So that was her.
After Redmond took off, I got out of my truck and headed inside. The lobby was tiny, just a couple sofas on a rug on the opposite side of the room from the desk.
Nobody was there except the manager, who smiled at me but returned to her work when I showed no signs of approaching.
I sat on one of the sofas, tense, leaning forward with my hands clasped. She must've gone upstairs to her room first. I suddenly washed cold with doubt. What if she’d changed her hair, cut it all off? I might not even know who she was when she came down.
We’d been in dim places for almost the entire three hours we knew each other. I suddenly doubted my ability to recognize her.
The wait was interminable. I finally texted Redmond to say I was there and ask if I should get Jenny’s direct number.
He said no, Jenny would give it to me. Just be patient.
So I sat a little longer.
The woman at the desk glanced at me occasionally. If our eyes met, I’d nod casually. After a while, that gesture seemed strained, so I made sure I never looked her way.
The elevator dinged, and I jumped to my feet. I straightened my collar. My heart was hammering ninety to nothing.
But when the doors opened, a little old lady in a walker inched forward. I sank back down to the cushion. I was actually starting to sweat it out a little. Was this one of those girl things? Making the guy wait?
Then I realized the lady was turning to thank someone behind her. I watched her move slowly out of the way, then an arm appeared, and a hip in jeans. Someone was holding the door.
When I saw the shoulder covered with pink dreadlocks, I stood up again. As soon as the older woman was clear, Jenny popped out of the elevator. She jumped aside to avoid the walker, then came to a dead stop when she saw me standing there.
She looked both different and the same. Her hair was as I remembered, long and pink and wild. I don’t know why I even thought I could have forgotten that face. Seeing it again, I felt like I’d only looked at her just yesterday.
But instead of a fancy dress and killer heels, she wore soft jeans and a blue T-shirt with a giant daisy on the front. Her feet were encased in funny little hot pink high-tops.
She gave a little wave. I felt dumbstruck, seeing her again. This girl had come all the way from California, looking for me.
“Funny running into you again,” she said.
I laughed. “It’s a small country.”
She smoothed her hair back from her face and sat on the other sofa. I lowered back down, returning to my leaning position.
“I can’t believe you were so close,” she said. “I thought it would take weeks to track you down.”
“Just happened to be looping back across,” I said.
“Did you hitch back here all the way from LA?”
“Nah. After I left, I went up to Portland for a few days, then I decided to just skip all the way across to New York. Took a bus.”
“A bus.” Her eyes flitted along my face, my button-down shirt, my jeans. “I don’t think I’ve ever ridden a bus.”
“Well, I’d never ridden in a limo,” I said.
She huffed out a little laugh. “I never did up until Frankie.” She frowned after she said his name. “I’m sorry about the gossip rags.”
My fingers tightened. “So tell me about this director guy.”
She bit her lip in such a cute way I wanted to nibble at it too. But we had this stuff to get through first. I waited for her to answer. She was clearly trying to put the right words together.
“We had an…agreement. I was sort of a publicity tool for him. Not a real girlfriend.”
This made me sit up a little straighter. “Are you one of those high-end call girls?”
“No!” she said quickly, the sound echoing in the empty room. The woman at the front desk looked up.
Jenny noticed her and her face turned pink. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.” She stood up and looked around. “I guess to my room.”
She seemed hesitant, so I took the gentleman’s route even though I didn’t want to. “I have my truck. We can go somewhere. A restaurant, maybe.”
Jenny glanced at the front door, then back at the elevator. “No, it’s fine. We can go up.” She shoved her hands in her front pockets and the innocent gesture had the opposite effect on me. The T-shirt pulled tight across her chest and all the images of her on the beach came roaring back. She and me, alone in a room. Sounded like a recipe for a crazy night, but I wouldn’t make any assumptions.
Not yet.
“Then we’ll go up,” I said, and followed her to the elevator.
She seemed timid when we were closed up inside. She pressed the button for the third floor and stared at the panel. I could smell her bath soap, fruity and light. The urge to touch her pink hair was almost impossible to suppress.
“So how did you find me?” I asked. “Couldn’t have been easy.”