Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
I grab my phone when it chimes and deflate when I see it’s John. I ignore him. Then I inhale when it chimes again and deflate, again, when I see it’s Sam. But he’s given me Kate’s number, no questions. Before I dial it or text her, I try Ava again. Nothing. And after trying Kate then Sam and getting no answer from them either, I toss my phone on the opposite couch in a temper. “Why the fuck won’t anyone answer their fucking phones?” And fuck, I need to get rid of these couches. I’m just about to demand Sarah to do that when my mobile starts ringing.
“It’s mine,” Sarah says, holding up her phone as I’m about to dive across the coffee table toward the couch. “He’s here,” she says, looking at me. “I’ll send him.”
“What’s going on?”
“Leak in the plant room.”
My shoulders drop, and I drag myself up, claiming my phone and leaving. This day. This fucking day. I grumble and mutter as I pace through The Manor, ignoring anyone who speaks to me.
When I arrive in the plant room, John’s on his hands and knees, his suit jacket removed, a towel bunched up by the dehumidifier. “Motherfucker,” he grumbles, twisting at something.
At least he’s not calling me the motherfucker for once. “How bad?” I ask, joining him, seeing his face straining as he tries to unscrew one of the joints on the outlet pipe.
“Bad enough,” he grunts and then gasps, dropping his hold and wiping his brow. “Bastard thing is jammed.”
I wrestle off my jacket and nudge John out of the way. “Have you isolated the water supply?” I ask, and he grunts his reply, so I get a good grip of the joint and twist. It doesn’t budge.
“Told you,” John says, keeping an eye on the pressure gage. “Jammed.”
I adjust my grip, getting a better angle, straining to loosen the thread. Nothing. “Fuck,” I snap, kicking a pipe in anger. I growl and take hold of the joint again, twisting on a yell, straining hard.
Ping.
It pops right off, and the O-ring falls to the tile. I pick it up and inspect the corroded piece of rubber. “Seal’s knackered,” I say, tossing it at John and collecting my jacket.
“Where are you going now, you moody motherfucker? I’ve got shit for you to deal with in the office.”
“I’ll do it later. I’ll be in the gym.” I need to seriously work off some of this pent-up anger before I find Ava and bulldoze her. That won’t go down well. Gently does it. “Answer my fucking calls, then,” I snap to myself, dialing her again.
* * *
By two o’clock, I’m no less stressed but I’m fucking beat after killing myself in the gym for hours in between calling Sam, Kate, and Ava. And then like a bolt of lightning when I’m in the shower, I realize something must have happened to her. She’s been in an accident. Been hurt. That’s why she’s not answering my calls or messages, because she physically can’t. And that’s why Kate isn’t getting back to me too. She’s with Ava. My blood runs cold. My heart goes from zero to sixty in a nanosecond. I hear my phone ring, and I jump out of the stall in a mad panic.
And fall straight on my naked arse. “Fuck!” I yelp, slipping and sliding all over the tiles, trying to get to my phone. I stretch to reach it on the bench and flop down to my back, getting the screen in my view. “Sam,” I blurt. “I can’t get hold of Ava. I’ve been calling and messaging since yesterday. Have you—”
“Whoa, my man, cool it.”
My jaw grinds harshly. “Don’t tell me to cool it. She could be lying in a gutter for all I know. Have you spoken to Kate?”
“She’s here. At my place,” he says, somewhat gingerly. “Sorry, we just found all your missed calls.”
I balk, fighting my slippery body up onto the bench, unable to give Sam’s statement—a woman is at his place—the attention it deserves. “So she’s not seen Ava either?” I ask, my damn heart pounding painfully. “She doesn’t know if she’s okay?”
“I’ll get her to call her now.”
“Yes, do,” I growl. “And call me straight fucking back.” I look up when John breezes in, giving my naked, soapy form the once-over, looking over his glasses. “Don’t say a word,” I warn. “And pass me a towel.”
John silently reaches for a towel and tosses it at me, and I start rubbing myself down, ridding my body of the suds, my eyes on the screen of my phone, willing it to ring.
“Tell me why the fuck you look about ready to hit something?” he rumbles.
“Ava’s missing.” I stand and get my boxers on, mentally calculating how many hospitals I need to search and which one first. “No one can get hold of her.” I flick John a worried look. There’s no mistaking his own concern. Yes. Yes, it’s like that. “I thought she was just avoiding me again.” I grab my trousers and yank them on. “But, now I’m thinking about it, that doesn’t make any sense. We made friends and everything was fine.” I want to put a bullet in my head for letting all this time pass. I want to slowly torture myself for not insisting she spend Sunday night with me. Then I wouldn’t be slowly dying now.