The VIP Room(32)

“I know.”

“Okay,” Sam said, dropping his hands from my face to place a kiss on my forehead.

“I’m still going to the pool hall,” I said.

“Fine,” Sam said, the gentleness burned out of his voice by his renewed anger. “But you’re not going without me.”

“Fine,” I said. I hadn’t planned on it, but I wasn’t telling Sam that. For a laid back guy he’d been having some serious mood swings lately. I didn’t tell Sam that either. Somehow I didn’t think he’d take it well.

I was lost in thought as we pulled back onto the main road, trying to take in Sam’s sweetness in sticking up for me against my own guilt and wondering what Axel would find out about Feliks. Out of the blue, I thought about Nolan’s job. I’d called Monday morning and asked to talk to him, only to find that he’d been fired a few weeks before.

I’d been too worried about him to process that he’d lost his job. I could yell at him about that when I found him. But before the destruction in the apartment had distracted me, I’d meant to call one of his friends. He didn’t hang out with a lot of the guys there, but he had been friends with a programmer named Tim. It was possible Tim knew something. Frantic to find out, I started digging around in my purse.

“What?” Sam asked, his eyes flicking off the road to watch me digging for my phone.

“I just thought of a friend of Nolan’s I can call. From his job.”

“Did you call them to let them know he was missing?” Sam asked. I hadn’t mentioned the situation with Nolan’s job yet. I hadn’t wanted to hear what Sam would say.

“Not exactly,” I admitted, dreading Sam’s commentary when he found out Nolan had been fired. Again. “I called hoping he’d shown up, and they told me they let him go a few weeks ago.”

“And he didn’t tell you?” Sam asked, his voice flat. I shook my head. Sam took my hand in his.

“I’m sorry, honey.”

That was it. No barbs about Nolan being irresponsible or needing to get it together. Just 'I’m sorry'. My heart squeezed in my chest. If I thought there was a chance I could get involved with Sam and have it work out, I’d be all over him. I couldn’t bring myself to trust that he was serious about me, but he was such a good guy.

Finding my phone, I reluctantly withdrew my hand from Sam’s and started looking for Tim’s number. I’d never called him, but a while ago Nolan had lost his phone and gave me Tim’s number in case I needed to call when they were going out. I never erased my texts, so it had to be in here somewhere.

We were almost at work when I found it. I dialed and listened to the phone ring, a knot in my stomach.

“Hello? Nolan?” Tim’s voice echoed through the speaker.

“No, it’s Chloe, Tim. I’m looking for Nolan. Have you seen him?”

“No. I’ve been calling him. We were supposed to hang out the other night, but he didn’t show. I thought maybe he lost his phone, and he was calling from yours.”

“No. I wish. So you have no idea where he is?” I asked, the knot in my stomach getting worse. I don’t know why I’d thought Tim would be able to help. At this point I was grasping at straws.

“To be honest, I’m kind of worried about him,” Tim said. “He said some things when we last talked that made me think he was into some weird stuff.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Stuff I don’t want to talk about on the phone,” he said. “Can you meet me after work?”

“Sure. Just tell me where,” I said, eager for any information he could give us.

“That coffee house down the street from where we work. Where Nolan used to work. You know-”

“I know where you mean, Tim. When? Five?”

“A little after. I’ll see you then.”

He hung up, and I did the same. As soon as I put the phone down, Sam said,

“So he knew something? We’re meeting him after work?”

I told him what Tim had said and tried not to worry about what it might mean. Sam pulled the truck into the parking lot in front of the office and came around to help me out.

Despite my concern over Nolan, it was time to get in gear. We had a day’s work to do, and between my sleeping late and stopping by my apartment, we were late. Really late. Sam held open the front door, a sheet of glass trimmed with polished wood and stone that opened into a high-ceilinged lobby with a slate floor and matching front desk. We both smiled and nodded at the receptionist who was speaking quietly into her headset.

The building had been designed by the same architect who created Sam’s house. It was a testament to the quality of construction and design that Desert Vistas produced. Both elegant and desert rustic, it was a piece of art as much as an office building. Every time I passed through the door, it reminded me of Sam. As we walked to the executive suite, I ran over the day in my mind.

“You have a conference call on the Givvins project in forty-five minutes,” I said, double checking the time on my phone. “The power point and the spreadsheets are in the file. I updated them with the latest numbers from John before I left last night.”

Sam walked into his office and I followed, dumping my purse on my chair as I went on, “The preliminary contracts for the golf resort are on your desk. Jack marked anything he thought you should pay extra close attention to. Otherwise they’re what you agreed to.”