Page 68 of Never To Suffer

“Yes, sir.” She gives me a salute.

She’s never seen me like this, a hectic mess losing control. I’ve been on the phone with a police department in Tokyo who think I’m crazy. I've tried to call Alexis to see who she rented the apartment to and if she has any other contact information. Every time I try to call Xander’s number, which has been about every two minutes, it goes straight to voicemail.

Don’t call this number back!

In my office, I toss my bag next to my desk and head straight for the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and taking deep breaths. Clients can’t see me like this. I’m supposed to remain calm, steady. I cover my face with a towel and take one more deep breath in, holding it for an eight count, and slowly release it. When I open my eyes, I at least look less frazzled than I’m feeling. Now to get through the day without telling half of my patients to buck up and stop their bitching so I can go find my boyfriend.

Jesus, he’s not even my boyfriend. Good luck, me. Today has gone straight to hell.

I place a quick call to a friend of mine to see if they can help, but I doubt I’ll get far sending an American investigator a case based in Japan when I don’t know a damn thing about Xander that’s any help. An hour goes by, one client down and no interruptions. Kennedy messaged me a few minutes ago saying my next client agreed to reschedule. I settle in behind my desk, entering the name Xander Maxwell into the computer. Nothing helpful. I try the long form of his name, Alexander and—bingo! The screen fills with articles, pictures, videos, and blog links.

Also, holy shit.

Charles Alexander Maxwell. The son of billionaires Charles and Victoria Maxwell. Those names I’ve heard before, hell, anyone not living under a rock has heard of them. Xander shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor of a cheap ass condo in the arts district. He should own the building while he lives in a damn castle. What the hell is going on?

There’s a knock on the door and Kennedy pops in. “I’m going downstairs to grab lunch. Want anything?”

“How do you know him?”

“Dude, you need to switch to decaf if you’re going to come at me like that. Who?”

“Xander. Alexander Maxwell. How the hell do you know him?”

“I used to chill with him, and I knew his girlfriend. She’s tight with Steve, so I haven’t seen either of them since that whole break up mess where I drove the car through the front window of Steve’s gym. He dated Steve for a bit. Maybe they only fucked. I dunno.”

“Steve?”

“My ex? Steve Jensen. Owns that big ass gym in the valley.” My brain isn’t making connections like it should right now, giving her nothing but a blank stare. “For shit’s sake, doc. Go home. Steve and Chase Cooper are besties. Steve married the hockey player, bro, the cute one. Well, they’re kind of all cute. I prefer the goalie. I should have banged him at that Halloween party instead of?—”

“Kennedy!”

“Sorry! I’ve had way too much caffeine.”

“Fine. Just focus for two minutes. Xander might be in trouble. Do you know how I can get a hold of anyone close to him? Are he and Chase close?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. He spends most of his time with Dani. How do you know him?”

“Danny?”

“Yeah, Dani Silva,” she says, like I should know who the hell she’s talking about.

“Can you get meDanny’snumber, please?”

“Sure, hang on.”

Some days I’m trapped in an old Abbott and Costello sketch comedy about baseball when I talk to Kennedy. She’s a bright kid when she wants to be, but that’s her biggest problem. She doesn’t want to be.

While I wait, I call the US Consulate again and the police. Neither of them knows anything about Alexander Maxwell, butthey gave me the number to the Maxwell Corporation’s Tokyo office, which I have, and called three times now. They keep blowing me off.

“Here you go. Dani and Xander are, like, always together.” She pops her gum as I continue to stare at her. “Can I go get lunch now?”

“Yeah. In fact, you’re free for the day. I’ll pay you for the whole day, but you can cut out now. Leave the front door unlocked in case a patient comes by.”

“Sweet, sure. Good luck finding Xander, he’s a tricky bitch to pin down.” She heads out the door, adding, “Call me if you can’t reach Dani. I’ll check with my ex, the dickhead.”

She calls all her ex’s dickheads, so that narrows nothing down. I need to figure out who this Danny guy is. I should have asked him more about his girlfriend, because justBeetlewon’t help me at all.

I continue to read about Xander, or Alex, as he’s called in most articles. As I’m digging around, the front door opens, and the familiar sound of a vacuum cleaner fills the hallway. The cleaners mean it’s well after six and I’ve fallen deep down the internet rabbit hole. I hurry to pack up my things, nod to the crew who smile and wave, and head home where I can continue this expedition. The entire ride home, I’m replaying everything that happened between us in my head. The furniture delivery, flight to Japan, business trip—all that makes more sense now than it did before, even though I didn’t question it. The sleeping bag, cardboard boxes, and the thrift store couch? None of that makes any sense at all. I nailed the detail about the boarding school, though.

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