Page 107 of Heartsick & Lipsticks
Popular Podcaster’s Murderous Past Exposed
Nicholas Locke: Murder in the Family
“I’m so sorry!” Lola apologized. “I need to go see Naomi and tell her what happened.”
Naomi. I hadn’t even thought about how this would affect her, but of course it would. I’d only been concerned about Nick and what this would do to him. But the domino effect didn’t stop with him. Naomi’s past was being consumed as tabloid fodder.
“No! You’ve done enough. Don’t say anything to anybody.” I rushed to my closet and slid on my tennis shoes before hurrying to the kitchen and grabbing my keys.
“Where are you going?” Lola asked as I grabbed my keys and purse.
“I have to go see Nick. I need to tell him face-to-face.”
“I’ll go and expla—”
“No. Stay here. I need to see him alone.” I didn’t look back at her; I just rushed out the door.
My feet thudded on the steps as I raced down them. I narrowly escaped a collision with Mr. Jenkins, who lived on the fourth floor. He was carrying groceries, and I had to Spider-Man against the wall to avoid him.
“Slow down,” he chastised me, wearing a generationally disapproving look.
“Sorry!” I apologized as I continued down the stairwell.
When I finally got to my car, I was huffing and puffing like I was going to blow a house down. Thanks to midday traffic, the three-mile drive took me over half an hour. Two blocks away from his building, I went to reach for my phone to text him and let him know I needed to speak to him, only to realize I must have left it on the charger in the bedroom. My first instinct was to turn around and go get it, but with traffic, that would take too long.
By the time I drove into the parking garage attached to his building, I was in full panic mode. I knew that Lola hadn’t meant to disclose private information, but that didn’t absolve her of what she’d done. Actions had consequences, and those consequences were blind to whether or not our intentions were good or bad. Things between Nick and his mom had just turned a corner, and now this. I didn’t want anything to derail or set them back.
I was still out of breath from rushing down the stairs at my apartment when I reached out to push the button to get the ticket for the garage. I pulled it from the machine and immediately dropped it. When I opened the door and bent over to retrieve it, my vision went blurry. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down, inhaling slowly through my nose and exhaling from my mouth. I needed to do damage control, and there was no way I could do that if I was hyperventilating or, worse, passed out on the ground. It took me a few minutes to find a parking spot. Once I did, I hopped out and rushed up two flights of stairs to ground level.
As I walked up to the large glass doors that had the words Locke Media Group etched into them, I was met with my own reflection. The tank top I wore had an orange spaghetti sauce stain on it that I’d been unable to remove, which was why it was my cleaning shirt. My denim shorts were a failed attempt at cutting a pair of jeans and had turned into daisy dukes. I would never wear them out in public, which was why they’d been demoted to cleaning attire. I didn’t have a drop of makeup on, and my hair was pulled up in a messy top bun. Not YouTube tutorial cute messy top bun. This was new-mom-hadn’t-slept-in-four-days messy top bun.
The woman before me was a disheveled, hot mess. When I left the house like it was on fire, I hadn’t given my appearance a second thought. I’d had emotional blinders on. All I could think about was needing to see Nick. But now, my steps slowed as I reached the building. I began to second-guess whether showing up at his place of work looking like I did was the right move. I almost turned around, but then I thought of his reaction to reading those headlines and I knew that I had to explain face-to-face.
Determined to make this right, I pushed open the door of Locke Media. I beelined it to the front desk. The young man with a rainbow-colored mohawk seated behind it greeted me with a warm smile. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m here to see Nick Locke.”
“Okay, do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
“What is this regarding?”
I panicked. I couldn’t tell him why I was here. “It’s…personal.”
His smile remained in place, but I noted the shift in his expression. It was clear he thought I was one of Nick’s lipstick Easter egg hiders. Or worse, he thought I was an obsessed fan.
He began to type on the computer. “And what is your name?”
“Skye Taylor.”
“Okay, Miss Taylor, if you’d like to take a seat, I’ll let someone know that you’re here.”
I wanted to tell him that this was important and demand to speak to Nick immediately, but I knew that would only make me seem more desperate. So instead of pleading my case, I did as he instructed and sat in the waiting room.
How could I have been so stupid and forgotten my phone?
The rubber soles of my shoes tapped on the concrete floor as my knee bounced nervously. Each minute that passed felt like a year. Urgency flooded my system as I mentally spit-balled other ways to get to Nick. One stuck to the wall. I could ask to speak to Jada instead of Nick. She would probably be easier to access. I stood to go do just that when the elevator doors opened, and Kurt walked out.
