Not Another Line

11.Late Night Confessions

Silver Springs // Fleetwood Mac

My phone rings from across the hotel room as I'm getting out of the shower. I'm halfway dried off as I wrap the towel around my waist and rush to grab it. Colleen's name flashing has my heart racing. She doesn't call me, I call her. Something's wrong.

"Hello?" My voice is strained needing to know what the problem is so I can get to solving it. Fixing it. My mind is already racing with plans for flights and calls to the local police. I don't tense under pressure the way I'm tensing right now. My training keeps me calm. Logical. But this is different.

"Is your caller ID not working?" She teases with a hint of laughter in her voice. "Didn't you see it was me?" Colleen's voice is the opposite of mine. Light and airy. Like bells.

"Um, yeah I saw." I roll my neck, stretching the tension away so I can gain control over these runaway thoughts. Stop freaking the fuck out. What the hell is wrong with me? "That's why I was shocked. You don't usually call me."

"Because I never know if you'll be available." She laughs again. Bells. "My schedule is wide open working here alone all day so you can call whenever you have a chance. And with Brianna on this tour as well, there's really no one around. I thought I'd try and see if I got lucky."

That last line is quiet. I feel her loneliness through the phone, and it kills me. Finally forcing levity in my voice, I attempt to joke with her.

"Hmm, you got lucky all right." I wander back into the bathroom to finish drying off, now that my heart rate has returned to normal and my fight or flight has shut off. Cradling the phone against my shoulder, I turn on the faucet. I feel like a fucking idiot.

"Is this an okay time to talk?"

"Sure, why do you ask?" And here's the fight or flight making a return. What does she need to talk about? That's never good, is it?

"Oh, it sounded like you might have been in the bathroom. I heard the water running."

"Well, yeah. I just got out of the shower. But I can talk."

"Oh." Colleen clears her throat. "Yeah, so how's it going? Are things crazy? Did you apprehend any stalkers, yet?"

"Yet? Do you know something I don't?"

"Haha, no. But with Brianna's history..." Colleen leaves the rest unspoken but we both know what she's talking about.

"Right. It's not exactly a stretch is it." I put the phone on speaker and lean it against the mirror so I can dry my hair with my towel.

"No. Occupational hazard, I guess. I could never."

Good point.

"In my professional opinion, it really is an occupational hazard. One that keeps me paying my mortgage." Her comment makes me think of her safety, especially with the dark mental tornado her call sent me through. I should hesitate to ask, knowing what I have Frank working on, but end up saying it anyway.

"Has anyone ever had stalker tendencies with you?" I don't want to think Rosshole is actually a threat, but I don't want to brush off the gut feeling I have about the guy.

"Well, no. Not really."

Fuck.

"Not making me feel better, Colleen."

I hear her deep sigh. It eats away at the remaining doubt Ross is an issue.

"My ex had a hard time accepting when we were done. But it's fine. He got the message, finally."

"Still not making me relax." Instead, now I'm pretty much adding his mugshot to my L.A. team's list of faces to watch out for. "When exactly did he 'finally' get the message?"