Page 63 of Guarded Hearts
“Actually, that’s not quite right. Your visa is with M and T Productions. Our lawyer says you can switch individual supervisors within the umbrella of M and T Productions because you’re still employed by the same entity in essentially the same role.”
“You want me to work for someone else?” My patience for this conversation was wearing thin. Alyssa’s name was a drumbeat at the back of my head, and my fingers itched to call her, get to her, tell her she had it all wrong.
“Until this blows over and only if you’re comfortable with the switch.”
“Yes. Fine.” I nodded. “But I need a few days.” I’d prefer weeks, perhaps months. If all I could have were days, I’d take those. I’d go to Alyssa, and we’d figure out a way forward.
Tyler frowned. “You’re not going to ask who you’re working for or what you’re doing?”
“I have something I need to do. Whatever you want me to do after that s’okay.” I stuffed the last of my things in the bag and zipped it.
“Okay, well, the job is with Sarah Telling, which we thought you’d be happy with. But then that story broke this morning, and Mia started to worry we were screwing up your life instead of making it easier.”
“Sarah Telling?” My heart jumped. “On her tour?”Alyssa.Nervous energy zipped through me, and I slung my bag over my shoulder.
“Yes, but if that doesn’t work for you anymore, we can come up with something else.”
“It’s fine.” More than fine. Then I latched onto something Tyler had said after Sarah’s name. “What story?”
Tyler winced, produced a lollipop from his pocket, and twirled the stick between his fingers. “I forgot you wouldn’t know. Shit. Sorry. Mia’s Google alerts are out of control.”
“What story?” I held out my hand for Tyler’s phone. “Show me.”
Reluctantly, Tyler removed his phone from his pocket and opened something before passing the device to me. At first, I let the video play without understanding the significance. A man outside a small red brick bungalow was giving an interview about Alyssa. Then, his name flashed on the screen.
Ricky. With the wordboyfriendattached.
Was this house Alyssa’s? Why was Ricky at her house? I shook my head, barely hearing anything in the interview. I closed the tab and searched a few hashtags on social media. A knot formed in my stomach.
Ricky’s interview meant the narrative around Alyssa had shifted again. Instead of being known as a dance choreographer worthy of high praise, she was being accused of using me to further her career. She must be so upset.
I pressed my fingers to my temple. The letter in my back pocket increased in weight and substance. “Something’s wrong.” The certainty settled over me like fresh cement. “He shouldn’t be there.” The feeling hardened, became concrete.
Tyler took back his phone from my outstretched hand. “Mia tried to call her but didn’t get an answer.”
Ricky was at Alyssa’s house, and Alyssa wasn’t answering her phone. Panic was creeping in at the thought of something happening to Alyssa, of her being forced into something she didn’t want. I took my phone out of my pocket, found Alyssa’s name, and hit Call before I could question my instinct. No ring. Straight to voicemail. I held Tyler’s gaze. “Something is wrong.”
“Should we call the police?”
My face must have given away the growing storm in my gut. Alyssa wouldn’t have welcomed Ricky back. Olivia was supposed to be the one at the house, not the lying, cheating thief. I hadn’t heard from Alyssa, since she’d told me it was too hard to say goodbye. Of course, I hadn’t texted again either. Why hadn’t I texted her back?
“No, no. No police.” Police seemed like an overreaction. There was no proof something was wrong, but my gut instinct was on high alert, prodding me to do something rash.
“I’ll talk to Mia. We’ll change the flight plan—drop you off in Chicago so you can go straight to her house. I’m sure Mia has her address somewhere.”
“Yes. Yes.” I redialed Alyssa and cursed when the call went straight to voicemail again. My panic was quickly chased out by anger. Someone had done Alyssa wrong. I just prayed she was okay. “I need to get to her.”
Theride to her house was painstakingly long. Every few minutes, I tried to call. Either her phone was switched off or her battery was dead. Visions of her hurt and helpless sat at the edges of my consciousness, just waiting for me to let panic get a firm grip. Fate couldn’t be cruel enough to do this to me twice. Once I saw her, this tightness in my chest would ease, and the weight of uncertainty wouldn’t bear down across my shoulders.
I checked all her social media accounts obsessively, looking for any sign she’d been active since the day she’d texted. Nothing.Nothing.I sent her a text.
Where are you, Alyssa?
No delivery notification, and I willed the wordreadto magically appear.
The cab drew level with the curb, and my heart kicked. I grabbed my bag from the seat beside me and paid the driver.
At the door, I knocked and waited. When more unease clawed its way up my throat, I lay on the doorbell.
