he told himself he needed to get up and at least see about getting on another flight. He could brood about Irene on the way home. He still had a job, after all. Responsibilities.
He took out his phone to call Wilson and tell him he’d be later than expected, and noticed someone had left him a voicemail. A red Number One glowing at him on the corner of phone’s screen.
He accessed Voicemail with no great enthusiasm; he was sure the message would be from Wilson.
‘Hello, darling. This is your clumsy princess. I’m leaving this while you’re being naughty in the bathroom – at least, I assume that’s what you’re doing, because, without the love of a good woman … uhm … well. Who’s to say what a good man will get up to?’
His heart was pounding. Yes, this was something she’d do. Leave little playful voicemails or texts for him when he stepped out, even if it was only to the next room. The Information Superhighway’s equivalent of spontaneous love-notes.
But something was wrong with the sound. There was a strange electronic swishing noise in the background, some kind of distortion that did funny things to her voice.
‘So-o-oo … saying I love you. Love you and miss you …’
The connection broke with a sudden, high-pitched whine. Ryan had a feeling the distortion had something to do with it, that Irene had actually gone on talking, unaware that she was cut off.
His heart was beating, hard and fast. Ryan wasn’t a complete idiot with cell phones. He didn’t know much about apps and calling plans, but he did know one thing.
He knew if someone had called and left you a voicemail, you could usually get their number from the RECENTS screen and call them right back.
Yes, and there was her number – or what must have been her number. DC area code, what a surprise. He thumbed the numerals and a small box opened up on the phone’s screen, asking him if he’d like to CALL the number.
Oh, that’s very good of you. How considerate. Yes, actually, I would.
Heart still dancing, he hit the CALL button.
It rang for ever. Every ring was a lifetime. There was more static between the rings. The electronic hissing became gradually louder, so that when she finally picked up he barely realised it.
‘… Ryan …?’
‘Yes!’ He was shouting into the phone, turning it in his hand so that he could speak into it from different angles and get through to her.
‘… you? You’re … here … scared …?’
That ‘scared’ hit him hard. He wanted so badly for her to be there, so he could put his arms around her. He bit his lip.
What’s the matter with you? She’s not married to you. You don’t even know her.
‘Ry … I want …’
The line went dead.
Ryan’s shout startled a couple walking past. He punched his thigh with frustration and the woman moved closer to the man, who gave Ryan a quick, cautious glance as he led her away.
All Ryan could think to do was get outside and try again. The signal would be stronger outside. Outside the damned thing would actually work. Reaching fresh air took a while, and as he was shouldering his way past a flock of indignant tourists, the phone rang again.
Her number.
‘Hello?’ He was desperate to hear her voice. And it came through, so clear and loud he actually shrank from the phone. As though whatever force had separated them was now taunting him with that crystal clarity.
‘Ryan? Dear God, where are you?’ Not panicked now, or even frightened, particularly. She sounded royally pissed off.
‘I had … I just had to go out.’ Lame. Lame, Carson. But he had never felt so happy in his life.
‘You went out … with your suitcase?’ She was half laughing, half ready to kill him. Ryan was laughing himself, a little hysterically.
Wait till she hears I’m calling from La Guardia.
‘I promise … it was this crazy thing. I’ll tell you all about it. But listen, you have to …’
Static hissed again in his ear, as though malicious forces were determined to cut them off again as quickly as possible. Ryan held the phone away, staring at it in disbelief.
You’re kidding me.
‘Ryan?’ Just his name, delivered with frustration and anger and a strange plaintiveness. Then gone.
It was a fucking horror movie, he thought. She was the heroine, fading away into a strange wraith-world, an alternative dimension where they’d be so close, but never able to touch, or see each other.
The anger that rose up in him at that thought made him wanted to dash the phone onto the concrete, watch it shatter into plastic splinters. But he couldn’t do that. He might need it. She might call while he was on his way back to her.
Because that’s where he was going. Back to her.
Pocketing the phone, he made for the cabs.
Wilson was going to be pissed.
* * *
The cab back to Midtown ran into traffic. Ryan sat biting his knuckles all through the ride. This is crazy, he told himself. Insane.
What was really insane, though, was how excited he was getting. Horny all over again. As the cab bumped along he kept thinking about Irene, remembering the feel of her body on his. Like he was eighteen again and a woman’s touch was an unthinkable miracle. He was crazy to see her again, to feel her. He wanted to take her to bed immediately and this time explore every inch of her, from the lines on the soles of her feet to the exact shade of her hair colour. He would memorise her, not only with his eyes but with his nose and tongue. With his cock. He would imprint her on his skin, so he’d never risk losing her again.
She would be waiting for him in the room, thinking that he was only a few blocks away. She would have called by now if she had gone out to look for him. It was unthinkable that she had gone out to the airport, that they would have crossed paths on the way in separate taxis and not known it. It was not possible.
He made it back to the hotel somehow, finally. The girl at the check-in desk gave him a strange look that didn’t last more than an eye-blink, replaced almost immediately with a smooth smile.
‘Hello,’ she said blithely. Blithe as all get-out. Not asking, not even thinking, what the hell are you doing back here already?
For a moment Ryan almost told the girl that his wife was still in their room and he just needed to go get her. No, that would sound awfully funny.
So what was he supposed to tell her? ‘Excuse me, Miss. I appear to have somehow lost the woman of my dreams in a hotel in an alternate universe, so I need to get to the corresponding room in this universe because I’m sure
