I don’t have a job anymore and no real money either.
I’d last a day, maybe two on my own before I had to come crawling back to-
No.
No, no, no. I love Tony and I know deep down he loves me too. He wants me, and I won’t let this crazy woman trick me like she’s trying to trick everyone else.
Stacy sighs loudly and goes to fix herself a drink, something she’s long overdue for.
I slip into my room, and with the door closed, I pack a small bag with the few precious things I can’t be without, along with some clothes and my phone, and a roll of cash I’ve been saving since I can remember.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” Stacy asks me when I reappear, heading for the door.
I turn to her, but I can’t think of one thing I want to say to her.
Without a word, I open the door and pull it shut behind me, Stacy screams that she’ll change the locks; that I’m never to return if I leave her now.
Tony? I hope I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life… but I want to go home… my real home.
Our home.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tony
Max’s plan is thorough, and he’s giving me the rundown in his deepest, lecturing voice. Looking down frequently as he works on something else at the same time, probably another client, maybe something to do with me. Who knows?
But I can’t focus on anything he’s saying. All I can think of is Ashlee, all I want is her back here with me.
After a few minutes, I can’t stand it. Max’s voice is annoying me now and I fumble for my phone, deciding to do a little multi-tasking of my own.
Max only stops talking when I start, but I’m not talking to him.
It’s the cleaning agency I’m calling.
“They’re doing a fine job,” I reassure them. “I just need to call Ashlee, the daughter of the… yes, that’s right. Would you mind? Oh no, it’s fine… I can have an autographed picture sent out if you’d like… Oh, you’re too kind… Who should I make that out to…? Bridgette… No problem. The number… please? Ashlee’s number?” I have to remind the bubbly receptionist, melting off her chair when Tony Fontana himself calls through to get the number of one of their cleaners.
It’s the only thing I can think of, and I only hope I’m not too late.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Max says in his best attorney baritone, looking over his glasses and trying to disguise the mischief in his own eyes.
“Oh, I know what I’m doing,” I promise him, punching in Ashlee’s number, praying she’ll answer.
When it goes to voicemail, three times, I growl out loud, snarl again and punch at the air.
“Easy, Tony. Take it easy,” Max says, comforting me. “Take a few minutes and a deep breath, then try again.”
It’s the most stupid, dumbest… most sensible advice he’s ever given me, and free I hope.
He charges by the hour, which is why I’m worried he’s set himself up in my lounge room, working on other cases at the same time.
It’s worth it, but all of it’s for nothing if I can’t have Ashlee.
I breathe, I wait, but I’m no calmer. At least I have her number, but if she’s not answering, what’s the point?
I start to pace and Max breathes through his nose, looking down his glasses at me again, accusing me of breaking his concentration.
I try her number again, this time actually leaving a message in the hope she might just be screening her calls.
Max smiles to himself, humming a few bars of some tune I know he likes. Classical stuff.
He chuckles warmly when he hears my cell chiming, and I answer it, breathless except for one word.
“Ashlee?”
It’s her, and I feel my heart leap, a groan escaping me, like a relief I’ve never known until her.
All of what in, a few hours?
Incredible, she’s just incredible.
“Tony? she asks, and I can hear she’s been crying, making my jaw clench and my hands fists, the phone creaking in one of them.
“It’s me. Where are you? Why’d you…?” but I stop myself, I don’t want to lecture her for leaving, I just want her back.
“I don’t know, I’m walking… I’ve left home. I’m not going back… Oh, Tony I don’t know what I’m gonna do!” she says, starting to cry again.
“You’ll come home to me. D’ya hear me?” I tell her, feeling her nodding, picturing her all alone, walking around without me there to protect her. It’s too much.
“Tell me exactly where you are, Ashlee… uh-huh… now, stay on the phone, will you. I’m coming to get you myself… yes! Right now, don’t move and stay on the line!”
I put the phone down, scrambling to search for my car keys. I hardly ever drive anywhere, a studio car or my own private drivers ferry me around.
The jingling of a set of keys gets my attention.
“Take mine, Tony. I’ll wait here.”
I snatch his keys without thinking, then scooping the phone back up, making sure Ashlee’s still on the line, I head for the door.
“And don’t forget that young receptionist’s autograph!” he bellows, humping to himself before resuming his own work, charging me by the hour for the privilege of using my home as his office.
It’s about a half hour drive, and although I try and keep her on the phone, my heart stops when the signal cuts out.
Shifting up a gear in Max’s Mercedes, I try and keep to the speed limit, knowing where she is and the fact I’m on my way to her should be enough, but it’s not.
I won’t rest until she’s in my arms again and I’m never letting her go again, not ever.
Not for anything or anyone.
It’s my own radar as much as her directions that finds her. I see her outlined in white before I
