Chapter Seventeen
Harlow
She sat at the table alone, her long flowing skirt covering her legs, and the silky black halter-top combining with it to make her feel extremely out of place.
The smell of deep-fried potatoes and hamburgers haunted her nose, while off to her left a batch of children screamed in delight as they raced through the two-story indoor playground, high off the sugar and salt in their late-evening meals. Four middle-aged women sat nearby, chatting excitedly to one another, seemingly oblivious to the hurricane of destruction their kids were leaving across the restaurant.
At least the fries are good.
She looked at her phone again. It was nearly two hours since Vanek had promised to meet her outside the theatre across the street, and still he was a no-show. Her texts were unanswered and her phone calls went straight to voicemail. Something was wrong, she just didn’t know what. It wasn’t like Vanek to be this way. He’d always responded with an eagerness and swiftness that would rival a millennial.
Another mouthful of delightfully salty and crispy fries cooked to perfection later, and she was still upset. It wasn’t until her hand went back for some more and found the little box empty that she knew it was time to leave. The time for waiting was past, all that was left now was to take action.
She went outside, hailed a cab, and stared out the window as they crossed downtown to his penthouse tower. The drive took about twenty minutes, between distance and traffic, which wasn’t bad. Harlow sometimes regretted not having her own vehicle, but the semi-truck was far more practical for her needs than anything else. Back when she’d first bought the company she’d had a driver for it, while she took her own vehicle, but as time went on and things got tougher, she’d been forced to sell it.
“Where are you, Vanek?” she asked, starting to feel a combination of nervousness and outright fear.
He’d promised not to do something like this.
And she’d believed him.
The elevator up to his suite was quick, and she was thankful that he’d insisted on giving her access several days earlier, just in case. Now it was working out in her favor. The doors opened up just as a helicopter thundered past the building, its rotors chopping at the air and vibrating the windows. Harlow cursed in surprise, wondering what the hell the pilot was doing flying so close to the buildings. Weren’t there regulations about that?
“Vanek?” she called cautiously, stepping out of the elevator as the doors slid closed behind her.
Only silence greeted her.
“Corde?”
No reply. Where the hell was everyone?
“Kylie?” She didn’t know the other woman well at all, only having met her once, but just in case she didn’t want to scare anyone.
Once more though nobody answered her call, prompting Harlow to move farther into the penthouse and up to the second floor, where they could most often be found. The upstairs was clean, looking as if it hadn’t been disturbed in some time.
Frustrated, she walked over to the room she and Vanek had shared together for the past few nights, wondering if perhaps he was asleep. Though why he would be asleep here and not have told her was a mystery. The door was open, and before she even entered Harlow knew the truth of the matter.
Vanek was gone.
His drawers were open, bunches of his clothes missing from within, as if they’d been hastily packed. Socks, underwear, shirts and pants. Each drawer was devoid of some of each.
Harlow felt the punch that ripped out her heart, the emotional impact staggering her physically as she reached out for the door frame, needing it for support as she sank to the ground. Fear welled up in her stomach and locked down any rational thought, pinning her in place as it pummeled her with visions of her father’s funeral and the months of pain she’d been in afterward.
“No,” she gasped as darkness closed in at the edges of her vision, hysteria taking full hold.
The tears refused to come, anxiety overwhelming even that base instinct within her. Giant sobs caused her lungs to work overtime as they fought to supply her with oxygen to prevent her from hyperventilating. It was a losing effort though, and the noises of her struggle filled the room, reflecting back against her and only intensifying the reaction.
He had left her. Without warning, without reason. Not even a letter to explain why he’d gone. It was worse than her father’s abandonment. She’d shared with him her fears, and then he’d gone and done exactly that. Harlow was devastated, the mental agony too strong for any rationality to punch through, locking down her brain with its depressing and defeating imagery.
Once again, she’d let a man into her life and he’d broken her trust. She should have known better. It was all her fault. It had to be. Why else would they keep on leaving her behind, abandoning her when she needed them most? Once was a coincidence, but twice was the start of a pattern, and the only common theme in it was her. Something was wrong with Harlow.
She didn’t know what, but the knowledge that she’d screwed up somehow weighed down upon her heavily. Even her mother had left Harlow, dying when she was young. Someone out there hated her, and was ruining her life every way they conceivably could. Her father. Her mother. Her float company. Her Vanek.
She laughed, a hysterical noise torn from her throat. Her Vanek indeed. He had never been hers she saw now. When she’d tried to make him hers, to open up to him, he’d left. He saw the destruction that was her mind and soul, and wanted no part of it whatsoever. The empty drawers were just the physical proof.
For a long time Harlow lay on the cold floor, trying to figure out what was wrong with her.