If I've ever needed a sign to believe in miracles, Ava and I both getting to the hotel with no sign of the Prius or Escape is it. Tunnel vision takes over after we meet in the lobby, with the other people there fading into the background now that I'm no longer scanning my surroundings every five seconds. The chatter around me quiets to a muted buzz as Ava and I casually stroll over to the elevators and adopt a calm and carefree air, as though it's a perfectly normal Sunday afternoon in Hollywood. It's an award-worthy act.
Once we're in our room, with the privacy hanger on the doorknob and the deadbolt in place, it all changes. Ava has questions.
I tell her everything I pieced together this morning after finding the gun. She listens, nodding at times. When I've finished explaining my theories, she doesn't ask me anything or play devil's advocate. She simply hugs me.
"We'll figure out what to do," she promises.
"What can we do? The police already want to see Phoenix. What if the message on his phone and me confronting him spooked him into hiding, or worse, into lurking around my place until my guard is down and I go home? We can't stay here forever."
"We can stay here today and tonight, though, and tomorrow night if we have to. It gives us time to come up with something."
"Yeah." It's tough to fathom any way out of this, even if we had all the time in the world.
Ava gets to her feet and crosses the room. She stops when she gets to the desk, and then reaches for a canvas shopping bag she left there. "I brought wine and a cheesecake I had in my freezer. I wasn't really thinking when I leftâI just grabbed what was in sight. A reality break for sugar might help us think."
I'm not hungry, even though the last meal I ate was dinner last night. I should try to eat, though, and the wine could help mellow me out. I give Ava a weak smile.
"We've come up with some of our best ideas over cheesecake and wine."
"Exactly. We can pretend we're back in the dorms in college, plastic cups and all."
"It would be nice to rewind our lives back to those days." It was a time before Phoenix and I dated, when I only knew of him from afar. If I'd known then what I know now, I would have kept it that way.
Ava picks up the TV remote and presses a button. "Movie marathon?" she asks.
"Only if it's all comedies. Our lives have enough drama right now."
"Agreed." She stops changing channels when a teenage Alicia Silverstone appears on the screen.
The distraction works for a couple of hours. It's unhinged to be watching Clueless in a hotel room, while picking at a slice of strawberry cheesecake and sipping Valpolicella, when my boyfriend might have killed someone and has people following Ava and me. I try not to think about it. For brief snatches of time here and there, I even succeed.
It's during the movie's closing credits, when the aftereffects of today's adrenaline kicks in and every cell in my body feels like it's been rolled over by a cement mixer, that my emotions take over. Not the ones driven by fear or survival, because that would be understandable. No, what sets me off is so inconsequential by comparison, it's laughable. I'm aware of this, but once the first tear rolls down my cheek, the rest follow like a waterfall.
I truly wanted to believe every word Phoenix said. How he realized he couldn't stay away, how he loved me the whole time we were apart, and how he loves me now. I wanted to believe in us. And yes, I'm thankful to be safe in this hotel room with my best friend, but other parts of me are broken.
What is it about the human need for romantic love? It's such an instinctual and innate desire to be whole on your own but more together. To be valued and adored by someone, and to value and adore them. To face the world together, knowing you have each other. To fully believe you won't wake up one day and discover the person you trusted with your heart and soul, and your shadows and your light, is only a character they played. That you won't find out you've been duped into performing on someone's tilted stage, where they manipulated you for self-serving reasons.
And yet.
All I have now are questions and doubts. Did Phoenix mean any of it, or was he only watching his own back? If my book was about something else, or if Ava and Torin hadn't discussed it that day and Phoenix hadn't overheard them, would he have continued our six-year divide for the rest of our lives?
I may never know. Once upon a time, I thought I had closure. Now it's just another gaping hole I'm left to mend as my tears continue to fall.
"Are you doing okay?" Ava's tone is soft and almost maternal.
I bite down on my bottom lip and shake my head.
"Do you need anything?"
"My heart in one piece and to trust my judgment again, but that's my fault."
"It isn't."
I swipe at my cheek with the back of my hand. "I let him in again when I should have known better. Believe someone the first time they show you who they are, right? You tried to warn me."
"I was his biggest skeptic, but even I didn't see this coming. You can't blame yourself. I won't let you."
Ava gets up and joins me on my bed. She hugs me again, like she did before the movie.
We don't brainstorm a single solution that night. Instead, we watch two more movies and order overpriced room service food for dinner and another bottle of wine. The growing alcohol buzz eventually numbs my mind and emotions, until the early hour when my eyelids and limbs become too heavy to stay awake.
Ava's voice is the next thing I'm aware of.
"Del, wake up."
She sounds frantic. My eyes fly open, because frantic isn't something Ava ever is. Did someone find us? Are we trapped here?
"I'm awake. What's going on?"
Daylight spills into the room from the window, but I have to blink a few times for Ava's face to come into focus. It's drained of color. She passes me her phone.
"Read it. I can't-- just read it."
She sinks onto her bed, then reaches for a pillow and hugs it to her chest. Am I mentally prepared for what she wants me to read? I glance at the phone and scan a news article she left open on its screen.
"No," I whisper.
A familiar face stares up at me, but the person in the mug shot below the article's headline isn't Phoenix. It's Nash.
Charges laid in death of missing Orange County woman
A 31-year-old man has been charged with second-degree murder in the death of former Aliso Viejo resident Elenna Paseo. The man, also a former Aliso Viejo resident, is being held without bail.
Nathaniel "Nash" Larviksen was taken into police custody in Las Vegas early Monday morning. Sources say Larviksen was a longtime friend of Paseo. The two grew up as neighbors and attended school together. Paseo and Larviksen reportedly remained close friends until Paseo went missing.
A source connected to both the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department and the Orange County Sheriff's Department, who spoke on condition of anonymity, claimed Hollywood actor Phoenix Alden worked closely with authorities in Nevada and California to obtain information and evidence that led to the arrest. Alden was said to be a friend of both Paseo and Larviksen.
A police spokesperson confirmed Paseo's body has been recovered, but would not disclose further details. Unconfirmed rumors allege her body was found in the Mojave Desert last week.
This story will be updated as more information becomes available.
The phone slips out of my hand and lands on the bed. I look at Ava. She stares at me. Neither of us speaks. We don't have to.
Of the two of us, Ava is the closest to Nash. She would have spent the night alone with him last weekend if she hadn't been in a state where Torin intervened. Did Nash have something to do with why she felt so out of it that night and passed out? It's no wonder she looks haunted.
What I just read flips everything upside down. Was Phoenix trying to protect both of us from Nash this entire time? Is that why he came to Nebula after hearing Ava and Torin talk about my book? And was his work with the police why he's been in Las Vegas for the last six months and couldn't tell me what he was working on or when it would wrap up?
The possibility sheds new light on his behavior. Could he have been helping police find Len's body in the desert when he went off the grid for a few days? And did he turn up at the show in Huntington Beach to make sure Ava and I remained safe?
It doesn't explain the guest room and the gun, but what if the guest room really was under renovation for no other reason than giving it a facelift? And what if I came to a horrible conclusion based on finding a gun that was legally owned, even if having a gun is completely out of character for Phoenix? If there was enough evidence to charge Nash with second-degree murder this morning, then it means the firearm likely isn't what killed Len.
That leaves being followed. Was Phoenix behind it, or was Nash, or is something else going on? With Nash now in police custody, and Phoenix seemingly innocent of any crime, my gut instinct is Ava and I aren't in danger. But only Phoenix can tell me if he had anything to do with us being followed, and only he can answer the new questions I have.
"This probably means we can leave the hotel today." Ava's voice is hollow.
"I should talk to Phoenix. I can ask if he knows about us being followed."
I don't know if I'm replying to Ava as much as I'm trying to motivate myself to have the most uncomfortable conversation of my life, a day after I pretty much accused Phoenix of murder. Will he even talk to me now? I wouldn't if the roles were reversed and he thought I was capable of a heinous crime.
"You should talk to him at some point, but it doesn't have to be today if you aren't ready. I'll call him to ask about the Escape and Prius drivers if you want. Or we can take a chance, go home, and see if they're still around."
"I appreciate that, but no. I'm responsible for this mess and need to face up to it, if he'll even talk to me."
"Okay." Ava releases the pillow in her arms and sets it beside her. "In that case, I'm taking a shower."
She hoists herself up from the bed and shuffles into the bathroom. I can't tell if she wants to be alone with her thoughts, or if she's giving me privacy to call Phoenix.
I pick my phone up from the table between the two beds. Phoenix's voicemail from yesterday morning is still waiting to be heard. Now is probably the time to listen to it, even if the message makes me want to shrivel up in a corner more than I already do.
My finger hovers over the play button. I jab at the screen and squeeze my eyes shut.
"Please call me, Del. As bad as everything looks, it isn't what it seems like. I can understand why you think I--" There's the muffled sound of him clearing his throat. "I can't say more than that in a message. There are reasons I haven't been able to tell you more than I have. I promise it will all be clear soon. Just... I need to talk to you."
The message ends there.
He was right. It is clear now. I rub a hand over my face and contemplate my phone. How do I even start to apologize for the assumption I made and what it means about my trust in him until this point? All he's done is try to win it back, and I wouldn't let him.
I open my contact list and unblock him, then tap the call icon under his name. After five rings, there's a click, and my call goes to voicemail. My heart sinks when Phoenix's voice tells me to leave a message. My brain fumbles for appropriate words to speak. It doesn't come up with much.
"Hi. I heard about Nash. Saying I owe you an enormous apology doesn't really cover it. Can we talk? There's something else, too. Ava and I are both being followed and don't know if we're safe or what's going on. Do you know if Nash has anything to do with that?"
I stop there, since I don't know what else to say. It's an awkward lull while the voicemail records my silence, until I end the call.
All I can do now is wait. I put my phone screen-side down on the table so I'm not staring at it and willing the screen to light up with a call, then reach for my laptop. There's bound to be more out there about Nash's arrest and potentially about Phoenix's role in it.
While I brought my laptop with me to the hotel, I haven't opened its lid since Saturday afternoon. When I do, I wish I'd left it shut. I blocked Phoenix on my phone yesterday, but I'm also signed in to receive messages on my laptop. It's either a glitch or by design, but texts Phoenix sent me yesterday that were blocked from my phone are in front of me now on the screen. One in particular is a slap in the face.
I was still in Antigua the day Len vanished. I was out of rehab, but I stayed there another week and a half to explore the island. I didn't find out she was gone until after I got home. Police confirmed all of this during their investigation. There were multiple video recordings from my hotel and the airport in Antigua to confirm I was where I said I was when Len went missing.
There's a photo below the message. It shows a laptop screen displaying a check-in confirmation email for a flight from V. C. Bird International Airport in Antigua to LAX, with a layover and connecting flight in Miami. Phoenix's name, flight date, flight numbers, departure times, and seat numbers are listed in the email. His departure was four days after the date Len was recorded walking down her street by a neighbor's security camera and wasn't seen again.
He wasn't even in the United States. If I'd given him a chance to tell me that yesterday and to show me the check-in email, I wouldn't be holed up in a hotel room with Ava right now, feeling like I've made the worst mistake of my life.
My phone chimes. A message from Phoenix pops up on my laptop screen at the same time.
I can't talk right now. The guys following you were security I hired when Nash was trying to get with Ava and he asked you for theories about Len.
I read the message three times, and each time deflates me more. All Phoenix wanted to do was protect Ava and me. No one would pay for private security to make sure we were safe unless they truly cared.
What have I done?
༺â༻ ༺â༻ ༺â༻
Nash, y'all? NASH?
That is all. Well no, that's not all, because there's more coming, but you know...
I'd love to know what you're thinking right now, as long as it doesn't involve yelling at me. (Kidding. You can yell at me.)