“Akia,” he replies with obvious reluctance. “I went downstairs to check on her. He told me. I’m going to call and see if I can get an update on her.” He grabs his phone, and I claim the chair next to his desk.
A few minutes later he disconnects from the nurse’s station. “They aren’t going to talk to me. You want to go by the hospital and see if we can find out anything?”
How am I supposed to say, sorry, no, I have to go to happy hour with Akia?
Happy hour, I tell myself, is safe. And the more I think about it, the worse I think it is that I be near Akia. Adam wanted me to watch Kevin die. That could be his thing. If I am with Akia, and maybe he expects that’s exactly where I’ll be, trying to protect him, Akia may well be in worse danger.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m in. Let’s go check on her.”
Jack scoops up his bag and we head out together.
Akia is on his own, but it’s my gamble to keep him alive.
I tell myself he’s safer without me.
Chapter Seventy-Six
Kara isn’t at the hospital at all, nor is she answering her phone.
“Why would Akia lie about such a thing?” Jack asks me as we exit the hospital a few blocks from my loft, then quickly adds, “I’ll walk you home.”
Just that easily, all my time spent avoiding Jack is null and void. I can no longer run, and it’s a feeling that is broader than just our stroll down the sidewalk. It’s a windy night, chilly but not cold, the sound of music as a party bus loudly passes reminding me that Akia is at happy hour. Akia is a target. And Adam still has not contacted me.
“I agree,” I reply. “Obviously, Akia lied. I don’t pretend to be in that man’s head, but . . . I did tell him I needed to check with her before I trained him. Let that lead your thoughts where it might.”
“He used me to make you feel that wasn’t possible,” he assumes.
“Maybe,” I say. “I really don’t know. Like I said, I don’t pretend to know what is going on in that man’s head.”
“Nothing that goes on inside ours,” he assures me. “You want to get a pizza? I promised Jess I’d do the dating profile tonight. You can help me.”
It’s weird to me that he hasn’t told me he has a dating profile he paused, but maybe that’s his plan tonight. The problem is, What happens if Adam calls? Or sees Jack at my loft and has a problem with it? And how do I hide the killer I’ve become from Jack in such an intimate environment?
By finding a dark place that isn’t my loft to substitute, I decide. “How about Mexican instead? That little taco joint we love? We can order a drink for your dating-profile courage.”
“Sure,” he says, patting his briefcase. “I have my computer with me, and you know I love that place.”
“That place.” I laugh. “We never remember the name.”
“No, we do not,” he agrees, chuckling with me.
A few minutes later Jack and I are in a dark corner joint with cantina music playing, and we both have salted Mexican martinis in front of us. “I have a confession,” Jack announces, salting the chips.
This, I decide, is when he tells me about his dating profile. “I hope it’s scandalous.”
“It’s not,” he replies. “I signed up for a couple dating apps a few months back. I know, I know, I’m pathetic. I chatted with a few people, went on two miserable dates, and decided I just didn’t have the energy. I’m going to give Jess the rundown on those dates and chats, and call it done.”
I’m surprised that he did this without inviting me to join him or at least dishing on the activity, but maybe he felt I was bad luck. And he still didn’t tell me about being on the one Jess suggested and then deleting it the minute I joined as well, but I decide to just let it go. There’re much bigger problems to worry about right now.
For instance, Why hasn’t Adam called or texted? And what will I do if he does either when I’m with Jack?
For now, I stay in the present and dive further into the topic of dating options. “We could hit the party buses,” I joke. “Or,” I add, “Carly on floor two met her husband at a wedding. Maybe you shouldn’t be taking me as your date, but rather a friend. Then you leave your options open.”
“Well, we can tell my sister you’re my date. If there’s some gorgeous woman who hits on me at the wedding, I’ll disappear, and you can tell her I’m an asshole for cheating on you. She’d love it.”
“Oh gosh, maybe we should plan it and make it happen. If only we could get Jess to attend the wedding and play the game with us.”
“I’d rather it really happen,” he comments as the tacos are set in front of us.
“True,” I say. “Maybe it will.”
“Or maybe we’re getting married in ten years, two best friends who are both losers with the opposite sex.”
“Good Lord,” I say, finishing off a bite of taco. “Now you’ve wiped away all flattery over your dating proposition.”
“I could do worse,” he comments, dabbing his mouth with his napkin.
“Okay, stop while we’re still friends and have not killed our ten-year safety net.”
His cellphone rings, and he snags it from his pocket, glances at it, and says, “I need to take this. I’ll be right back.” He slides off his stool and leaves me and his food behind.
I frown as I watch him appear outside the window just a couple of tables down. Jack has never taken a call and not told me who it was before, let alone left the building to speak in private.
What the heck is going on?
Chapter Seventy-Seven
When Jack returns after finishing up with his mysterious call outside, he doesn’t explain himself at all, and I don’t push him. Lord knows, I’ve checked my phone for anything from Adam numerous times, and I even considered a run to the bathroom to try to call him.
Thankfully we fall back into our easy banter, and Jack never questions me or my weird behavior. That could translate into me managing to act normal. Or maybe whatever is going on in his life that he’s obviously not telling me about is distracting enough for me to earn a pass for the evening. I’m not sure I like either option.
When dinner is over, we begin the stroll back to my loft. “I’m just going to write up dating-site app notes for Jess and email them to her,” Jack says decidedly, as if the topic has been under grand debate, when it has not. We haven’t talked about it at all over dinner. “Then I’m just done with this,” he adds. “You could do the same for the last time you were on the sites.”
“True,” I say. “And I might just do that.”
“How formal is Jess’s awards ceremony, and where is it?”
“You know, I didn’t even ask,” I say, “but I assume at her offices. They have an auditorium. I’ve been there a couple of times. It’s actually a really nice building.”
“They’re owned by some major publication,” he replies. “That really doesn’t surprise me.”
We near my loft, and I’m already debating ways to convince him he doesn’t need to come up, but it turns out that’s not a real challenge. Once we’re in the building, Jack is ready to head home, glancing at his watch. “How is it almost nine already? We both better get some rest. You have to deal with Akia in the morning, and I have to deal with my sister on Saturday. Maybe I need to go get one of those vitamin drips at that place down the road at lunch tomorrow in hopes of combating the stress of her for an afternoon and Jess for an evening.”
“Maybe we both do,” I say, and neither of us is laughing.
The two of us understand stressing over little things that feel big to us and small to others.
I open the door to the building and pause. “I think I’ll start with wine tonight. Per Akia I’m to meet him at eight in the morning to pass the baton. And Kara is radio silent. I do hope she’s okay.”
“Maybe she’ll show up tomorrow, but drink the wine in case you’re stuck with Akia.”
We say our good nights, and I head inside the building, pausing as I notice the bookstore door cracked open, with no sound blasting from within.