Page 107 of Faking the Shot
“I don’t know, man. I’m just the messenger. You should ask Diana, except she has just taken Faith to her first dance class. Apparently she wants to learn to dance like Luc’s Bailwey,” he said, in a little-kid lisp.
“Is she at home?”
“I just said she’s taken Faith to—”
“No, I mean Ainsley.”
“Dude, I still don’t know. She’s your fake girlfriend. You need to figure it out. Hey!”
A loud crash ended the call, and Zac was left staring at his phone.
He called Ainsley. She didn’t pick up. He composed a message, then hesitated. Did giving her “space” mean not sending a text too? Or would she regard a lack of message from him as uncaring?
Too bad. He pressed send. Saw it was delivered. But nothing to indicate it was read.
What should he do? More importantly, what had happened that had shocked her?
He called Diana, but had to leave a message, asking for her to call him back. So the waiting game continued. He had an online meeting with his agent in thirty minutes, so he couldn’t do much else.
Except pray, a voice seemed to suggest.
Huh. Maybe that was the Holy Spirit, getting inside his head. Regardless, it was a good idea. So he prayed for her, that God would comfort her and give her peace, and help her with whatever it was that was making her sad.
Tension knotted within. She might want her space, but the urgency to check on her grew. She hadn’t been okay for a while, but she wouldn’t… No. That was too much. But it would ease his mind to know she was alive, at least. She wasn’t answering her phone, so was she even at home? Or at her folks’? Or had he heard her mention something about how they were spending time with Winifred on the island? Maybe she’d gone there too.
Lord, what do I do?
An idea stole to awareness. Okay, there was at least one way to find out if she’d made it home, and was alive at least.
He locked the car, pulled down his baseball cap, and jogged the block or so to her apartment building.
It was funny how much a face could transform in an instant. Michael, the doorman, brightened up at warp speed once he recognized who was asking for admittance.
“Mr. Parotti himself!”
“You can call me Zac.” He’d said that a number of times before.
But Michael shook his head. “I can’t do that. That would feel disrespectful.”
Maybe one day he’d relax.
“Now, what can I do for you?”
“I was just worried about Ainsley. Miss Beckett, I mean.”
Michael didn’t seem to notice his tease. “She got in over an hour ago. She looked really tired though. Have you tried calling her?”
“She didn’t answer. And look, it’s probably nothing, and she probably is just tired. But I wanted to make sure she was here, and was okay.”
“You don’t think she’s in any danger, do you?”
“No.” Zac sure hoped Chris’s reference to a “shock” didn’t mean that. Man, he hoped Diana called him back real soon. “Look, if I got something delivered here, would you be able to make sure it goes up and that she gets it?”
“Are you asking me to check on her and let you know?” Michael said slowly.
“Not necessarily, but if you happen to notice and could let me know, it would relieve my mind.”
He nodded. “And this delivery?”