Page 6 of Night and Day
Chapter 4
Reversing into thevisitor carpark, Izzy flipped the visor and stared into the little mirror. Was he presentable? He hadn’t shown his face in public for a week, since he’d visited the gym to cancel his membership. His home gym had better equipment with no waiting times, so why pay for inconvenience? Not leaving the house also meant he didn’t have to care about his appearance. Unsurprisingly, the face staring back in the mirror had been taken over by an unruly beard. Was it really that long? Holy shit.
Izzy shook his head, grabbed his keys and wallet, and headed for the front doors. The imposing glass building looked brand new, nothing like the old police station he remembered. Although he hadn’t visited Auckland in years.
Stepping into the reception area, Izzy scanned the room for a familiar face. On the way, when traffic drew to a standstill around Drury, he’d quickly googled the Finnish woman. A pretty blonde with one of those edgy, short haircuts. She’d been easy to work with, prompt and appreciative with clear, short briefs. Meandering, indecisive clients were the worst. He’d hoped for more work from Lounatuuli Productions, but hadn’t heard from them in months. According to LinkedIn, Mia no longer worked there, just like she’d said on the phone.
At first, his gaze landed on two excessively tattooed gentlemen by the door. He brushed past them, offering a respectful chin-lift. In the far corner of the room, he noticed the sleeping figure. She looked tiny, like a lost child, curled up across two seats, her arm draped over a soft guitar case. Her hair looked longer than in the online photograph, the shaved sides grown into wispy waves that swept over her ear. She had delicate features, like a little fairy who might sprout wings at any moment.
Izzy stopped a few steps away from the strange creature, his breath catching. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, not anymore, but something about this woman made his body seize. She hadn’t noticed him yet. Revelling in the unique opportunity, Izzy studied her face and body, imagining what kind of character lurked underneath.
When she stirred, Izzy retreated half a step and arranged his features into a smile. He hadn’t driven all the way here to freak her out. She must have been pretty freaked out already, stranded in a strange country without her belongings.
“Excuse me. Miss?”
Mia rattled awake like she’d heard a gunshot, springing to her feet. The guitar case slid off her grasp and Izzy lunged forward, catching it just before it made contact with the floor. Mia reached for it simultaneously, their skulls clanking together with a loud thud. Her yelp gave him a jolt.
“Sorry.” He handed her the instrument.
“Thank you.” She hugged the black guitar-shaped bag and blinked at him, rubbing her forehead. “Sorry about taking up so much space. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was just waiting for someone.” She gestured apologetically at the seat she’d used as a daybed.
Izzy rubbed his own forehead, trying to catch up with the situation. Did she think he was after her seat?
“Are you... Mia? Sorry I took so long.”
Her face lit up in recognition, cheeks reddening as her mouth fell open. “Oh, right! Sorry, of course. Isaiah?”
Mia set the guitar case against the floor and offered him a delicate hand with clear nail polish. Izzy shook it, careful not to squeeze too hard. “Call me Izzy. Everyone else does.”
“You... look different from the photo.” She peered up at him, sucking on her bottom lip.
Izzy ran his hand over his beard to tame the yeti look. He felt heat pushing up his face. Any photo of him online would have been about five years old, and right now, he wasn’t at his most presentable. He hadn’t showered before leaving, not wanting to make her wait – well, any longer than she would have to because of geography. She’d sounded so distressed he’d grabbed his phone and keys and leapt into his car, only giving a moment’s thought to the absolute necessities such as having enough petrol in the tank. Hence the worn-out army-green T-shirt and grey slacks.
A dusty, soapy smell drifted into his nostrils. Finding an old stick of deodorant in his glove compartment had been a happy surprise, but he’d probably applied it too generously. There was a chance deodorant didn’t stay fresh for ten years, especially when it was cooked in a hot car every summer.
Izzy wagged his finger at the reception desk. “Are you waiting on something?”
“No. I filed the report, and there’s nothing else I can do here.”
She gripped her fingers around the guitar neck, her bare legs sporting goosebumps. Izzy glanced around, instinctively looking for a suitcase or bag, before he remembered. “So, you have nothing else? Not even a jacket?”
