the railing that edged a big part of the sundeck to check if maybe the person had opted to climb up from the street like the rapist I’d shot had done, using ropes or something similar. It was only six floors above ground after all. But I could see no one. I looked up the one side of the rooftop that consisted of a wall and was part of the neighboring high rise to check if he was lowering himself from a window on that building to meet me. Again, I could see no one anywhere.
When it was a quarter to ten, I decided to leave, having concluded that this person was just pulling my leg. Annoyed that I had fallen for such an easy trick, I walked out through the one door that would take me back into the club.
Taking the stairs down to the fourth floor, I no longer cared or worried whether I would bump into one of the security guards or even someone from the nightly cleaning crew. If someone asked me what I was doing in the building, I would just claim that I’d fallen asleep in one of the beds in the room behind the trainers’ lounge and then gone up to the sixth floor to look for my phone that I’d left in one of the group ex studios after taking a late class. The beds behind the lounge were used for trainers that worked long hours and needed to take a nap in between clients. It wouldn’t be the first time a trainer had slept past closing and had to take the service elevator out of the building.
When I reached the fourth floor, I spotted one of the cleaning crew and a security guard supporting a limping man between them. As I got closer, I realized that the tall man they were helping along was someone I knew—it was Ron Slaight, the investment banker who had been buddies with Felipe Cardoza. From what I could tell, he had some bandage wrapped around his head.
What the hell was he doing here and what had happened to him?
I needed to know immediately, so I marched up to them as they were making their way to the elevators on the fourth floor. The security guard—a black man named Dwayne whom I was friendly with—spotted me first.
“Hey, Jamie,” he said and gave a small smile. “What are you doing here so late?”
I shrugged as if embarrassed. “I passed out behind the trainers’ lounge. Just woke up.” I yawned lightly at the same time as I held up my phone. “I left my phone after a class in one of the studios. Took me forever to find it.” I smirked and rolled my eyes at myself.
Dwayne chuckled good-naturedly. “It must be something in the air tonight. One of the other trainers did the same. Jonah. You must’ve missed him. He just left.”
“What?” I asked. “Lost his phone?”
“No, he fell asleep in one of the beds behind the lounge.”
“Oh, he did?” I replied. “Huh. He must’ve gotten up right after I went up to the sixth floor.”
My gaze moved to Ron. He looked totally groggy, like he had just woken up from a deep sleep. He met my eyes, taking me in with a surly expression. There was a blood stain on the white bandage wrapped around his head.
“Are you okay?” I asked him before I’d thought better of it. Given the cantankerous face and the bloody bandage, he was obviously not okay.
He grimaced and said in a tense voice, “Before I slipped and hit my head on the sink in the restroom, I was fine.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. It was only then that it dawned on me. Was Ron the text stalker? Had he been the one who had planned on meeting me here tonight? His grumpy expression as he took me in now sure suggested that he was. Him slipping and passing out in the bathroom before he’d been able to make his way up to the sundeck would explain why he’d never shown up. I wasn’t surprised that none of the cleaning crew or security guards hadn’t found him in the restroom until now. If Ron had visited the restroom shortly before going into hiding somewhere in the club like I had done, it could easily take an hour or two for the cleaners to get to the bathroom on the fourth
When it was a quarter to ten, I decided to leave, having concluded that this person was just pulling my leg. Annoyed that I had fallen for such an easy trick, I walked out through the one door that would take me back into the club.
Taking the stairs down to the fourth floor, I no longer cared or worried whether I would bump into one of the security guards or even someone from the nightly cleaning crew. If someone asked me what I was doing in the building, I would just claim that I’d fallen asleep in one of the beds in the room behind the trainers’ lounge and then gone up to the sixth floor to look for my phone that I’d left in one of the group ex studios after taking a late class. The beds behind the lounge were used for trainers that worked long hours and needed to take a nap in between clients. It wouldn’t be the first time a trainer had slept past closing and had to take the service elevator out of the building.
When I reached the fourth floor, I spotted one of the cleaning crew and a security guard supporting a limping man between them. As I got closer, I realized that the tall man they were helping along was someone I knew—it was Ron Slaight, the investment banker who had been buddies with Felipe Cardoza. From what I could tell, he had some bandage wrapped around his head.
What the hell was he doing here and what had happened to him?
I needed to know immediately, so I marched up to them as they were making their way to the elevators on the fourth floor. The security guard—a black man named Dwayne whom I was friendly with—spotted me first.
“Hey, Jamie,” he said and gave a small smile. “What are you doing here so late?”
I shrugged as if embarrassed. “I passed out behind the trainers’ lounge. Just woke up.” I yawned lightly at the same time as I held up my phone. “I left my phone after a class in one of the studios. Took me forever to find it.” I smirked and rolled my eyes at myself.
Dwayne chuckled good-naturedly. “It must be something in the air tonight. One of the other trainers did the same. Jonah. You must’ve missed him. He just left.”
“What?” I asked. “Lost his phone?”
“No, he fell asleep in one of the beds behind the lounge.”
“Oh, he did?” I replied. “Huh. He must’ve gotten up right after I went up to the sixth floor.”
My gaze moved to Ron. He looked totally groggy, like he had just woken up from a deep sleep. He met my eyes, taking me in with a surly expression. There was a blood stain on the white bandage wrapped around his head.
“Are you okay?” I asked him before I’d thought better of it. Given the cantankerous face and the bloody bandage, he was obviously not okay.
He grimaced and said in a tense voice, “Before I slipped and hit my head on the sink in the restroom, I was fine.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. It was only then that it dawned on me. Was Ron the text stalker? Had he been the one who had planned on meeting me here tonight? His grumpy expression as he took me in now sure suggested that he was. Him slipping and passing out in the bathroom before he’d been able to make his way up to the sundeck would explain why he’d never shown up. I wasn’t surprised that none of the cleaning crew or security guards hadn’t found him in the restroom until now. If Ron had visited the restroom shortly before going into hiding somewhere in the club like I had done, it could easily take an hour or two for the cleaners to get to the bathroom on the fourth
Similar Books
