Slut - Woodruff Jettie - Страница 8
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“Yes. Please stop with this. I don’t want to be involved with this anymore. If you still want to go through with the arrangements we had before, I may be able to help. If you’re not interested in that, then I need you to move on with your life and leave me out of it. I’m about to lose my wife and kid over you, Gabby. I don’t want to do that. You know that.”
“No, Lane. That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t know that.”
“You were never going to go, were you?”
“This is so unfair. You’re asking me questions to things I have no recollection of and answering for me. What’s in Costa Rica?”
“A resort. You were four days away from being free. Four days, Gabby. You had the job, the house, the new names, you had it all. All you had to do was park your car at dance class and get on a plane. That’s it.”
“You said you felt obligated to help me. Why?”
“Gabby, forget that part of your life. I promise you, it’s the best thing you could do. As long as Paxton knows where you are, you’re still his. He’s never going to let you go.”
“He had me arrested,” I reminded him with a tone meant to portray him as stupid. Where I came from, wherever that was, having your spouse arrested wasn’t the best way to keep them, unless they were imposters.
I heard the breath being exhaled from his lungs and I was sure, had I been able to see his face, it would have been stressed, but why? And why couldn’t he just tell me?
“Gabby, tell me you want to go, and I will help you all I can. Tell me you want to stay and you can do whatever you want. Just leave me out of it. That’s all I can say.”
“Why is that all you can say? How do you think I feel, Lane? I don’t even know which twin I even am.”
“You’re the one that married Paxton Pierce. He’s going to trap you just like he did before, Gabby. Be smart. Please don’t fall for his malicious artifices. You’re not legally his wife anymore. He married Gabriella Delgardo, not Isabella.”
My shoulders shrunk with his last words. I was doomed. “Lane?” I questioned in a voice I didn’t even recognize.
“Do you want me to help you get the girls and get out of here?”
“If I say yes, will you tell me everything?”
“No, I’ll get you the hell out of here and you go forward without the baggage. Say yes, Gabby. Please say yes.” The tone in his voice was desperate, and I didn’t understand why.
“Let me sleep on it,” I quietly spoke, “Goodbye, Lane.”
“Goodbye, Gabby. Take care.”
I hung up, knowing whatever was between Lane and I before, was gone, and we'd just said goodbye. Probably for the last time. Everything in me told me to call him back and take the deal, the new identity, and the new life with my girls. That would have been the logical thing to do, but no. Inquisitive Gabby just had to have all the pieces.
My body fell back to the bed, eyes closing in frustration. The couple on the television talked back and forth about the three houses, deciding on the second one. Just like I had said.
I hung around the hotel room for a little while, waiting until I knew Nick would be home. He’s was all I had to rely on, the only one who could possibly get into my mind. I finally decided that I must have missed him at a quarter after six. Surely he was home by now. The office was twenty minutes away, and that was with traffic.
With a quick pep-talk, I sat up, straightened my posture, and swallowed away the nerves. Then they came back. Then I plopped back to the bed. Then they came back. Repeat. Every time I thought I had the backbone where it needed to be, I was wrong. I did however make it a little further each time. First to my door, and after a few paces up and down the hall, I made it to the elevator, and then to the front door, and then to the corner. By the time I backtracked, walking my same steps over and over, I had walked at least a mile, maybe more.
My eyes glanced to the ‘do not walk sign’ and my mind pondered my assumptions. Maybe this wasn’t even his house. No, it had to be. He had a dog, an ugly dog, but still a dog. I crossed the road with a few other people, skipping a quicker pace when the light changed. Thinking cap turned to high, I contemplated a plan, seeing a potential obstacle. A doorman meant a gatekeeper that I had to get through. Flowers crossed my mind, but I didn’t have any money for my pretend delivery. Pizza wouldn’t work either. The closer I got to the doorman, the more my nerves jumped up and down. I don’t even know where the story came from. It just flowed from my lips like a pro. Wait. That’s a lie. I knew exactly where it came from. My mother was an expert liar. That was truth coming from a few dreams.
“Hello, can you tell me where I can find personnel? I have an interview for the hotel bar.” Boom! Perfect lie.
The jolly, white-haired man laughed, ridiculously hard. His shoulders bounced up and down with his round belly, and he opened the door. “I love a pretty girl with a sense of humor. Do you know where you’re going, little lady?”
“Oh yes, to see Nick.”
“Aaah, Nick Benson. Good man. You have a nice day,” he said with a smile as bright as the blue in his eyes and a friendly nod as he opened the door. Score.
Once I was inside I looked around the first floor to nothing really fancy. I mean it was a lovely building with lots of old character, but nothing over the top. A sleek black counter stuck out with black granite, shimmering from an overhead chandelier to the right of me. One receptionist, nose buried in a magazine. Again, the lie came natural, no thinking required.
“Excuse me, can you tell me which apartment Nick Benson lives in? I accidently deleted the message and he’s not answering his phone.” Spoken like a true prevaricator, I smiled at the young girl when she looked up from her gossip magazine.
“Want me to look? Or you could just go around the corner and look at the mailboxes,” she suggested while her chin rested on her hand. The body language and the snobbish tone in her voice directed me on how to answer. She couldn’t be bothered by my petty request. The article about Kortney and Scott took precedence over my life or death situation.
“I can look. Thank you.” I got a hum in response. Pleasant customer service.
Gold plated squares covered half the wall when I turned the corner. My finger glided across the top row in search of Benson while my mind thought about what to say. Jesus, I was about to add menacing to my list of charges. My finger landed on the mailbox with the name Benson. Twenty-one, easy enough.
The elevator opened to a large foyer and two doors on the second floor; one on the right, one on the left. That was a stress-free step closer, but only for a second. My knuckles raised to the door and my lungs filled with a deep breath of bravery. It wasn’t like I had a choice, especially with the new information. Why would Paxton put me up in a hotel after calling the police on me? What did Lane have to do with anything, and why couldn’t he just tell me? Why all the secrets? All thoughts stopped when I heard the echoing fill the hall from my own knocking.
My body nervously danced around and I flipped my wrists, shaking my fingers in the air to calm my nerves. I blew out quick puffs of air, trying once again to come up with a flawless disposition. Something amazing popped into my mind, the perfect approach, and then it was gone. No words formed in my mouth when the door opened.
I wasn’t expecting a wife or a girlfriend. “Oh, hi. I was just—is Nick here?”
“No, this is his late night at work. Can I help you?”
The man’s shirt rolled to her elbows, and the clay drying in different shades of gray was a sure sign of me interrupting something. A project. She blew a piece of hair from her eyes and smiled. That made me feel better and I relaxed a little. I had no idea what I was supposed to say. None whatsoever. I blurted it out without thought, hoping to get someone on my side. Even if it was the girlfriend of someone I didn’t really know. The scraggly looking dog walked out to the hall and sniffed me, but I ignored it, and wrung my hands instead.
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