“Roy Hobbs.”
“Sorry.”
“Umm… The Sundance Kid?”
“No.”
“Warren Justice?”
“Who?”
“Brubaker?”
Her face sparked as she gave me a conspiratorial grin. And none too soon, either. I was this close to running out of Redford characters.
“Actually, Mr. Brubaker just checked out about an hour ago.”
I knew Trip’s flight wasn’t until six o’clock and that there was no way he’d be spending all the hours until then hanging around the airport.
“So… Is he in one of the restaurants?”
“The TRU doesn’t make a policy of monitoring their many guests once they’ve checked out of the hotel.”
Sweetheart, I do not have time for this.
“Look. You and I both know that Mr. Brubaker isn’t just any guest here.” I wanted to lunge across the desk and shake her, but I made myself remain calm. “Give me a break here, huh? You know I know him! Don’t you remember me? I was here a few weeks ago. Can’t you please just tell me exactly where the hell he is? It’s important.”
She gave a chortle and said, “I’m just messing with you. He’s really not here.”
“But his flight isn’t until six.”
“He got an earlier one.”
I considered the impulse to race over to the airport. “JFK?”
“Newark, I think. No, wait. Laguardia?”
I was in over my head. I had no idea when his new flight was leaving, but there definitely wasn’t enough time to scour three different airports.
Just as I was considering my next move, she said, “I just messaged a package to you, by the way. You are that reporter from the other day, right? I knew the name on the delivery sheet looked familiar. I was supposed to send it yesterday. Sorry. I made sure to send it out first thing this morning, though, so no harm done.”
Chapter 27
WHATEVER IT TAKES
I dragged myself home, feeling all worked up and completely let down. I’d missed my chance. Trip was gone.
Sure enough, there was a package waiting for me on the floor near the mailboxes. It was large, but light, so I tossed it on top of my pile of stuff from the office and hauled the whole shebang up my forty-two steps, sinking to the floor in the middle of my living room to open my birthday present from Trip. No way was I waiting the extra three days until it was official.
I ripped off the packing tape and folded back the flaps of the box.
And when I did… my heart stopped.
I literally gasped—a dramatic, soap-opera inhale—the air sucked quickly into my lungs, where it held, indefinitely, as my brain tried to process what my eyes were seeing. The epiphany hit me hard; a bucket of ice water thrown in my face.
I was sitting in the middle of my apartment, surrounded by a mountain of tissue paper, and in my hands I was holding… a Dukes of Hazzard lunchbox.
Oh. My. God.
My stomach clenched, my chest constricted, my hands shook.
I ran my trembling fingers across the relief map of my damaged childhood, the images of my old friends: Daisy. Luke. Bo (my first blond crush). I touched the raised letters of the title, noticed the slight dent on the hood of the General Lee. A shaky breath escaped, and the image blurred before my eyes.
There was no misreading this. Trip had sent me an innocent-looking metal box, but he may as well have mailed me his heart. Suddenly, everything made complete and perfect sense.
Trip hadn’t been asking me for one night.
He was asking me for forever.
And oh my God! I sent him packing!
I lunged for my phone and punched in Sandy’s number. All I could think was that I had to talk to him. I had to see him.
She answered, mercifully, on the second ring. “Sandy Carron.”
“Sandy! It’s Layla Warren. I’m trying to get ahold of Trip. It’s really important.”
“Oh, hi, Layla. Hope everything’s okay.”
No. Everything was most decidedly not okay.
“Yes, I just really need to talk to him.”
“Well, last we spoke, he was at the hotel. Didn’t you try there?”
“Yes, of course. But he already checked out. The concierge said he grabbed an earlier flight.”
“Hmm. That’s strange. He normally has me rearranging his schedule.”
She gave a chuckle, and I didn’t want to be rude, but I didn’t have time for screwing around. “Aren’t you with him?” I asked, stupidly.
“No, I just got back to L.A. myself. I’m surprised he didn’t check in, but I guess he wouldn’t have been able to contact me if I were on a plane.”
Small talk. Grrr. “Is there any way I can get in touch with him?” I knew Trip refused to own a mobile, a rebellion made much easier due to the fact that everyone in his immediate circle always had phones of their own.
“Yeah, sure, I have to imagine he’s with Hunter, and that kid’s always got his phone on him. But let me try it first. I’ll call you back.”
“Okay. You have my number.”