Page 34 of Room 1212

18

Drew

Itwasn’tasurprisewhen Jordan didn’t answer the phone. I’d been calling him regularly, trying to get in touch with him for days, but he hadn’t answered even once. I’d left messages, hoping he might call me back, but so far, nothing. This time, though, just as I was expecting to hear his recorded voice telling me to leave a message, an automated reply came on the line: “We’re sorry. The inbox you are trying to reach is full. Please try again later.”

“Shit,” I muttered, dropping my phone onto my coffee table. That meant he hadn’t even listened to my messages.

I wasn’t just worried about Jordan; this went way beyond worry. I’d always known he was a bit anxious, a little bit paranoid that everyone hated his books, but I wouldn’t have thought he’d drop off the face of the earth like this. Did he blame me? How much did Jordan hate me right now?

Or had something happened to him…

My guts twisted and churned. I’d been trying to give him his space, but the time for his privacy was done. If I could just see his face to know that he was all right, then I could move on, but as it was, I had a terrible feeling that something was wrong. That he needed me but didn’t know how to ask.

And if he didn’t want me in his life anymore, he would have to tell me to my face.

With so many emotions swirling through me, I didn’t know which one to focus on. Fear and dread were too easy, like falling into a bottomless well, and I decided it was pointless to worry until I knew what had happened. So, instead, I found myself zeroing in on anger. Not just anger, but more. Betrayal. Hurt.

Harnessing that feeling, I got up from the couch and stormed over to the door, grabbing my coat on the way by. There was a light rain spitting down, but I barely noticed it on my way to the parking lot behind my building.

“So mature, Jordan,” I gritted out, throwing myself into my car and slamming the door. “Just ignore my calls and hope I’ll go away. Well, tough luck, because I’m not so easy to get rid of.”

I ended up speeding the distance to Jordan’s condo. I was lucky I didn’t get a ticket, or worse, cause an accident. As I crossed into the nicer area of town, the buildings got newer, taller, shinier. I didn’t belong here, with my little rusty hatchback. I could practically feel people giving my beater the side-eye.

As busy as it was downtown, I had to park a block away. I marched down the sidewalk, stoking my anger into a fiery rage. “Ohh, I am gonna give it to you so hard,” I grunted through clenched teeth. “First I’m gonna scold you, then I’m gonna spank you, and then I’m gonna…” I trailed off as a woman in an expensive pantsuit coming the other direction gave me a look. “Morning,” I said to her, but she quickly looked away, pretending she hadn’t heard me. She looked extra repressed, like she was the one in need of a good spanking.

The doorman saw me coming and opened the door for me. “Good morning, sir. How are you today?”

“Morning, Jeffrey,” I said. I couldn’t bring myself to answer his question, because it meant either lying and saying I was fine, or telling him the truth, that I was twisted up inside because the man who refused to be my boyfriend was ignoring me.

The lobby was empty except for the man at the front desk. He acted as gatekeeper for the wealthy tenants. I’d gotten to know some of the staff, what with all the time I’d spent here, and Herb was no exception. “Hey, Herb, I’m just going to run upstairs to talk to Jordan for a minute, if that’s all right.” I kept walking past the desk to the elevator, not giving him a chance to reply.

“Mr. Webber,” he called, and when I didn’t stop to see what he wanted, he called again, “Excuse me, Mr. Webber, hold on a second.” I could hear him trying to get out of his chair and come around the desk to chase after me.

At that moment, though, the elevator doors dinged open right as a couple stepped out, and I slipped past them into the elevator. “It’s okay, Herb, I’ll just be a minute,” I called back between the closing doors.

I stepped out onto Jordan’s floor, and the elevator doors closed behind me, returning to the main lobby, no doubt picking up an irate Herb. I’d better make this quick, before I was kicked out. I didn’t think he would call the cops on me, not unless Jordan had instructed them to.

Shit, he wouldn’t do that, would he?

The quiet in the hallway felt like a living thing, expanding on my dread. The carpets muffled my footsteps, and I heard no sounds from the apartments. There were no voices, no ringing phones or banging pots in the kitchen, no aromatic meals being prepared.

I knocked on Jordan’s door, the sound sharp and intrusive in the surrounding quiet. I waited a minute, listening for the shuffling scuff of his slippers or the pad of bare feet. Nothing. I knocked again. “Jordan? It’s me. Can you open the door? I just need to talk to you for a second.”

Nothing.

I was about to enter the key code into the pin pad on the door when the elevator dinged behind me, and I knew I was busted. I turned around to face Herb, apologetic smile in place. “Sorry, Herb.”

He was frowning, but at least he didn’t look like he was about to throat-punch me or anything. “If you had waited a second, I could’ve told you that Mr. Kepler is not at home.”

“Oh.” I blinked stupidly for a second. Why hadn’t I considered that possibility? I had been so focused on him ignoring my calls that I’d just assumed he was in hiding. “So, he’ll be back tonight?”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t say, sir.” Or refused to say, maybe. “He hasn’t been home for several days.”

“Oh…” I said again. “He’s okay, though, right?” I asked, gulping through a tightening throat. “Like, you haven’t had any calls from the police or hospital… or morgue…?”

His eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Do you think something happened to him?”

“I-I don’t know,” I sputtered, raising my shoulders to my ears. “I just haven’t heard from him, and if you haven’t either, I just wondered if something had happened.”

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