“When should we start serving punch?” someone asks. I’m tempted to tell all of them to go to hell. I remind myself that I’ve spent all week preparing for this party. But part of it was making Mr. Bancroft happy, and after the way he just treated Cruise, I find that I don’t care. All I care about is finding Cruise and wiping that lost expression from his face.
I’m forced to stop and make small talk with a few guests, but excuse myself quickly, hurrying to Villa Seven. He isn’t there. Back to the hotel, I check in my room, also empty, and finally back to the kitchen. The loading dock is filled with cardboard boxes of produce, but no motorcycle.
I lean against the wall, my heart racing.
Where could he have gone? Since I don’t have a clue, I can’t follow him. My best bet is to return to the party and do my best to smooth things over with his father. Though, after their last interaction, I have my doubts whether they will ever be able to look at each other again without anger and pain.
“Told you, you couldn’t handle him.”
I turn to see Dawn on a cigarette break.
“You told me I couldn’t party with him.” I’m not in the mood to be told anything about Cruise right now. She knows nothing about him.
Dawn shrugs. “Same difference. Do you think he’s going to be tamed by a little good girl, like you? You’d better stick to Daddy Bancroft, and maybe Adrian.”
“Whatever.” I walk past her, head held high. I won’t let my worry for Cruise pull me down to her level.
The party is still going strong. I take another flute of champagne from a tray.
“Oh, my dear, it’s so good of you to take an interest in Seascape Villa,” an older woman lingers by the chocolate fountain to tell me how her husband proposed to her on the beach, just below the villas.
“How lovely.” I smile, because the story is sweet, but I’m only half here because my mind is trapped in a circuit of worry for Cruise. He could drive to fast have a wreck. He could do something completely reckless.
The lady holds out her ring, and I admire it. The stone catches the light above and appears to be on fire. A high quality diamond.
“Saw you with my baby brother,” Adrian intones from behind me. “It’s all anyone can talk about. Dad is pissed.”
“It’s better to let them talk, let them gossip and then have it blow over,” I say without much conviction.
“You’ve never lived in a small town, have you?” Adrian salutes me with his champagne flute before emptying it. “It’s better for Cruise to just disappear. He has no place in this town anymore.”
“Maybe that’s true,” I admit. “Maybe I’m ready to admit that, but I don’t want him to do anything crazy. Do you have any ideas where he would go? He isn’t in his villa or…in my room. Where would he go?”
Adrian gazes across the crowd. Someone waves and he raises a hand in response. He seems ready to walk away, and isn’t even looking at me when he mutters,
“Top of the hotel.”
“What?”
“There’s a balcony at the top of the hotel. He used to sit up there when we were kids. To read books or watch the sunset, or listen to his music. It was his favorite place.”
I reach out to touch his arm. “Thank you, Adrian.” My smile is completely sincere. It isn’t likely that Cruise has retreated to a balcony at the top of the hotel, not with his motorcycle gone, but at least his brother was trying to help me out. And at least it gives me someplace to look, instead of standing here trying to smile while my nerves frazzle.
Despite the heels, I take the stairs two at a time, holding the bannister for balance. The balcony at the top of the hotel is empty. Desolated, I stand for a long moment, looking out over the beach. Party goers are walking along the shore, holding hands. I hear laughter from the gardens. My celebration is a great success, but it gives me no pleasure.
It also gives me no pleasure that in all the time we were renovating, Cruise never mentioned this spot to me.
A cigarette butt lies just beyond the decorative railing.
Cruise doesn’t smoke, but Dawn does, and so do some of his other less savory friends. The idea of him sharing this special place with someone other than me, makes me feel like my heart is a sheet of paper being ripped in half. But the jealousy doesn’t stem my concern for Cruise. Where is he? What is he doing right now?
Finally, with no sign of Cruise and no choice but to return to the party, I descend the stairs.
I realize someone is with me in the stairwell, before I see them.
He’s behind me. The lights go out, and I hesitate, my hand holding the bannister for support. I turn to make sure that whoever is with me in this unused stairwell is steady in the darkness, just as a hand goes over my mouth, and the other hand pushes at the hem of my dress, resting for a moment on my waist.