Only, my patience started to wear thin as the minutes dragged on and on.
Eventually, I sat down on the floor and looked at the scar tissue on my knuckles.
Thought about Quarry, the FBI, and how my life seemed to have spiraled completely out of control in a matter of weeks.
Don’t forget about Brooklyn. What if she isn’t just late—what if she’s pregnant?
But I refused to even entertain that idea. Brooklyn was just a mosquito, a pain in the ass. She wasn’t worth thinking about.
Finally, I heard Carter saying that they’d done good work and he was going to head back to his room.
I stood up and walked to the bathroom door.
“Do you think Dr. Klaxton is going to like what we did?” she asked him.
“I think he’s going to like what you did,” Carter said.
I shook my head, gritting my teeth. This dude was trying to smooth talk her.
There was some mumbling that I couldn’t make out, and then I heard the hotel door open and close. I let one or two seconds go by before leaving the bathroom, and then I threw the door open and came out.
Lindsay was checking her phone for some reason. She glanced up at me. “Sorry you had to stay in the bathroom for so long, Justin.”
I had so much adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream—I felt like a twitchy cokehead or something. I stood in the center of the room, just staring at her. “You already texting with that guy again?”
“I just need to make sure he got the final slide set that I sent over.”
“Oh, that’s all.”
“Why are you angry?” she said, as her phone buzzed again. She began typing away a response.
Another surge of anger poured through me. “Why am I angry? Are you seriously going to act like I have no reason to be annoyed right now?”
Lindsay put her phone aside and came towards me with a smile. “Come on, the bathroom’s not so bad. It’s practically as big as my entire dorm room.”
As her hands went around my shoulders and slid behind my neck, I stepped back and pulled out of her grasp. “Don’t try and play me.”
Her smile instantly disappeared and her eyes became wounded. “I’m not playing you, Justin.”
“I heard the way he talked to you.”
“What? What did he even say?”
“It was the way he said it.”
She turned away from me, shaking her head. “I knew it was a mistake to let you come. You promised you weren’t going to do this. You promised.”
“So I’m supposed to pretend it’s cool with me if you flirt with another dude while you make me hide in a bathroom like some chump?”
“I can’t take this. I can’t. I’m working hard, I’m stressed—“
“You can’t take it? Oh, well, then—let me make things easier for you, Lindsay.”
I grabbed my jacket and quickly made my way to the door, threw it open and walked out into the hallway.
I wanted to punch my fist through the wall, but somehow—barely—I kept my calm and continued walking.
“Justin!” I heard her call out.
I didn’t turn around, and instead took a quick turn into the stairwell, rather than waiting at the elevator. Once inside the stairwell, I ran down the stairs as fast as possible.
She wasn’t going to be able to follow me. I didn’t want to listen to her excuses or her accusations. I didn’t want to hear how this was all somehow my fault when I knew that I had every right to be pissed.
Was it possible I’d just been played by her all along?
No.
Maybe, though. Maybe you were just wrong about her. Maybe she’s not as innocent as you thought she was.
I hit the street and started walking with a purpose. I needed to get to the nearest bar.
***
After my third beer, I was feeling better.
Well, better wasn’t the right word. Maybe I just stopped giving a fuck.
I left the first bar and made my way outside and started walking again, determined to find something quick and easy to eat. I was hungry but I wanted to keep drinking.
There was a hot dog stand on the corner of one street and I bought three hot dogs.
I paid the guy and stood right next to his stand, eating them. They were good, smothered in ketchup and mustard. I chowed them down in a matter of minutes and turned back, handing him another ten-dollar bill. I held up three fingers.
The guy nodded, smiling. “You have big appetite,” he said, in heavily accented English.
“That I do,” I replied. I pulled out my phone, then remembered that I’d turned it off so as not to even worry about whether or not Lindsay was trying to call me.
If she was calling me, I didn’t want to impulsively answer out of weakness. If she didn’t try and contact me, I would be furious and want to call or text her to tell her off.
Either way, the phone was a no-no right then.
I put it away and took my three freshly made hot dogs and ate them almost as quick as the first three.