Page 106 of Call Me Anytime
“Park it wherever you want. We’ll be back to get it later.”
“I’m going to need a credit card to hold it,” he says, smiling at me in the same way those shop bitches smiled at Julia Roberts when she wanted to buy a cocktail dress.
“I’m kind of in a rush here,” I say, “but I swear, I’m good for it.”
“Ziva’s good for it, son,” my mother chimes in. “And if she’s not, Gibbs or Tony will cover her.”
“Excuse me?” Ryan questions, his attention now on my mother.
“Look, sonny boy, we’re here to investigate a murder,” she squabbles, and I quickly cut her off before she can get on herNCISroll.
“Let me get my card,” I blurt out in a rush, tugging my mother along as I head back to my car. I don’t let go of her hand, even as I awkwardly reach into the passenger door and grab my purse. I snag the first credit card I can.
“Here you go!” I announce and toss it to him. “We’ll be back soon!”
I don’t even bother waiting around for Ryan or a valet ticket or ... anything, for that matter. I just keep hold of my mom’s hand and head for the main entrance.
But as we round the corner of the building, I spot a familiar head of blond hair, and my heart kicks into high gear when I realize that the girl dressed in stilettos and a tight dress is Monica.
“Monica!” I shout toward her, but the noise coming from the busy Nashville street mutes my voice. She obliviously swings open the lobby doors and walks inside.
“Shit,” I mutter and pick up the pace. “We gotta run,” I tell my mom, and she goes right along with it.
“Let’s haul some ass, Ziva!” she cheers like we’re in the middle of the most exciting thing she’s ever been a part of. In her mind, we’re Ziva and Sherry trying to track down a killer. In her mind, everything will turn out just fine because Gibbs and Tony are probably right behind us.
But there’s no Gibbs or Tony. Just me and Sherry.Fuck.
We burst through the entrance doors in a big whoosh of warm spring air, and my eyes dart around the expansive lobby in search of Monica. First, the fancy reception desk. Then, the small bar area that sits to our left. Until my eyes latch on to the bank of elevators, where I see Monica’s head disappear behind the already-closing doors.
“Shit!” I shout, but I still run toward the elevator in a desperate hope that I can stop the damn thing like some kind of superhero. But banging my fists on the closed doors does nothing.
I try to call Monica again, but it’s no use. Though my eyes do fixate on the lit-up numbers of floors she is currently passing. And when I see it stop on the thirty-fifth floor, I start frantically tapping the call button.
Hands to my mother’s shoulders, I meet her gaze head-on. “Sherry, what I’m about to do is very dangerous. You need to stay here. Right here. In the lobby.”
“What about Gibbs and Tony?”
“They’re coming,” I lie. “That’s why I need you to stay here.”
She nods.
“You promise you’ll stay here.”
She nods again.
“You have to promise me, Sherry,” I demand. “I’m counting on you.”
“I promise, Ziva. I’ll stay here and keep watch.”
I squeeze her shoulders. “Good girl.”
A new elevator car arrives, and I nod toward a random Swan employee and point to my mother as I step on. “Please, keep an eye on her. I’m just running upstairs real quick to grab something. She has Alzheimer’s!” It’s the last thing I get out as the doors close in front of me.
Panic and fear and guilt and shame roll around inside my body as the car ascends, crossing floor after floor. On one hand, I need to get to Monica, but on the other, I feel so fucking guilty for leaving my poor mother in the lobby.
It’s a risk. That’s for fucking sure.
But all my mind could deduce is that Monica’s current risk is bigger.Life threatening.
