“Yeah, I will.”
“That’s a relief.” She sighs. “You can walk right over to the Waldorf Astoria across the street. They always have cabs waiting.
“Perfect.” I grin.
“Promise you’ll ring me if there’re any problems,” Jenna urges.
“Deal.” We shake on it.
Jenna and I hold our breaths and wait after she sends a text to her friend Jeremy. A minute later, we hear a knock on the door. As she pulls it open, Jenna occupies the space in the doorway with him, momentarily blocking it from Angela’s view. “Good luck,” she whispers as I creep past her.
Hugging my body to the wall, I move down the hallway as fast I can and slip down the stairs to the lift. My heart is hammering against my ribs as fast as a Formula One race car speeding down a straightaway. So far, so good. If all goes right, I’ll be at Art’s flat in thirty-two minutes.
“This has to work,” I mutter.
The moment I’m outside,I jog across the street to the posh five-star hotel and ask the doorman to hail a car for me. I don’t have to wait long, and soon, I’m inside. I just hope I’m far enough away by the time Jenna hands Angela my note.
I wrote:
Dear Angela,
By now you may have realized that I am no longer enjoying a girls’ afternoon with Jenna. I’m deeply sorry you’re finding out this way, but there was something extremely personal and important that I needed to take care of alone. I know I am asking a lot of you, but please trust mewhen I say I am safe. As soon as the errand has been completed, I’ll ring you straightaway.
Regards,
Alice
Whether Angela trusts me enough to wait for me to ring her or if she’ll report me to the security office, who knows. Either way, yes, I’ll be in deep trouble, but to me, it’s a risk worth taking. No matter the consequences. Art put everything on the line for me. It’s my turn to return the favor.
Twenty minutes later than I’d planned, the cabbie drops me in front of the Queenstown Road Train Station. Walking across the street to the café, I slip into the back alley and ascend the stairs toward Art’s flat.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
I scrunch my eyes closed. I don’t need to glance at the screen to know its Angela. Taping the Ignore button, I jog up the remaining four steps and approach the red door of number 4A. With a shaking hand, I lift the knocker, rap it against the door three times, and wait. My throat is dry. My legs are quivering.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
Ten seconds pass. Then twenty. Thirty. A minute. Two minutes. I preen my ears. I can hear the faint sign of a meow, but no other sounds from within.
I lift the knocker once more.Tap. Tap. Tap.
Two more minutes pass. Nothing. Lifting open the mail slot built into the door, I peek inside. Sharp claws swipe at my fingers.
“Ow.” I pull my hand back and shake it. There’s a small gash and some blood. “Brilliant. Just brilliant.” I don’t have any plasters or tissues on me. Reluctantly, I use the hem of my shirt. It needs washing anyway—what’s a little blood.
Turning my back against the wall, I lean into it and sink down onto the ground. I bend my knees and rest my forehead against them.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,” I berate myself.
Out of all the scenarios that I’ve run through my head, Art not being home wasn’t one of them. I had one crack at speaking to him and I’ve failed. After this escape charade, Angela isn’t going to let me out ofher sight ever again. Well, maybe not forever, but for a very long time. I pull the wig and wig cap off my head, letting my natural hair tumble free. What do I do now?
“Think, Ali. Think.”
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
Option one: I could stay here until Art returns. Except there is no telling how long that’s going to be. He could be working. Or even out of town. But the cats are around, so that’s a positive.
