“I wish I could offer you some breakfast, but I’m not much of a breakfast person,” I told him.
The beginning of my day involved about three or four cups of coffee that would keep me reasonably full and fueled until my lunch break.
“Me either,” he said, shrugging. “This works for me.”
“So what is your plan for today?” I asked.
“Finding a way into the hotel’s security system, talking to—“
“Wait… seriously?” I asked.
“Yes. There are a few of them. Not as many as there should be, considering how much you pay to live here, but a few. That hopefully would have caught something. Then I need to put feelers out with your neighbors. And a contact I have up here who has an in with the police force, so I can maybe get some information from them. Then possibly, if I have time, the hospital itself. See if I can schmooze some information out of someone.”
“It will be really upsetting if that is possible,” I admitted.
“Unfortunately, in my line of work, you find that not much is private. Not even the shit that is supposed to be by law. And, for our sake, it’s a good thing. But if I can’t find out much, you should be able to. Given that they’re your records.”
“Right,” I agreed, trying not to let the idea of that bother me.
I guess, naively, I thought that once I got out, I wouldn’t have to deal with that whole ordeal again. But, yes, logically, this was going to be a part of my life. At least for a short while. And, well, longer than that unless I could find a way to make the scar disappear.
“Okay,” I said, taking a steadying sip of my coffee. “I am going to throw myself together,” I told him. “Feel free to use the shower in the guest room if you want to shower.”
With that, I went through the motions, taking care to put on my persona perfectly, even if it felt a little cracked around the edges from the events of the last few days.
I pulled my hair back into a tight bun. I swiped on some mascara and lipstick. I put on some gold hoops. Then I slid into slacks and a long-sleeved blouse as well as some ankle-aching heels. I spritzed on some perfume.
“Okay,” I said to my reflection with a deep exhale before turning and making my way out into the main area of the apartment.
Where Cam was standing talking to Brock like they were old friends.
“Randi!” Cam said, throwing up his arms and walking toward me for a hug. “Are you okay? Really,” he pressed as he squeezed me.
I wasn’t usually much of a touchy-feely person, but, God, did a hug feel good after the past few days.
“I’m okay. Ready to get back to things,” I told him.
“Well, I brought you your phone. And a latte. Your lifelines,” he said as he pulled back to hand each of them to me. “In your email, you will find a detailed report of everything I have done while pretending to be you for the past few work days, so you can go over it.”
“I trust you,” I told him. “Implicitly,” I added. “And I owe you so much for everything you have done since you found out what happened. I don’t deserve you.”
“You do,” he said, giving me a scrunched brow look that said he thought I was being an idiot. “When you catch up, we need to drop an obscene amount of money on shoes while you tell me all about the hospital. Was it likeGirl, Interrupted?”
“Seeing as that was based in, like, the sixties, no,” I told him.
“No hot Angelina Jolie?” he asked.
“Why would you care? You don’t go that way.”
“Honey, I think everyone goes that way for Angelina,” he said, smirking. “Okay, so, GI Joe here has a whole day planned it seems. Which means we need to get on with our day,” Cam said, taking charge, which was what I liked best about him.
He gathered my things, and started to make his way to the door.
“Don’t worry. I’ll lock up,” Brock told me.
“I’ll see you here later?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” he told me.