Authors: Sara Fawkes
He paused a beat, then laughed. “You sure are good at pillow talk.”
I swatted him on the arm and he released me. “If I was doing pillow talk, you’d know it,” I teased, then sucked in a breath as his head whipped around to look at me.
“You going to back up that statement?”
My body responded to the challenge, but I tried to back away. “I need to get inside,” I said, pointing with both hands toward the club. There was something I was supposed to be doing … oh yeah. “I’m Clare’s designated driver tonight, I need to make sure she’s all right.”
I was pretty sure the other girl could take care of herself, but I was grasping at straws. My reason was pretty flimsy as excuses go, but I clung to it like a lifeboat. Everett grinned down at me and nodded, then swept his arms to the side. “Ladies first.”
The line into the club had grown since we’d stepped outside, but the bouncer at the door nodded us in. The lights had grown darker and the band was in full swing. As we got inside, I stopped and stared. “Is that Cole?”
“Yup.”
If I hadn’t known I was in some backwoods bar in Mississippi, I might have thought I was at an actual rock concert. Twisted Melody wasn’t playing like a bar band tonight; the crowd at their feet was yelling and screaming as if this was a venue. They were right in the middle of the new Fall Out Boy song, and judging from the cheering you’d think they were the real deal. “He’s pretty good.”
There’s an understatement
.
“He’ll be happy to know you think so. Now let’s find your friend.”
Finding Clare in the dark bar was trying to find a needle in a haystack. I didn’t see any redheads in the crowd, and I was starting to get nervous. It was silly; she was a grown girl, she could take care of herself. But I kept remembering her saying she’d never gone out like this before, and I felt protective of the girl who’d given up her job for me.
“Excuse me,” I called, sidling up to the bar. The dark-haired bartender sidled over to me quick enough. “Have you seen the girl I was with earlier?”
“Yeah, she was with some dude in a cowboy hat. Looked pretty sloshed already, too.”
I blinked. “She was drunk?” We’d only been outside a few minutes and, even if she couldn’t hold her liquid, the two shots shouldn’t have put her low this fast.
“He bought her another drink, then they danced for a second.” He hitched a shoulder. “I think she was getting sick so he helped her out.”
Coldness flooded through my body. “Which way did they go?”
The bartender pointed with his head toward the front entrance and I didn’t waste a minute. I didn’t care if I was rude as I pushed people aside, making a path for myself where none existed. The second I was back outside I moved straight for the well-lit parking lot, trying to identify anyone that might be carrying a semiconscious redhead woman.
“What’s wrong?” Everett asked.
“We need to find Clare
now
.” Panic in my heart, I ran out to the parking lot, almost twisting my ankle in the gravel. Pulling off my heels, I started looking all around, ignoring the bite of the small stones into the soles of my feet.
Everett was going down a second aisle, keeping parallel with me. While I appreciated his help, all I could think about was getting to Clare as quickly as possible. Why hadn’t I thought to ask the bartender how long it had been since he last saw her? Everett and I had been out less than twenty minutes, surely they couldn’t have left that quick.
I was peering inside cars and trucks, trying to search as many as quickly as I could and wasn’t watching my path. Suddenly a sharp pain shot up my leg and I almost fell. I cried out, leaning against a jacked-up truck, and almost instantly Everett was beside me. “You all right?”
Lifting my bare foot, I saw dark blood against the pale skin. It hurt like hell and I hissed in pain when Everett probed it. “No, I’ll be fine, I just …”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw another older four-door dually truck pull out, the headlights not even on yet. Through the window I barely identified the silhouette driving had a cowboy hat, and someone slumped over in the passenger seat. Pushing off Everett and the truck, I stumbled past and out into the open, right in front of the truck.
There was a squeal of tires and the crunch of gravel, and the truck stopped in time to barely nudge me. I stood there, leaning against the hood in agony. The driver’s side door opened and a blond boy stepped out. “What the fuck!”
Staggering sideways, I limped to the passenger side and pulled open the door to find nobody there. Slamming it shut, I pulled open the rear door, then clambered into the back seat. “Clare, can you hear me? Wake up, sweetie.”
“What the hell are you doing, bitch?”
Hands tugged at my hips, trying to pull me out of the car, then they slid off as something skidded across the gravel. I glanced back to see Everett standing between me and the pissed-off truck driver, who was on his ass several feet away. I couldn’t see his face, but from the squared set of his shoulders, Everett looked ready for a fight.
“Stay down there until she’s done.”
Trusting him to deal with the cowboy, I shook Clare again. “Come on, girl, wake up.”
When I tapped her cheeks, Clare snorted awake, blinking up at me. “Hey,” she said, a sleepy smile crossing her face. Then almost immediately she grimaced. “I don’t feel so good.”
“C’mon, man, I was just taking her home.”
The cowboy’s words hit just the right button as rage consumed me. Momentarily abandoning my groggy friend, I backed out of the truck just as the cowboy climbed back his feet. “What did you give her?”
“I didn’t give her anyth—”
I launched myself into him, grabbing at his shirt and pushing him backward. “Don’t you
fucking
mess with me,
what did you give her
?”
“You’re crazy, bitch!” He pushed me away, knocking me sideways onto my bad foot. The pain made my legs buckle and down I went, right next to his booted feet. I saw one move backward as if he was going to kick me, then Everett slammed him to the ground. The sound of gravel and fists flying came from around the vehicle. For a moment I wasn’t sure who to help, Clare or Everett, but when I heard my friend moan from inside the truck I chose to help her.
I half-helped, half-dragged the groggy Clare out of the back seat and onto her feet. My heel was fine to put weight on but kept digging into the soft gravel. Once we rounded the vehicle, Everett stood up quickly, staying between us and the cowboy. “Get in your truck,” he said, pointing at the vehicle, “and leave.”
“You’re in a world of hurt, asshole.” The man glared at Everett, wiping blood from his chin as he stumbled to the driver’s side. “My buddies are gonna fuck your ass up good.”
I wanted to launch myself at him and rip that cocky smirk off his face, but settled for hobbling over and grinding his hat into the gravel. He cursed but didn’t come after it, jumping into the still-running truck and gunning the gas. Gravel flew up under the tires, pinging nearby cars and pelting us as he sped out of the parking lot, fishtailing out the narrow exit. I made a mental note of the license plate, searing the letters into my brain.
Clare squinted after the truck. “Why was I in there?” she mumbled in confusion, leaning heavily onto me.
I looked at Everett. “I need to take her home.”
“We can take my car, you can’t drive with that foot.”
Dammit, he was right. Even wiggling my toes hurt like crazy.
The small car had just enough room for me to stay in the back with Clare. I was afraid she was going to throw up on my feet a couple times but mostly she seemed content to touch everything. “Your hair is so soft,” she said, her head rolling on my lap.
“Where does she live?” Everett asked from the front seat.
It took us four tries to get an address out of the groggy Clare, but eventually we pulled into a multistory complex. They were actually fairly upscale condos with a great view of the gulf. Everett carried her up the stairs and I followed, fishing around in her purse for the keys.
“Lay her on the couch.” I turned on some lights to the kitchen, poking through the refrigerator. Pulling out two bottled waters, I grabbed a nearby dishrag and sat down beside an agitated Clare’s head.
She grabbed my thigh. “I don’t feel good.”
“I know honey.” To Everett I asked softly, “Can you find a small trash can or bucket?”
“Any idea what he gave her?” he asked, handing me a small bathroom garbage can a moment later.
“My guess is either E or a roofie. She seems more tired than wired so I’m guessing the second.” I looked up at Everett, the corners of my mouth turning down. “I can’t leave her alone like this.”
“I know, I wouldn’t ask you to anyway.” He sat down on the wood coffee table as I wiped Clare’s forehead with the wet rag, then pointed at my sore foot. “Here, let me see that.”
I’d been putting this off, afraid what we’d find. Biting my lip, I lifted my injured foot onto his knee, wincing as he probed the tender skin. “There wasn’t much bleeding, which is good,” he said, “but I need to clean it out.”
Ten minutes later, after rummaging around Clare’s bathroom for some first-aid items, he packed some gauze around the cut and started bandaging my foot. “So, did you know that cowboy?”
I eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”
“You seemed really pissed at him.”
I blew out a breath, tamping down the old anger. “No, I didn’t know him, but … Well, I had a friend in high school who was roofied and raped. It ruined her life.”
He looked up at me, hands stilling around my foot. “What happened to her?”
I just shrugged my shoulders, not wanting to get into it. He continued wrapping my foot, then put one of those little clips to keep it tight. “Promise me you’ll go see a doctor if it gets red and infected.”
For some reason, his protective command made me smile. “All right, I promise.”
“You want me to stay?”
To be honest, I did. Clare was still playing with my hair, but her eyes were nearly closed and she was mumbling soft, incoherent phrases. “Do you work tomorrow?” I asked him, and then sighed when he nodded. “This isn’t my house, and I don’t know what Clare would want.”
He nodded, lips twisting in obvious regret. “I’ll go then.”
“I got another job,” I blurted out as he stood, not ready for him to leave. “Over at the country club. I get to play piano for the rich people.”
A smile spread across his face. “That’s fantastic, you must be over the moon.”
I nodded, biting my lip. “I don’t know if you can come see me play though, I think it’s a private club.”
“Trent’s family are members, maybe we’ll stop by one day to see you.”
“I’d like that.”
He rounded the couch toward the door, then paused and leaned down to kiss the top of my head. His lips lingered for several beats, and I closed my eyes, savoring the moment. “You take the GED on Tuesday, right?” When I nodded, the corners of his mouth turned up. “One last practice session Monday night?”
I smiled back. “Definitely.”
I knew she meant well, but Clare’s apologies for her “behavior” at the club were getting annoying.
She’d awoken up the next morning completely confused, not remembering anything of the previous night. When she asked me what happened, I made a judgment call and told her she’d had too much to drink, and that Everett and I had brought her home early. I left out any mention of the cowboy or my fears that she’d been drugged, but Clare still took the news hard, thinking she’d ruined our night.
Everett had managed to get our cars from the bar to Clare’s condo, so we weren’t stranded. I said my good-byes to Clare and climbed into the Bronco, heading home. On the seat beside me was the paperwork Andrew had given me the day before to fill out, and I glanced at it repeatedly as I drove toward home. At the last minute, I turned into a shopping center a block from the trailer park.
“Can I borrow a pen?” I asked the girl at the counter as I paid for my ice cream.
Breakfast of champions
. Thankfully right beneath an air-conditioning vent, there was a seat open in the corner for me to fill out the papers.
I pulled out my phone and, after a moment’s hesitation of wondering if this was the right way to do it, I texted the number Andrew gave me.
< This is Lacey St. James, where did you want me to turn in the application again? >
Halfway through filling out the paperwork, my phone buzzed atop the table.
< I’m available in half an hour. Meet me out front of the clubhouse, I’ll give your name to the men at the gate. >
I chewed the inside of my lip.
< Just FYI, I drive a 73 Ford Bronco. >
The next text was quick in coming.
< Sexy. Have valet park it next to my dad’s Lamborghini, that should piss him off. >
The reply made me laugh out loud.
< You’re going to get me fired before I’m technically hired. >
< I won’t, trust me. >
I had no idea what to wear, except that I doubted the short skirt I still wore from the previous night would be welcomed in a classy institution. Fortunately, I had a pair of jeans in the backseat, which at least covered more skin.
The guards at the gate didn’t seem to believe I was being allowed inside, insisting on seeing my ID to compare to their list. When that checked out, they called into the clubhouse, presumably to speak to Andrew himself. The situation amused me, which was probably the whole point. Why be in charge if you can’t have a little fun sometimes?
Once I got past the gate, the valet out front of the clubhouse seemed confused by my message. “Mr. Ford wouldn’t say that.” The young valet seemed nervous when I relayed Andrew’s suggestion. He looked dubiously at my pride and joy, as if not sure where on the grounds he could hide the truck.
“I did actually say that.” The blond man strode through the doors, towering over the smaller valet. His voice was good humored when he ruffled the younger man’s hair. “Jasper, you need to live a little. I’d pay good money to see my dad’s reaction.”
“Respectfully. sir, it would be me your dad would fire if he caught it out there.”
Andrew sighed. “You’re probably right.” He beckoned to me as I grabbed the paperwork from the passenger seat and handed the valet my keys. “Come to my office, we can discuss pay and do the paperwork, then I can take you on a tour of the property.”