone’s locked screen, and he’s right, today is the fourteenth of February, Valentine’s Day. I don’t know how on earth he’s managed to book us in somewhere like this on one of the busiest nights of the year. In spite of everything that’s happening, I feel a little thrill of pleasure at the idea that he’s tried so hard to impress me. He says he’ll pick me up at five.
I start to compose a text to cancel the plan but stop. Lucy isn’t in until six p.m.; if I go out for an early dinner, I can be back here by seven. If the message I left her gets passed on, she might have had time to find the footage from last night by the time I get back. And God knows, it would be good to get out of this apartment.
Also, it crosses my mind that if I told Nick half of what was going on with me, he’d probably insist I stay over at his place tonight. And while I’m not sure I know him well enough for that just yet, the thought is reassuring.
I manage another four hours of script work before he arrives and I feel I’m in a very good place when he pulls up, bang on time, in the apartment’s porte cochere.
He gives me a beaming smile through the windscreen and I slip into the passenger seat beside him. His car is understatedly expensive, smelling of new car leather and his cologne. The hairs along my arms rise being suddenly so close to him.
“Hey, you!” He looks me up and down appreciatively. Clingy black silk dress, gold hoop earrings, and hair up. I thought I’d better at least try to fit in with the crowd I’m sure we’ll be seeing at this newly opened it-restaurant.