Manic Attack

VII. Neat And Klein

"I could've sworn I saw Daniel Shaw at the Ritz not even five minutes ago. You sure he's in Spain?"

I couldn't sleep. No matter how many sheep I counted, how many times I spritzed lavender oil on my pillow cases or how many glasses of cold milk I drank, sleep had left me. It was probably staying at the Ritz too.

Wrapping my head around the things I had learned today was beginning to sizzle my brain cells to a crisp. Right from the get-go, Edward Moseby had shocked me by his stubbornness. If I hadn't realized it earlier, I was now certain that working with him would come with its own set of unique challenges. As exasperating as he was, I doubt I have ever been as concerned for someone as I was when he spit out quotes like a wannabe Tumblr aesthetic hoe.

And Dan. My beautiful beau who was so done with this hot mess, he resorted to lying about flying out of the country than spend another minute in my company. Questions, crushing and urgent, were clouding my mind-

Why the Ritz? It's not even close to the airport in case he wanted to stop before getting on an airplane.

I should've asked Derek for more details. Although hinting at Daniel Shaw's troubled love life to a tabloid reporter would be akin to casually spelling out my Social Security number to a con artist. My stupidity had caused enough damage to last a lifetime. I didn't want it to ruin my next one as well.

Why didn't he tell me? What was he doing there? Was he with someone? Was it a female, or was it a male? A man! Is that what this was about? Him considering all the directions he wanted to swing in before calling it quits?

Telling myself that this was the last time I would try to call my boyfriend tonight, I dialed in his local number. Unavailable. I called the number he used during the last time he was in Spain and just like all my emotional securities- unavailable.

Billy's blissful snores reverberated through the quiet of my bedroom. The air conditioning hummed evenly while the drone of an airplane flying past hijacked the silence I usually yearned after a long day at work. Today, it was deafening. A single glass of water stood on my bedside. The space beside mine in bed felt cold and endless as if it had never wrinkled and warmed under the presence of fierce passion. I rolled out of bed and put on a cotton tee, a pair of sweatpants, sneakers, grabbed my car keys, and locked the apartment behind me. My destination was uncertain but the need to escape loneliness had never made itself more obvious.

After fifteen minutes of aimless driving, I found myself looking up at the massive, towering structure called The Ritz-Carlton hotel.

I'm here. Dan may be queer. Time to pull him out of the closet of lies.

I walked into the lavish marble and wood lobby. The soft amber lighting and sharply dressed employees instantly making me feel conscious of how out of place I must look. A young receptionist watched me with a plastic smile as I approached her desk. I could feel her scanning my worn out, Cinderella-but-after-midnight appearance.

"Welcome to the Ritz-Carlton, ma'am. How may I help you?"

I smiled, tucking a loose lock of hair behind my ear. "Hi. I'm here to visit a friend. His name is Daniel Shaw."

Her eyes widened at the mention of Dan's name. She was Shelby, according to her name tag, sporting a hair bun tied so tightly, her eyebrows resembled inverted Nike signs. After a brief moment clicking and peering at a sleek monitor she said, "I'm sorry, ma'am. We don't have anyone with that name staying here."

I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I was holding. What was I thinking? Of course, Dan wasn't here. He told me himself he was flying. Why would he stay back and not tell me? I really needed to keep my thoughts going into overdrive sometimes. I laughed in relief, internally cursing my tendency to overthink. If I worked out half as much as I dwelled on negative thoughts, I'd have biceps rivaling Chris Hemsworth's.