BANGERZ 3: ON THE RUN (2017)

5. The Note

I look in his eyes - he knows.

"My name is Tessa. I know your daughter," I say. "And the boy up on that balcony? I'm the only one who can get him down."

Mr. Royston is surprised for a moment, but then he glances around and pulls me aside. "This cannot turn into a situation. I have a wedding going on in the ballroom. A few people outside have noticed him up there, but this needs to get under control before my employees or anyone else finds out. I don't need anyone going up there and causing a scene - "

"I promise I'm the only one he'll listen to. He's my boyfriend. Jason McCann."

At this Mr. Royston's demeanor changes entirely. I feel a brief surge of relief - I'm so used to the McCann name putting Jason in danger, but here, I see the doors it opens.

"The McCann boy? Didn't his father pass last month?" he says.

I nod. "He's having a hard time with it. And I know he wasn't drinking. This is something else."

"Frank was a good man. Shame his death was." Mr. Royston pauses, reflecting, before nodding and coming to his decision. "Come with me."

I follow him as he strolls over to the front desk. The receptionist straightens up immediately.

"Cassandra, please give this young lady a key to room 2338. And see to it that they she and Mr. McCann aren't disturbed for any reason."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Royston, of course."

She avoids my gaze as she hands over the card.

The elevator ride is excruciatingly long. I tap my foot and chew my lip and pace back and forth. When I get to the twenty-third floor I rush down the hallway, glancing quickly at the etched gold numbers on the doors. I whip out the key seconds before I reach Jason's room, anxious to get to him - but the door is cracked. All that difficulty downstairs for nothing - is he even here?

I swallow my nerves and push the door open slowly. "Jason?"

No answer. I enter, shutting the door behind me. The room is a luxurious suite, all plush carpeting, crisp linen bedding, and buttery leather furniture. But it's empty. Only the bedside table is occupied: there's a bottle of some distinguished liquor, Jason's coiled Rolex, Drakkar Noir cologne, and a box of cigarettes. It's all very masculine and upscale, like a bachelor pad - but also lonely, and in need of love. 

My heart squeezes. I feel a sudden chill - but it's not just my imagination. The door to the balcony is open, letting in the summery breeze that rustles the diaphanous white drapes. A Manila envelope is lying on the floor between the terrace and the room. I approach the door, picking it up before it blows away, and step outside carefully. It's so quiet that I think I'm alone - but then I see Jason, and I almost scream.

He sits on the banister, one leg resting along it and the other dangling on the safe side. He's leaning against a pillar and looking down like he's contemplating the drop. Erin was right - if he sneezes, or makes any movement for that matter, he'll go over the edge.

I'm paralyzed. Is this how Jason felt when he found me at the safe house? Or how his dad felt when he found him before that? If it is, I'll never forgive myself for putting him through that. Because right now, I'm so scared that there are stars in my eyes; I'm blindsided. I want to say something, call out his name, but I'm afraid of startling him. He doesn't know I'm here. I hold my breath and take a tentative step forward.