Page 30 of Last Date
I reached the top of the stairs, managing to not spill a drop of the pricy bubbly. My heart fluttered as I neared the mahogany door that would take me to Allister. Sucking in a steadying breath, I looked out over the harbor. The sky was fading into a rosy lavender blush to the west. A few couples strolled along the pier, but most of the buzzing activity seemed to be closer to where the shops and bars were located.
Gulping down the rest of my champagne, I tried to center myself. If Allister put the moves on me tonight, which I had no doubt he would, was I prepared to turn him down? Or was I going to allow myself to be swept away on a fleeting wave of romance and passion? As the alcohol warmed my stomach and chest, I decided perhaps it wasn’t important that I knew the answer ahead of time. I’d play it by ear. I wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want to do, but I wasn’t going to shy away if I decided to go for it either. After all, this was Valentine’s Day, damn it.
I grasped the brass handle and opened the door. Inside, jazz played softly, and the scent of roses and incense filled my nose. I stepped into the large room and took in the leather walls and marble floors. A gas fire flickered against one wall, and the overhead lighting was muted and romantic. There was an ice bucket with champagne, and trays of hors d’oeuvre on polished silver platters.
Allister was nowhere to be seen, which seemed odd. He’d made sure the girl with the champagne had immediately greeted me, yet he wasn’t around to do the same? I moved further into the room, searching the area for my date.
Frowning, I called out, “Allister?”
No response.
I perched on the arm of a big leather chair, studying the paintings on the wall. They weren’t cheap prints. Thick gilded frames showcased oil paintings of fishermen being enticed by sirens. I didn’t recognize the artist, but then art wasn’t something I was hugely versed in. They looked expensive though, that much I knew.
After ten minutes passed and Allister still didn’t greet me, I stood and moved toward a door at the far end of the saloon. I wasn’t sure where it led, perhaps to his private quarters? I hesitated about barging in on him, but it was strange that he hadn’t yet welcomed me. He was a rich and busy man; perhaps he was making ultra-important phone calls to ultra-important people? Or perhaps he was sick?
I wrestled with whether or not I should intrude on him but ultimately decided my time was worth something too. Slowly pushing the door open, I said, “Allister? It’s me, Kip. I’m not sure if anyone told you I’m here?”
Silence.
Scowling, I stepped into the room. It was indeed a master suite. The bed had a brown padded leather headboard and fluffy white down comforter. The opulent feel spread into this room as well, with scenic oil paintings hung on textured walls. The covers were pulled back, rose petals trailed over the sheets, and tea lights flickered around the room. The trouble he’d gone to setting up the bedroom made it obvious Allister had a romantic evening in mind. I wasn’t sure how to feel about the seductive scene before me. Most puzzling was his absence. How did he plan on seducing me if he never bothered making an appearance?
I once more called out his name. “Allister? Am I supposed to celebrate by myself? It might be more fun with you too.”
No answer.
Eyeing the black satin sheets, I moved around the bed toward what appeared to be the master bathroom. “I’ll admit, I’m a little confused, Allister,” I said, raising my voice a bit. “Should I just go home?”
As I cleared the corner of the bed, I stopped cold at the sight of Allister lying on the ground. “Oh, my God!” I ran to him and knelt down. His eyes were closed and his blond hair matted with blood. In complete shock, I stared at him for a few seconds, trying to think of what to do.
Check for a pulse? See if he’s breathing? Which one first?
“Breathing? I think that’s first,” I rasped, leaning down to listen for any sign he was breathing. The absolute stillness of his body made my stomach sink. I straightened and tugged my phone from my pocket. With trembling fingers, I dialed 911.
It was probably only seconds, but it felt like an eternity before a voice came on the line. I told them where I was and what was happening as quickly as possible. Then I set the cell on the floor and began CPR. I’d taken a first aid class years ago, but I felt completely out of my depth. Doing CPR for an extended time took a lot of stamina, and I felt sorely lacking in that department. I was sweating like a racehorse by the time two harassed-looking paramedics burst into the room.
Selena was right behind them, followed by an older man with gray whiskers, wearing a white uniform with epaulets and a panicked expression. Selena’s earlier serenity was gone, her perfectly coiffed hair unraveling around her pale face.
“What happened?” she cried, moving toward Allister.
The older man grabbed hold of her arm, stopping her. “Let them work, Selena. You’ll only be in the way.”
I scrambled away from Allister to make room for the paramedics, feeling sick to my stomach. “He was like this when I found him,” I mumbled. “I came looking for him because he wasn’t in the saloon.”
“Allister,” Selena whimpered, leaning heavily on the older man.
“I did CPR but…” I shook my head, and Selena whimpered louder. I was no expert, but I was positive it was too late for Allister.
The three of us watched the paramedics working on Allister in hushed silence. Their grim expressions made the situation obvious to me, but I think Selena still thought there was hope. I felt numb as I tried to wrap my head around the situation. Guilt ate at me with the realization that poor Allister had been lying in here the whole time while I’d been in the saloon, getting annoyed.
After about ten minutes, the paramedics stopped working on Allister, talking to each other in subdued tones. The youngest one sat back on his haunches, sweat gleaming on his face. “He’s gone,” he said softly to his coworker.
“Yeah.” The other guy exhaled roughly and grabbed his radio.
“No.” Selena shook her head, eyes wide. “He can’t be—” She started sobbing, and the older man put his arms around her.
“It’s okay,” he muttered emotionlessly.
“Sorry,” the younger paramedic mumbled, as if it was his fault.
