I glance at Paige in the rearview mirror. She catches my eye and gives me a look that distinctly says “What the hell have you gotten me into?” I quickly turn my focus back to the road. I don’t know what to tell her. Sorry, I wasn’t really thinking straight? My apologies if he hacks out our innards with a rusty pocketknife?
I could drop her off at home, or even back at Jessie’s house, but the truth is I don’t want to be alone with this guy, even if the drive is less than ten minutes. Guess I’ve grown rather fond of my innards.
“Got any tunes?” Bishop reaches for the dial on the radio. He skips from station to station.
“Would you quit that?” I ask.
“Got Sirius? An iPod? A CD, even?” He opens the glove compartment and rummages inside.
I slap his hand away. “Do you mind?”
“What?”
“Don’t touch anything, okay? Just sit there and be quiet.”
He snorts, but miraculously, he obeys.
That’s when I notice how incredibly deserted Los Angeles has become. I mean, we do pass cars, but the traffic is about an eighth of what it usually is, and only the occasional upstairs light is on inside the houses lining North Highland. I glance at the clock on the dash and find that it’s after three in the morning. A thought strikes me: what if the party is over? It wouldn’t be uncommon for the cops to bust up one of Jarrod’s rockers.
But my fears are quickly dispelled when I take a right onto Lorraine Boulevard. Vehicles, parked end to end, line the narrow street, and even though Jarrod’s house is blocks away, the faint bass of club music pounds above the hum of the Sunfire’s engine.
“Windsor Square!” Bishop says. “You never told me this was a wine-and-appetizer party.”
I get lucky and find a spot only a block from Jarrod’s massive Tudor house. If I squint, I can even see the silhouettes of bodies moving in the backlit windows.
I cut the engine, and Bishop unfastens his seat belt.
“Come on,” he says. “I'm sure there’s plenty of bruschetta to go around. No need to be shy.”
“Ha-ha,” I deadpan.
“Oh, right.” Bishop nods sagely. “Forgot you flashed your ass to half of Los Angeles earlier. Not shy at all.”
I smack him on the arm, and he laughs.
“You go ahead, Bishop,” Paige says. “We'lll meet up with you in a minute.”
Bishop narrows his eyes.
“Girl talk,” she explains.
Paige? Girl talk? I almost burst out laughing, but Bishop just shrugs.
“Whatever. More J?ger for me.” He hops out of the car and saunters up the sidewalk, disappearing into Jarrod’s house.
Oh God. Here it comes.
“Care to explain to me what the hell is going on?” Paige asks.
I swivel in the seat to face her. “I’m giving him what he wants, okay?”
“Yeah, right. Of course. Good idea.” She barks a laugh, neurotically bobbing her crossed leg so that the whole car rocks.
“Paige—"
“Have you lost your mind?” she interrupts. “You’ve just chauffeured some crazy dude to a party where all your friends are.”
When she says it like that, it does sound pretty off the rails.
“We’re not staying long,” I reason.
She sears me with a look.
I sigh, facing forward again.
The sounds of the party come into focus. I wonder what Devon is doing at this moment, how he’s going to react when he sees me. My nerves stretch tight, and I tap my fingers on the steering wheel.
“Well, it’s obviously too late to leave now,” I say, breaking the silence.
“Is it?” Paige asks incredulously.
“I should at least get Bishop out of there. What if he’s murdering people or something?”
Okay, probably not the best argument.
“Look,” I say, facing her again. “I’m just going to go in quickly and check on things and then we’ll leave, okay?”
She rolls her eyes, as if she was expecting something like this to happen, and then pulls out her phone.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Texting Jessie.”
“Why?”
“Because she wanted an update on your dog, if you must know.” She taps at the screen.
“Dog? What dog?”
“Your dog is dying,” she says without looking up.
“I don’t have a dog.”
She glances up. “Oh, would you prefer I’d told her the truth?” She takes my horrified expression as an answer and returns to her typing. “Didn’t think so. He’s not going to make it, by the way. Poor Tripod. really should have laid off the thongs. But they were his favorite, and it wasn’t his fault you kept your underwear laying around the house all the time.”
What the … ? I try to snatch the phone from Paige, but she pulls it close to her chest and grins. When the hell did she get so snarky? I watch, annoyed, as Paige taps away at her phone. She better not open her mouth about this at school.
I start to open the car door, but something niggles at the back of my mind, stopping me from leaving. I try to push the concern back, but it just shoves itself forward again, refusing to be ignored. Dammit. I swing around to face Paige again. “You can’t stay out here alone. Bishop might come back.”