Nick’s face cracks into a smile and I fail to suppress a giggle. I’m so happy.
“Shall we get the bill?” he asks, quietly.
I nod. “Yeah, if I stand half a chance at getting any sleep before tomorrow, we’d better,” I answer, gently. I can’t go home with Nick tonight, even if I’d like nothing more than to do that and then stay there with him indefinitely. Even if I need to enlist Lucy as a night guard and to barricade my own apartment door, the most important thing is that I am rested and ready for tomorrow. I can’t let myself be derailed by threats and I certainly can’t let myself be derailed by horniness.
When he pulls up outside the Ellis Building to drop me off, he takes my cool hand in his warm one and squeezes. It’s strange but I haven’t felt this close to another living person in a while, not even to George in our final year. I try to remember the last time a man took my hand; ironically George’s first premiere comes to mind.
A cloud passes over my thoughts as I remember that I’m leaving LA after the test tomorrow. I can’t stay and I might never see this man again. I lean in and kiss Nick once more, desperately.
The sound of a car horn blares in the far distance, breaking the spell. As I emerge from the car I feel the safety of his gaze on me, taking in the delicate fabric of my dress as it clings and shifts with the contours of my body, until I disappear into the apartment building.
27
Video Footage
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 14
Lucy is ready and waiting for me at reception when I enter, her sober expression bringing me back down to earth with a jolt. She obviously got my note.
“I heard about the issue last night,” she confirms as I approach.
“Thank God. And did you see anyone come in at around that time?”
“No one. Just your assistant,” she says. “No one else came in.”
“My assistant?” I repeat straight back at her.
She seems momentarily baffled by the question. “Yeah, Michelle, your assistant.”
The air is sucked completely out of me. “Lucy, I don’t have an assistant,” I hear myself say. I try to maintain my composure, completely dumbfounded, but my heart is already hammering, my body fizzing with instinctive panic as the implications of what she is saying begin to spiral out of my control. “I don’t even know anyone called Michelle,” I continue. “Okay. Is there a chance you might be mixing me up with another person, another apartment?” I can hear the desperate hopefulness my voice.
Lucy lets out a nervous laugh. “No, of course not, I’m talking about Michelle. Your personal assistant, Michelle.”
I involuntarily slam a palm down onto the counter. “Lucy, I do not have a personal assistant. I just don’t have one, okay? I don’t know anyone called Michelle.”
I watch the meaning of what I’m saying seep into her, and her face slowly falls. “Oh,” she says in a tone that tells me I am not going to like what’s coming next.
I take in a slow breath. “Lucy, has somebody called Michelle been going into my apartment?”
Lucy’s eyes have a low-key wildness to them as she nods, her lips pursed. “Yeah,” she answers.
A silence falls across the counter as the full ramifications of that pass silently between us.
“Okay,” I finally manage.
“But she had a key. She said she was your assistant.” Lucy shakes her head slowly in disbelief at what seems to have transpired.
She had a key. She had my lost apartment key from four days ago. I think of Joanne. Has Joanne been paying me nighttime visits? Whoever it was has had my key for four nights. How many times have they been in?