“Okay,” I give in. “Thanks Allie, it means a lot to me. I don’t have a lot of people that I can count on or trust.”
“Anytime, Syd. See ya next week!”
I throw the phone on the bed and rub my temples.
This shit just gets better and better.
I pick up the hotel phone and call the front desk, requesting to be moved to a two bedroom suite so Allie will have her own room. The clerk says it’s no problem and will have someone move my things in a couple of hours.
Sighing, I retrieve my own phone and text Jane, letting her know that Allie is coming a week from today to stay with me for who knows how long. I scroll through my contacts to call my mom. I haven’t been able to reach her since I left Vancouver, and I don’t want to leave a message. Then I remember that I can’t talk to her from my hotel room in case they’re listening. Fuming, I throw the covers off and get out of bed.
It’s only 2pm. I really need to get my body set to London time or I’m going to feel like crap for the next two months. I get dressed in red skinny jeans and a cream colored blouse and grab my messenger bag. Time to go upstairs and go to work.
Walking into the space that will soon be Vertigo, I’m shocked to see that some demolition has already begun. All of the non-fixed items had already been removed when I toured the club yesterday. Dozens of workers are now removing all of the stationary furniture. Unbolting banquettes and disassembling the massive bar that takes up an entire wall next to the dance floor. When the Warren Hotel Group wants something, they make it happen… fast. Not even a basic kitchen remodel is as quick as this.
I walk over to a huge folding table that has been set up in one end of the room and throw my bag onto it. Removing my digital sketchpad and the list of measurements that I took, I sit in a chair and begin figuring out the new look.
beep beep beep beep
Two hours later my phone lets me know that Google Alerts has found something.
Google Alert – Sydney Tannen
Google Alert – Andrew Forrester
I sigh. Can I really handle this right now? I get up, clutching the phone close, and walk over to the floor to ceiling windows that span the far end of the club. We’re on the 34th floor of the hotel. The Warren always puts their nightclubs on the highest floor of their hotels. They think that the further up it is from the ground, the more exclusive the guests will feel it is.
New Sydney doesn’t press her head to the glass during a massive anxiety attack. But today, I don’t feel like New Sydney. Today, I need help coping. Leaning in I let the cool glass connect with my forehead. I stare out at the city, watching boats cruise up the river hundreds of feet below. Breathing deep, I calm down enough to stop the waves of panic that were threatening to take me down.
“Sydney?” I hear a man’s voice call out behind me.
Turning, I see Oliver Clarke heading my way with a clipboard in his hand and a pencil tucked behind his ear. He’s wearing tan cargo pants with a tight, army green T-shirt that shows off his broad chest and narrow waist. I bring my gaze up and realize he caught me eyeballing him.
“Enjoying the view?” he says, smiling. I scowl at his words but he continues. “Outside. Isn’t it the best view?” Oops, he was talking about the actual view, not calling me out for looking at his body.
This is the first time I’ve seen him without a perma-scowl on his face. He’s even more handsome than I originally thought. He should be a model for rugged men’s outdoor gear or something like that, not a project manager for a hotel chain.
“Yes… I mean, outside… the view… it’s nice.”
Oliver’s eyebrows lift as I stumble over my words. I see the corner of his mouth twitch a little. It’s clear that he finds my embarrassment amusing. Great.
“Did you need something?” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m not letting him see me as weak like Jeff Talley does, or did until our meeting.
“Actually, I wanted to go over some figures with you if you have a minute. Would you like to grab a bite to eat downstairs?”
“Oh.”. It’s probably not a great idea to be seen in public alone with a man who isn’t Drew, but I won’t eat with him in my room and it’s way too dusty in here to have food brought up. We really do need to go over the budget points, and I haven’t eaten in a long time. “Fine,” I say sharply. Then I realize how bitchy I sound and correct myself. “Yes, that sounds great,” I make a half-hearted attempt to force a smile across my stressed out face.
He gives me an odd look and shakes his head, rubbing his hand over his short hair. “Alright, let’s get to it.” He gestures for me to go first.