T h i r t e e n-1

She left two and a half hours ago and nothing. Not a fucking word. What the hell did she expect me to do? Wait? I didn't have the luxury of time. She was leaving in just over a week and the time I had left with her was slipping away. Fast. Faster than I liked. Rather than pacing the suite playing over her words, I'd decided about an hour ago to leave the hotel. I'd been cooped up in that place far too long. I'd walked around until I found a quiet looking Italian restaurant that I could eat in alone and wait pathetically for her not to call me. The quiet panic that had settled over me just before she left hadn't subsided. In fact, the opposite had happened. It had slowly built so that it was louder, and far more difficult to ignore. She said I'd always had her. Did that mean I didn't have her anymore? Was it past tense? I didn't have her right now that was for sure. I stare down at my blackberry again, my fingers itching to dial her number. Then, as if by magic, it rings. It's not Charlie though. It's Elena. I'm tempted to ignore it again, but I'd done that twice already today and it wouldn't go down well. Plus it could be something urgent and she might need me. "Elena," I say. "Sorry. I couldn't take the call earlier. I was tied up with something." "No problem darling. Is everything Ok? I tried you at the apartment and the office earlier too. Andrea said you were staying in New York for the week?" She sounds confused. "Everything's fine. And yes, I am staying for the week." Was I? Still? Did Charlie still want me here? I no longer knew the answer to any of those questions. "Personal business she said." It's a question. A question I'm not entirely sure I want to answer. Charlie was personal. Elena was business, mainly. "A friend needed my help." Is all I say. "Ok." She sounds mildly offended by my short answer but I could care less at this moment. "Anything I can help with? You don't sound like yourself sweetheart. You know talking is always best..." I take a deep breath and ponder her words. "You know what, you're right Elena," I gesture for the waiter and indicate for my check. "I have to go. We'll speak soon. I'll call you in a few days. Hope everything's well with you." I hang up probably a little too abruptly and fish some cash out of my wallet before the waiter even comes. I dial Gideon's number just as the waiter returns with the check. "Missed me didn't you?" he says with a low laugh. "Not even remotely." "Well, if this is to tell me Walker came back begging for our money it's too late. I spent it." "That would require common sense. Something I'm pretty certain he doesn't have." "Told you he was a prick. Never understood what Charlie saw in him," he grumbles. "Speaking of which... thought you two would be making up for lost time? Give you a breather did she?" "Actually, she left right after he did," I take a deep breath. I hated this. Hated asking for things from others. But this was important. This was her. "Gideon, I need your advice. You know her better than I do. What the hell do I do?" I hear him take a long deep breath. "Where are you? Fancy a beer?" *** Gideon's choice of place is trendy yet inviting. Deliberately made to look rustic and old, with darkly lit booths, soft lighting hanging above each table and old newspaper sheets as wallpaper which blast headlines about New York. It's busy, people crowded around the bar chatting loudly and animatedly, as they jostle each other out of the way to get served. As directed, I push my way to the back and find him sitting alone in one of the dark red leather booths with a beer in front of him as he scrolls on his cell. He looks up as I approach and smiles. Literally as I slide into the booth next to him, the waitress appears and places a bottle of beer in front of me. It's Blue Moon. Charlie's favourite. Gideon flicks his eyes up to me and smiles. "Nice touch," I say, lifting the bottle to inspect the familiar looking label. "I thought so. Never liked the stuff myself but I know you did." He lifts his bottle of Budweiser to touch it to my bottle. "Actually not so much. I just wanted to impress her." I smile. "Pathetic." "Yeah well, Charlie sorta had that effect on you. People were always desperate to be everything they thought she wanted," he sips his beer, before motioning to a passing waitress from whom I order a glass of Barbera, which earns me an eye roll from Gideon. "She never much cared either way though," he says once we're alone again. "She knew what she wanted and it was normally what she didn't have." Gideon says. It isn't an insult because his tone is warm. It's just spoken like someone who tried and failed at being what she wanted. "So what does she want Gideon?" He raises an eyebrow at me. "Seriously, Christian?" I sit back and look at the ceiling. "That was then. She wanted me then. Things change." I look back at him, but her words are still running through my head.