Missed Connections (28 page)

Chapter 30

Where would I stick stolen belongings if I were a crazy hippie with no boundaries? In my room? No, too obvious. Besides, Fern and Ziggy were in the room with us when the belongings were taken. That means they have someone in on it with them—a sympathetic staff member? So that person would be the one with the stolen items. Someone in a position of power, but not an owner—they wouldn’t want to get their hands dirty in case someone got mad.

Front-end staff. It has to be someone in administration. Low enough that they’d do what Fern and Ziggy wanted to keep the guests happy, but important enough to be able to bend the rules and go into our rooms. Fern and Ziggy wouldn’t have trusted a housekeeper with this—it had to be front end. Maybe they’re all in on this, true believers of Fern and Ziggy and their weird cult.

The irony that a receptionist is the most likely accomplice isn’t lost on me.

My first stop is the room where we had slept. When I get my phone back—and I will get it back—I’m not sticking around. Best to pack my meager belongings now and then hightail it when I get my phone. I’ll figure out the logistics later, such as how the hell I’m getting home, and if I’ll still have a job when I get there. If I still
want
that job when I get there.

My feistiness flags when I jam my clothes into the small backpack I brought. How could Fern reveal my problems like that without asking my permission? She can’t have thought that would have been okay with me, and it certainly has to be some kind of breach of…
something
. It was sneaky and opportunistic—and how dare she call me a cheater? I sit on the mat I slept on, head spinning.

This crosses a major line. If she’s willing to do that here, she’s going to do this when we get back to work as well, isn’t she? Casually bringing up my personal life in front of clients and, worse, Phyllis.

Maybe I’m overreacting. Everyone else in the group was cool with this. Am I making a mistake? I wish I could talk to Blake. He’d know just what to say to make me feel better about this and help me find my next move. I miss him. Tears spring to my eyes, and I sigh. I wish we were together right now. He always makes me feel better. No matter how bad everything seems, he knows just what to say to make things okay.

And there it is.

In the midst of sleep deprivation, low blood sugar, and hippies violating my boundaries, I’ve stripped away the layers of indecision.

I think of Blake first when I need support. Support is the foundation of a long-term relationship. Maybe a candle isn’t as exciting as fireworks, but it’s better to carry with you to find your way ahead. If Jack and I broke up, I’d lose Pete too. How could I ever look at my best friend’s face and not see his twin who broke my heart? Jack’s been opening up, but Blake made himself emotionally available from the start, and that’s important.

Blake is the one. I need to get home and tell him that as soon as possible.

Feeling light enough to float, I jump up, bag in hand, and leave the room. I have a receptionist to see, a phone to find, and a life to live.

I tiptoe past the conference room and hit the communal bathroom before making my escape, because if life has taught me anything, it’s that you should always go when you have the chance. The resort isn’t big, but the hallways twist and turn, so I have to hike around a little to find the front desk. A young, bored-looking brunette is typing something onto a screen I can’t see.

I clear my throat. “Excuse me. May I use your phone? I wanted to double-check an appointment.”

“Sure.” She passes me the cordless phone and goes back to her typing.

Excellent. I take a couple of steps away from the desk, ostensibly for privacy, but really, I want to be able to hear my phone when it rings. I dial my number. The
Game of Thrones
theme song rings out in the lobby. Surprised, I look at the receptionist.

“I’m sorry. Someone left their phone here while they’re in a course.” She looks at the top drawer. The song stops when my voice mail kicks in. I don’t leave a message, staying silent for a moment instead.

“That’s fine.” This is hilarious. She’s apologizing to me, thinking I’m annoyed that the noise is happening during my phone call. I fake a conversation confirming my “appointment” and give the phone back to her. Now I have to get her away from the desk.

I lean closer. “Sorry, but I think one of your toilets is leaking.”

Her head snaps up. “What?” I know that face. That’s the face I make when something barely falls under my jurisdiction at work and I don’t want to deal with it, but there’s no one else to handle the situation.

“Yeah. I can’t be sure. I was in the other stall, but I thought I heard dripping. And saw a puddle,” I add when she looks like she’s going to ignore the leak.

“Crap. That’s the second time this week.”

I make a sympathetic face. “Do you have a pen and paper I could borrow? I need to write down my appointment time.”

“Sure.” She rummages around and hands me a pad with the hotel’s information on it, then stands. “If you’re good, I have to go check on that leak.”

“I’m perfect, thanks.” I begin writing, and she huffs and heads toward the bathroom.

As soon as she turns the corner, I race behind her desk. Nothing else was missing from my things, so as soon as I grab my phone from the drawer, I speed walk outta there, trying to look casual while formulating my next move.

Thankfully, it’s warm, and I flop onto a nearby bench once I’m outside. I’m stuck in the back end of Jersey with no vehicle and no friends. Blake? No. I don’t want to go into things with him rescuing me. That would set a precedent and the tone for our relationship in a way that I don’t want. I’m not a blond-haired princess in a video game; I don’t need to be rescued.

Not by Blake, at least.

But I’ve missed a text from him while the hippies had my phone.

Hey, Sarah, it’s Blake. I know it’s not my place to interfere, but things didn’t look so good at Inner Space. Screw those hippies. I’ve got a job opportunity, if you’re interested, with a friend who’s head of HR at a women’s magazine. Let me know. I’ve emailed the details. It’s yours if you want it.

My heart soars at this blinding light at the end of the tunnel. My fingers tremble while I check my email, sending back an immediate “YES” when I see the description and the starting pay. I call his number, but he doesn’t answer. Now I really want to get home.

Pete doesn’t pick up when I phone him four times in a row. Even though I’m overstepping the bounds in a huge way—especially when I shouldn’t be calling him except to say good-bye—I call Jack.

“Hey, I was just thinking about you.” His voice is warm and brings back memories best left in the bedroom of my past.

“You got the distress signal?”

“What’s happening?” The humor leaves his tone.

“There’s been a situation with the hippies. I need a ride, but I’m still at the resort.”

“What’s the address?”

I tell him.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you.”

Chapter 31

Over an hour later, Jack pulls up and exits his car, and as happy as I am to see his friendly, familiar, non-hippie face, I realize again with stark clarity that I wish it were Blake, because he’s the one I really want to talk to right now. Blake’s emotional support has edged out the molten chemistry between Jack and me, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.

Still, I can’t help smiling at him, sadness swelling because I still love him too and good-bye isn’t going to be easy to say. “Thank you.”

He takes my bag. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll be better as soon as this place is just a speck in the rearview mirror. Total violation of my boundaries. And no sleep. They took my phone, had someone paw through our bags
without
our permission while we were in the course, taking things so we wouldn’t be distracted by the outside world.”

“What the hell?”

“So I left the course and stole my phone back.” I grin, feeling a bit like a badass.

“What about Fern and Ziggy?”

“What about them?”

“What did they say when you told them you were leaving?”

I pause and bite my lip. “Oh, I haven’t exactly told them.”

“Sarah!” He laughs. “You have to tell them you’re leaving.”

“Maybe I told them etherically…”

“You what?” His forehead wrinkles in confusion.

“It’s something they do, where they basically meditate and imagine telling the person.”

“Sarah.”

I guess sneaking off isn’t the best course of action, but I don’t want to deal with them anymore today. “I’m scared I might say something I’ll regret. Or wave my new job offer in their faces while flipping the bird.”

He tilts his head. “That’s fair.”

“Sarah, what’s going on?”

I get a crick in my neck as I whip my head toward the entrance of the hotel. Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have joked about that etheric crap. “Hi, Ziggy.”

“You can’t just leave the program. We’ve given you plenty of time to cool off from your little performance in group, but it’s time to come back now.” He squints suspiciously at Jack.

“Ziggy, I’m sorry, but it’s just not for me. I gave it a fair try, but it’s not something that I’m comfortable continuing.” That’s about as diplomatic as I can be under the circumstances.

Ignoring Jack, Ziggy stops in front of me and crosses his arms. “There are three days left. A lot can happen in those days that I think you’ll want to stick around for. You’ve been doing well so far. Don’t let the phone get in the way of your enlightenment.”

He’s trying to entice me back, but I don’t give a tiny crack of a rat’s ass about the rest of the course. What I’ve seen already has been more than enough. His eyes don’t have bags or dark smudges under them like mine do, and that makes me wonder something. “Ziggy, do you and Fern sleep in a room with a bed?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“That’s what I thought. Sorry, but I can’t stay and drown in the hypocrisy anymore.” They lie around comfortable and well-fed while we starve on the path to spiritual growth? No thanks.

“Hypocrisy?” He puffs up, and his face flushes. “If you value your employment with us, you will tread very carefully, Sarah. We’ve forgiven so much already, taken more than others would of your defensive behavior and disinterest in fitting in with us. We’ve made many allowances to your ways. Many.”

Jack laughs. “It’s a job, dude, not a religion. You take yourself way too seriously. She shouldn’t have to become one of you just to get a paycheck.”

“She belongs to us. As long as she works for Inner Space, she will be whatever we say she will be.”

Wow. “Thanks for making it easy for me, Ziggy. I don’t know what possessed me to think I needed to take so much bullshit from you guys in the name of fitting in or keeping the peace. Maybe there is some kind of energy field around the reception area that made me forget who I am. I quit.”

He makes a weird barking sound. “You can’t just quit, young lady! You owe us two weeks’ notice at the very least.”

“So you can make my life even more hell than usual? No thanks. If you were going to fire me, would you give me two weeks’ notice, or would you sneak in my replacement for an interview on the weekend and just tell me not to come in on Monday? I’d rather not find out. I owe you nothing.”

Ziggy looks around as though searching for an excuse before his eyes light up. “You owe us for the course.”

My degree finally gets some use. “You gave me this for free. I have copies of the paperwork. You can’t suddenly decide to charge me thousands of dollars for it after the fact. There’s no way I’m paying you a goddamned cent, and nothing you say to the contrary would hold up in court.”

“Listen here, missy. You will—”

“Hey, Ziggy?” Jack interrupts with a smile.

“What?” Ziggy snaps.

“Breathe into it.”

The vein in Ziggy’s forehead swells to epic proportions as I freely laugh.

“Come on, Sare.” Jack grabs my hand and leads me to the curb, opens the passenger door, and shuts it behind me. A few seconds later, he slides behind the wheel and slams his own door. “Crazy fucking hippies.”

“I can’t believe you told him to breathe into it. You’re my hero.”

“They’re delusional. What truly awful people. It wasn’t my place, but I couldn’t help it.”

The comfort of the car seat and the heat of the sun on my face makes me sleepy, but I have a more pressing need. “We have to stop for some food.”

“Where?”

“I don’t care. Something quick, hot, and greasy, with as many preservatives in it as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He steers the car down the street, and my mouth salivates at the sight of fast-food restaurants. “Sure you don’t want to eat fresh?” He points at a sandwich shop.

My glare could melt glass. “I said greasy.”

He laughs.

I’m scrabbling at the door before the car is in park and heading inside, practically drooling at the smell of food. Verboten food full of preservatives and nitrates and chemicals. Processed cheese. I stroll up to the counter. “Can I have a cheeseburger with no onions, no pickle, extra cheese, extra bacon? And six chicken nuggets. And large fries. Do you have extra-large?”

The guy at the counter looks a little stunned and shakes his head.

“Then give me a large and a small. And I want a Coke. And a chocolate milk shake. Do you have any pies?”

He shakes his head. “We sold out at lunch.”

“Damn. Okay, that’s all then. For here.”

He rings up the order, and I swipe my bank card. Jack makes it to the counter. His smile grows bigger as more and more items are set on the tray.

I hope he doesn’t think I’m sharing. “Aren’t you getting anything?”

“I ate already. Need some help carrying that tray?”

“No, I’m good, smart-ass.”

He orders a milk shake, I suspect only so I’m not eating alone, and we head to a table. All I can smell is the bacony goodness. My cheeks are barely in the chair before I’m tearing into the burger and stuffing my face with fries.

It takes four nuggets, the large fries, and half of the burger before the hunger haze lifts and my awareness expands to include things other than my empty stomach and my tray of food. Jack’s eyes are big as I swallow my bite. The past few minutes can’t have been pretty to watch.