“Can I ask what exactly happened yesterday?” I ask. “I mean, sorry to be rude, but where the hell did you go?”
There’s a subtle flicker of annoyance behind Emily’s eyes. “Ah, yeah. I guess I owe you an explanation, right?” She smiles apologetically. “I’ve kind of been having a bit of man trouble, so to speak. It’s complicated. I’m so sorry about the whole thing; getting you involved, putting you out.” She shakes her head at what I assume is the ludicrousness of her situation. “Basically, after you went down to feed the meter, I got a call, from my ex”—she rolls her eyes—“so I took it in the restroom. It was kind of an emergency and you were in your audition by then so I had to get an Uber across town to go sort it out straightaway rather than wait for you to finish and get my keys. I should have waited, or left a note like you did, but it was pretty time-sensitive. Anyway, the whole thing went on for ages and my phone ran out. So I only got your message when I finally got home and charged my phone this afternoon. It’s been intense”—she raises both hands, ringed forefingers crossed—“but hopefully I’m rid of this guy now.”
Jesus. I guess I was wrong about her not being the sort to take shit from boyfriends. But then I suppose even Jane took shit from her boyfriend.
It’s a vague story and I find it difficult to believe something could have been such an emergency that she’d have to leave her bank card with a complete stranger. But then conveniently she hasn’t actually told me what the emergency was. Again I feel Jane nudging me on. The plastic contours of Emily’s car keys sweaty in my hands, I decide that I deserve to know more. I’ve spent a day and a half of my life worrying about her.
“What did you have to sort out exactly?” I ask, my tone blunt.
She’s caught off guard by the directness of the question. I watch her realize that I still have her keys and wallet and she doesn’t have any choice but to answer. This woman who doesn’t quite look like Emily.
“Oh, okay. I broke up with my boyfriend a few months ago,” she answers dutifully. “But he’s turned up in LA the other day. And I got a call from someone in the building where I’m renting an apartment.” She shakes her head. “It was a neighbor, the woman next door. She was calling because a man was climbing in one of my windows.” She gives me a quick tight smile, and I can see where this story is going. “So I asked the neighbor what he looked like and she described my ex so I told her to tell him she was calling the cops. So she tells him that and he freaks out and he falls off the window ledge. He hits the ground at a funny angle, and he’s flailing around, yelling, and I can hear her shouting at him down the line and then he goes quiet. Completely blacked out. Turns out he broke his ankle. She tells me she’s calling an ambulance but I tell her not to because I know he doesn’t have health insurance because he’s still on my joint insurance. So I tell her to wait and then I look around for you in the waiting room but you’ve gone into your audition already so I called an Uber. I get back to my place, grab him, and take him to the ER, and then we’re there for like twelve hours. I had to call his family and tell them what happened. Which was the worst. Then I rang my insurer and had him taken off my policy afterward. And then my phone died.” She sighs heavily, her story complete. “So that’s what I had to sort out.”
I feel embarrassed for making her tell me.
“God. That sounds awful. Is he okay now, your ex?” I ask.
“Yeah I guess.” She shrugs wryly. “Although, kind of not my problem anymore.”
“Here,” I say, passing her the wallet and keys with a sympathetic smile.
She pockets the wallet with one hand, then she looks down at the keys in her other hand and nods a thank-you. “Great. Thanks again. Oh, and thanks for paying the meter. That was nice of you. Not many people would have done that. I should reimburse you.”
“Well actually, I can’t take full credit for paying all—” My eyes catch the glint of something in her open palm, the hallway lights reflecting off an Audi badge, and suddenly I realize I’ve handed her my car keys instead of hers. She waits for me to continue, and when I don’t her eyes drop to the keys in her hand too. But she’s looking right at them oblivious to the mix-up. How does she not know that they aren’t hers?
My blood suddenly runs cold. I didn’t misremember her. This isn’t Emily.
The woman’s forehead puckers. “Is everything okay?” she asks.
“I think I gave you my own car keys there, by accident.”
She looks down at them again and seems taken aback. “Oh, right?”
“Yeah, see, those are for an Audi. What type was your car again?” I ask innocently, though of course I know perfectly well.
Her eyebrows shoot up at the implication of the question. “God, I literally have no idea. It’s just a rental. It’s white?”
She hands back my keys unconcerned. I can’t tell if she’s the worst liar in the world or if I’m going completely mad.
“Could I grab mine then?” she asks, and I realize I’m just staring at her again.
“Sure.” I grab her set from the table beside the door and hand them over. “Here. Sorry about that.” Somehow my voice sounds normal but my thoughts are going at lightning speed trying to work out what the hell I’m supposed to do.
“Great.” She smiles and slip the keys into her rucksack. “Thanks again, for everything, Mia. I owe you one.”
I don’t have much time left. If I’m going to say something. If I’m going to confront her it needs to be now. “We still on for that coffee this weekend?” I blurt.
She looks at me startled, but quickly recovers. “Oh yeah, God, I almost forgot we said we’d do that. Yeah, sure.” She shakes her head at her own flakiness. “Yes. Text me, let me know when and where. I’ll be around.”
I watch her back as she disappears down the corridor, my breath high in my chest.
Emily and I never made a plan to have coffee. But then Emily would have known that. And Emily would almost certainly have recognized her own car keys.
I don’t know who that woman was but it wasn’t Emily.
13
The Offer You Can’t Refuse
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 12
When the alarm goes off the next morning I feel worse than before I went to bed. Worry, nightmares, fear.
This is not the state I wanted to be in to meet Kathryn Mayer. Regardless, I drag myself from my warm sheets and try to expel last night’s weirdness from my mind, at least for now. I’ll have to get to the bottom of it after this meeting, because right now I need to focus. I stumble into the bathroom bleary-eyed and wriggle into my swimsuit for my head-clearing morning swim.
In the cool morning air, I slip into water and try to push Emily from my mind. But the same questions keep circling around my thoughts: If that wasn’t Emily then where is she? And who was the woman who came to my apartment last night? But these are question I don’t have time to answer. I can’t let my mind go there. I need to focus on Eliza. I need to focus on my meeting. It might be the biggest opportunity I ever get. As I scoop my way through the water, I let George take Emily’s place in my thoughts instead. I force myself to focus on him and Naomi. He’ll be starting filming today on the East Coast. With her. His big opportunity. I let my anger fuel me. I’m going to get this job. I’m not going to let anyone take away my shot. I hold that thought in my mind as I slip through the crisp water. And finally George too dissolves away as, out of breath, I feel my mind clear. I pull myself from the water and head back down to the apartment to get ready.
Back in the apartment there’s a text message from Nick.
Emily’s car is gone. Did she contact you? Nick x
The woman who came here last night must have taken it. I wonder if I should call him and tell him what happened last night. I check the clock and realize I just don’t have time. I tap out a quick reply instead and jump in the shower.
Yes. She came over to collect keys last night. Bit strange. Can’t talk right now tho. Got a meeting at 10. Mia