“Please sir,” said the housekeeper, following him into the bedroom.
He stared at her, confused, cold to his core. “Where is she?”
He got a one shouldered shrug.
Rielle didn’t answer her phone. It seemed to take an immeasurably long time to make it down the corridor to the bank of lifts, wait for one and ride i
t to the lobby. An eon passed before he made it to the top of the queue of people at reception, had the special guest relations manager paged, and asked her about the room. But it took no time at all to understand Rielle was gone.
In the two hours he’d been attending to tour wrap up details, she’d packed, checked out and disappeared. She still wasn’t answering her phone, and he had no idea where she was.
He left a message, trying to keep the panic from his voice. There had to be an explanation for this. He went back to the room and grilled the housekeeper about a note—surely there was a note. No note. He called Rand.
“It’s Jake, is Rielle with you?”
“No,” Rand barked. “Come to my room now.”
Rand had the door to his suite open when Jake arrived. “What did you do?” he said, his voice a low, angry growl.
Jake’s hands came up in a defensive gesture. The last time he’d seen Rand this angry he’d been about to pummel Stu. “I don’t know where she is.”
“Tell me what you did to her.”
“I fell in love with her and now I’ve lost her,” Jake said, completely bewildered by Rand’s attack.
“Fuck!”
He stared at Rand, looking for an answer in his green eyes so like Rielle’s, while the fear and panic he’d kept tucked down started churning in his stomach.
“She’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Home.”
“What?”
“She took a private jet, Jake. She’s gone back to LA.”
“No, she can’t have. She wouldn’t leave without telling me.”
Rand went to the bar, poured two glasses of rum, left the coke out and handed one to Jake. “She’s gone.”
The colour drained from Jake’s face, the breath left his body. She must’ve planned this days ago and never hinted at it. When she told him she loved him and sobbed on the bathroom floor, did she know she was going to cut and run? He gulped the drink, held the empty crystal glass tightly and when Rand said, “She took Jonathan with her,” he pitched it across the room, shattering the mirror behind the bar.
With Sharon by his side, Jake kept it together to help the rest of the band check out and get to the airport. Sharon took Jeremy and Brendan to the domestic terminal for their Queensland flight and Jake took the rest of the group to the international terminal.
In the airline lounge, Rielle was the absent force. Everyone knew she’d cut and run with Jonathan, but no one was talking about it, at least not to Jake.
How and Roley took up residence at the bar. Ceedee sat on Jake’s knee and hugged him, pressing her soft cheek against his stony clenched one, and when the Bali flight was called, Stu clasped Jake’s hand and gave him a shoulder bump.
Jake sat on with Rand and Harry, too sunk in his own misery to be embarrassed by witnessing the last moments of their parting. Harry was set to finish the documentary and join Rand in Europe for a brief stint before taking up a freelance contract in LA.
The two of them sat shoulder to shoulder, thighs touching, hands clasped, talking softly. Harry wore a funky black diamond pendant. It was Rand’s parting gift, in place of the very white, very large diamond engagement ring she’d made him put back in the box. There was nothing anxious or wretched or fearful about them. They were serene in the knowledge they’d be together again soon.
When the LA flight was called, Rand kissed Harry long and slow, holding her close and savouring the feel of her body in his hands. He looked like he was hearing music. Watching them was like sticking pins in his eyes, a fork in his heart, but Jake made himself look as penance for his short-sightedness and naivety.
“Been fun,” said Roley, slapping Jake on the back.