“Oh.” Her sigh of relief stabs me with guilt. “I would’ve picked up if I’d known it was you. I didn’t expect you to call until later.”
Great, so I scared the shit out of her with my constant calls and hang-ups. “Sorry. I was eager to talk to you tonight.”
“Everything go okay with Mark today? Did he sit you down for more career-counseling?” Normally the question would be teasing but her voice sounds too heavy. I wish I could see her face.
“We finished up the track I told you about last night.”
“Are you happy with it?”
“It’s all right.” I need to steer this back to her. Music’s the last thing I want to talk about. “Anything exciting happening to my favorite lifeguard?”
She snorts softly. “Just showers and jogging on the beach with a splash of demonic possession. Speaking of, I’m really tired and I need to be on set early.”
“Yeah, I’ll let you go.” So what if we usually stay on the phone until we’re both almost asleep? Some nights we have stuff to do and say goodnight earlier. “I love you.”
My heart trips when she doesn’t answer right away. “Love you too, Chaser. I miss you. A lot.”
More conflicted than ever, I stare at the phone for a long time after we hang up.
“Chaser, what’s going on?” Mark asks the next morning. “Things were moving along great yesterday. Then the rest of the afternoon…your spark’s gone. Talk to me.”
“Just some stuff.” Stuff like, I slept like shit. The more I thought about our brief phone call, the more worry gnawed at my gut. Mallory didn’t sound right. Was it guilt because she’d been out with Andrew and didn’t want to tell me? Or simple exhaustion and an early-morning call time like she said? Or something else I hadn’t thought of yet? Why didn’t I just point-blank ask her if what Pamela said was true?
Am I afraid of the answer? Or do I need to see her face when I ask?
Maybe I should’ve called Andrew to feel him out. But no, he can’t lie for shit and if I detect a hint that Andrew’s been sniffing around Mallory, I’ll need to beat the shit out of him. And I can’t do that over the phone.
That’s why I’m headed home this afternoon.
Mark blows out a breath and taps his fingers against the desk. “You guys have accomplished a lot in the short time you’ve been here. Truly. I’m impressed.” He circles his fingers in front of my face. If anyone else did that, I’d slap their fucking hand into next week. “But this whole attitude of despair you have going on, isn’t good for the process.”
“I don’t have an attitude of despair.” No, what I have is a plane ticket to L.A. waiting for me.
We’re both quiet for a few seconds, staring each other down. Finally, he relents. “I’ve been working the four of you really hard. Let’s get a rough cut of ‘Always Be Mine’ finished today and I’ll let you guys have a three-day weekend off to recharge your creative batteries. Sound fair?”
One way or another I’ll be on a plane to L.A. later today, but I pretend to graciously accept his “offer.” “Thanks, Mark. I think that’s exactly what I need. Some time to recharge.”
Recharge. Beat the shit out of Andrew. One or the other.
Mark’s wrong. I’m not in despair. I’m pissed.
Anger is a much more useful emotion than despair.
Problem is, I can’t figure out who I’m angry with. Pamela? Andrew? Mallory?
Or myself?
Doesn’t matter. The only thing I know for sure is I’m headed home to get some answers.
I’m not losing my girl without a fight.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chaser
My flight home’s easy. I call a cab, and I’m at our house by six o’clock. Mallory’s car isn’t in the driveway. Nothing suspicious about that. She’s at the studio late plenty of times.
I drop my bag in the bedroom and wander through the house. Nothing out of place. No sign anyone’s been here except Mallory.
What am I doing?
Did I really fly all the way down here based on some fairytale my friend’s ex concocted?
What’s my plan? Pounce on my fiancée when she walks in the door? Accuse her of fucking around with Andrew? All because Pamela said so?
That makes zero sense.
Irritated with myself, I run my hands through my hair. We can’t go this long without seeing each other. Missing Mallory so much has fucked with my head.