by M. S. Parker
“Her name?”
“Sine McNiven.”
“How long has she been missing?”
Even as I said it, I knew what he would say in response. “Since this morning.”
“Was she taken off the street? From her home?”
At least he wasn’t telling me I was overreacting. I gave him a quick rundown of everything I knew already.
“The two of you work together?”
His words were carefully chosen. He knew who I was because he knew my family, which meant he knew that I was a photographer.
“She’s my assistant.”
I knew better than to add that she was also modeling for me. He’d already think poorly of me for getting involved with an employee.
“When was the last time you spoke with her?”
I had to give him credit for keeping his judgment out of his voice. “Last night.”
“And she didn’t mention having anything else to do today?”
“No.” I curbed my impatience, reminding myself that he could get information from hospitals that I couldn’t. “And before you ask, we didn’t have a fight. Things are going well between us.”
“Have you contacted any family or friends to see if she talked to them?”
I pushed my hand through my hair. “Look, we’ve only been together for a little while. She’s from Ireland, so I haven’t even met her family.” I didn’t add that we hadn’t even technically discussed whether or not we were referring to each other in boyfriend-girlfriend terms.
“That’s why you called me.”
“Exactly. Now are you going to take the case or not?”
“I will.” There was a beat before he continued, “If you could send me a picture, I’ll begin making the rounds. If I find her, I’ll call you immediately.”
After we finished up the rest of the details he needed from me, I started calling every other place I could think of. Restaurants we’d been together. Jean, though I kept my reasons for calling as vague as possible. Gilded Cage. Every business between here and the bodega.
Morgues.
As each called turned up nothing, I became more frustrated and less concerned, especially once I’d gotten the morgues out of the way. For three hours, I talked with people who were rude, bored, annoyed, and everything in-between, and I got nothing.
I tried calling her again, but there was still nothing. Every single one of them went straight to voicemail, where I left increasingly terse messages asking her to call me and let me know that she was all right.
As the afternoon went on without any progress, I had to face the fact that wherever Sine was, she didn’t want me to find her. After all, how hard would it have been for her to call me and tell me what she was doing? Or a text? Or if her phone was dead, there were dozens of possible options, not the least of which was to stop here herself and explain why she’d blown off work. Blown off me.
It wasn’t like she’d simply stood me up for a date. She had a job. Two of them, actually. Contracts that she’d signed. If nothing else, professionalism and courtesy weren’t too much to ask for. I didn’t know of any other employer who’d have spent the day looking for a missing employee rather than just firing them. Hospitalization, okay, that would be an understandable absence, but I was getting more and more confident that she wasn’t hurt or in trouble.
She just hadn’t cared enough about her job, or me, to tell me she wouldn’t be coming in today.
As the fourth hour came and went without a word from her or from Max, I’d had enough. I dialed her number one final time.
Each word I said was flat and cold. I made no attempt to disguise my anger. I should have felt relief at ending things, but all I felt was mildly sick. I needed to get out of here. The studio held too many memories of her, and all I wanted to do right now was forget.
Twenty-Five
Sine
“Miss. Miss.”
A woman’s voice pulled me from a drug-induced slumber. For several long seconds, I couldn’t remember where I was or why I needed to wake up. As I finally managed to raise my heavy eyelids, I saw a pair of near-black eyes watching me, and a pleasant smile on a plain face.
“We’ll be making our descent shortly.” She straightened and moved on.
My eyes followed her, my befuddled brain slowly taking in random details and piecing them together until I was able to remember that I was in an airplane. Once that clicked into place, everything else came flooding back and the fog that’d been in my head dissipated.
I was going home. Mam was in the hospital. I needed to get to her.
I rubbed my hands over my eyes, then ran my fingers through my curls. They were probably sticking out at mad angles, but as long as I didn’t look like the sort of random psycho who shouldn’t be allowed into the country, I didn’t care. I dug in my purse for some gum, then sat back and waited, my leg bouncing, fingers tapping.
“Nervous?”
I looked over at my seatmate. The elderly woman had been busy chatting with the person in front of us before I’d fallen asleep, but now her attention was focused on me.
Wonderful.
“Just eager to get on the ground,” I said, making an attempt to smile.
“Coming home from a trip?” she asked, eyes lighting up when she heard my accent.
I shook my head. “I moved to New York for school and stayed.”
Or, at least, that’s how it’d been.
“Ah,” she said. “Home for a visit then?”
This was not a conversation I wanted to have, but I couldn’t figure out a way to politely ignore her question. I could, however, answer her honestly and hope it discouraged additional questions. “My mam’s in the hospital.”
“Oh, you poor dear.” She put her hand on my arm as her eyes teared up.
For the next twenty-five minutes, she told me her life story, and I smiled and nodded, letting the words slip in one ear and out the other. She meant well, I supposed, thinking that her tale of woe offered me some sort of commiseration, but I didn’t want to share what I was going through with a complete stranger. I had my siblings waiting for me, and they were the only ones I wanted to talk to about this. They would alleviate my guilt for not being there when it happened, for not being able to rush right to the hospital.
I still held it against myself though. Until the sleep aid I’d taken had pulled me under, I’d been going through every decision I’d made, every choice to stay in the States, every time I’d put schoolwork and saving for an apartment before trying to fly home for holidays, every missed opportunity to call or text or video chat. Each one of them ran through my head, one after another, mocking me, telling me what a horrible daughter I’d been. I should have gone to England. France. Scotland. Wales. Spain. A thousand different places that were closer than New York.
After college, I could have gone back. It hadn’t been like I’d had some sort of glamorous job that I couldn’t have found in Ireland. Even if I hadn’t wanted to join in the family business, there were plenty of opportunities just as good as the temp work I’d been doing in New York.
Except I wouldn’t have met Alix.
I bolted upright in my seat, startling the woman next to me.
Shit! Alix!
I’d completely forgotten to call him and tell him what happened. I’d been so busy and then security had taken forever. I’d barely made it onto the plane before being told to shut all electronics down. Everything else had slipped my mind. He must have been going crazy, not knowing where I’d been for the last ten hours.
I pulled my phone out of my purse. I’d turned it off rather than just putting it on airplane mode so I wouldn’t drive myself crazy constantly checking it for updates that couldn’t come through. Before I could turn it on, however, the flight attendant was back.
“Miss, you’ll need to put that away.” Her voice was polite, the words something she’d probably said a million times before.
I nodded and put it back in my bag. A few more minutes wouldn
’t hurt anything.
My nervous fidgeting grew worse the more time that passed. It felt like we’d been waiting forever, first to land, and then to come to a stop. I unbuckled as soon as the light went off, then gathered my things, ready to go as soon as we were allowed. Normally, I would’ve been the person who let others go first, but not today. It was almost midnight, but I had enough adrenaline coursing through my veins that I knew I’d be up for hours. Jet lag was going to hit me hard, but not before I had the chance to see for myself that Mam would be okay.
I’d debated the wisdom of checking luggage, but in the end, I managed to get enough for a week crammed into a single carry-on, so I went straight from the plane to the place where Colin was waiting. He’d been dating Donald for three years now, but I’d only met him once when he’d come with my brother to my graduation.
As I paused by the door, I turned on my phone. Colin was supposed to text me when he arrived so I’d know where to find him, but I didn’t see a message from him yet. What I did see was a dozen missed messages, almost as many missed calls and voicemails. All from Alix.
Fuck.
I scanned through the messages, frowning as the tone went from concerned to annoyed. He wasn’t exactly being rude, but they were shitty enough that by the time I moved on to the voicemails, I was ready to give him a piece of my mind when I called him back.
The first couple voicemails were similar to the texts, full of worry about why I hadn’t come to work or let him know where I was. With every new one, my heart sank, and my stomach churned. Then I reached the last.
Miss McNiven, as you have failed to show courtesy and respect toward your job, or to me, there is no need to contact me. You are in breach of contract, and your employment has been terminated. Your things will be delivered to your apartment. Should you have any questions, please contact my lawyer to discuss the penalties for breaking your contracts. Good day.
What. The. Fuck.
I stared at my phone as if that would make it less awful. Okay, I’d made a mess of things by not calling him before I left, for certain, but he hadn’t even given me the benefit of the doubt for twenty-four hours. Apparently, if I wasn’t in the hospital, then whatever reason I could have had for not contacting him wasn’t good enough. I’d inconvenienced him. Worried him. Made him waste his time.
The tension that had been building inside me didn’t break in a flood of tears. No, he didn’t deserve me to cry over him. Not when my mother was lying in a hospital bed. He didn’t know that, but he’d made assumptions, not based on what he knew of me, but on what he considered important.
He didn’t know me at all.
Everything I thought we had was now tarnished by the realization that it – that I – had never meant as much to him as he had to me.
A text alert came up from Colin, telling me he’d just arrived.
Fuck Alix.
If he didn’t have the decency to not believe the worst, then he wasn’t the man I thought he was.
My fingers shook as I tapped out a response. Once sent, I would put him aside and focus on the reason I was here.
Twenty-Six
Alix
I have no questions. You made yourself entirely clear in your final message. Should you wish to retain my last paycheck, consider it compensation for my breach of contract. We’re done.
I deleted the message two days after I received it, but it didn’t really matter because I’d read it so many times that I had it memorized. It played through my head whether I wanted it to or not. Morning, noon, and night. When I was showering. Eating. Driving. Standing. Sitting.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d been unconsciously planning a future with Sine until she was gone. Independence Day was tomorrow. Usually, the guys and I went to the Hamptons. We weren’t huge partiers, but we sometimes had people come with us, sometimes we didn’t. This year, however, Erik wanted to be with Tanya, which made things awkward for the rest of us. Reb because he and Mitzi weren’t together anymore. Me because of...her. And then Jace called tonight and said that he wanted to work on something new and wouldn’t be able to make it.
I stared up at the ceiling the same as I had for almost six days straight. The night I’d gotten the text from her, I drank myself into a stupor, her last two words echoing in my head until I finally passed out. I hadn’t really moved much since then.
I certainly hadn’t been working.
I thought I’d been blocked before, but it was nothing like now. I couldn’t see anything but her.
And I didn’t know how to stop.
Today made it five weeks since Sine had disappeared. Five weeks since I felt like the world no longer had any color, any meaning. I’d gone through all the stages. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.
I looked at my reflection as I crossed in front of a mirror and winced. Okay, so maybe I was still in the depression stage. I rubbed my hand over my jaw. I hadn’t shaved in days, and the only reason I’d done it then had been because Erik had threatened to kick my ass if I missed another night at the club.
Even well-groomed, I hadn’t been able to fool my friends. The worst part was, it wasn’t just me who was miserable. Reb was too. And Jace was distracted. Erik was preoccupied with Tanya.
Being with them at the club should have felt like getting back to normal. And that should have been what I wanted. A life like the one I’d had before she came along. Physically satisfying sex that didn’t have strings attached. Focusing on my career. A world that had been simpler.
But it wasn’t enough.
Having been with Sine, I couldn’t go back to the way things had been. I wasn’t the same man. She’d connected with me on a level I hadn’t known existed.
Or I thought she had.
But I’d been wrong.
She couldn’t have written that text if she felt the same way I did. Had. Not did. Because I was over her.
Except even now, as I stood in the middle of my studio, thoughts of her kept creeping in. Memories.
The blank space on the walls didn’t help. I’d torn down every picture of her. Since then, I’d been trying to find something to replace them, but I was worse off than I had been before I met Sine. Then, I hadn’t known what I wanted to do. I’d been in a creative blind spot.
Now, I knew what I wanted to do, but I couldn’t see anyone else in her place. Every time I tried, I found flaws, reasons why none of the models I’d worked with in the past could possibly make my vision come alive.
The only thing worse than not having any idea of what I wanted to do, was knowing exactly what I wanted but not being able to do it.
“You’ve been dodging my calls, Alix.”
The familiar voice made me turn, but I already knew it wasn’t the person I wanted it to be. Or didn’t want it to be. I was still torn as to which I wanted more. To be able to move on and forget about her, or see her again so I could have closure.
At the moment, however, neither one was an option.
“Giselle.” I didn’t even have the energy to attempt a smile, even if I’d wanted to be pleasant to the woman.
She strolled toward me, her blood-red lips curved into what I was certain she intended to be impossibly seductive.
It just made me more tired.
“I was disappointed when I didn’t hear from you,” she said, stroking a hand down my arm.
She wore a skimpy top, the sort of miniskirt that barely covered her ass, and a pair of six-inch heels. Every inch of her screamed for attention, for people to notice her.
I stepped out of arms reach from her, but she didn’t seem discouraged. “I thought you’d found someone else for your great new series, but then I overheard some other models saying that you haven’t had anyone come in for more than a month. I thought you were still hoping that those pictures you took with that assistant of yours would become something. Then I heard she was gone too.”
My hands curled into fists for a moment, but the flicker of anger that went through me burned o
ut almost as quickly as it came.
“I’m not feeling particularly creative today,” I said quietly. “Please see yourself out.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “There were rumors going around that you’d fallen for her. That assistant of yours. Was that the reason why you let her model for you?” Her beautiful face twisted into something ugly. “I guess I just got it backwards, right? You don’t sleep with your models. You just let the women you fuck become your models.”
“Leave, Giselle. Before you say something you regret.” I meant the threat, but there was no heat behind it.
She raised an eyebrow. “What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
I sighed and scratched at my beard. “It means that I’m not interested in you, Giselle. And I would hate to put the word out that you were behaving unprofessionally toward a photographer.”
She threw a couple choice words at me on her way out, but I didn’t acknowledge them. I didn’t really care what she thought of me. I didn’t need or want her approval. I was having a difficult time wanting anything actually.
Sure, I ate, drank. I went through the motions. But that’s all they were. Motions.
I scratched my cheek again, unsure of how much time had passed since Giselle had stormed out.
This beard itched like a motherfucker. I needed to shave.
I turned off the lights as I left, more out of habit than anything else. If I didn’t snap out of this soon, I was going to sell the studio and talk to my cousin Izett about what I could do within the company. If I couldn’t have what I wanted, I might as well make myself useful to the family.
I’d come back tomorrow and see if anything changed.
I wasn’t hopeful, but it was something to do.
Twenty-Seven
Sine