There’s a link attached to an extreme paintball park north of Miami.
My stomach tightens. I love paintball. Jared and I used to go all the time, usually dragging Lina and Nicki along. I even have my own camouflage outfit and a semiautomatic paintball gun.
I click on the link to read about the establishment—family-owned and operated for twenty-five years. That’s always a plus. It means they know how to run things and they’ll have enough referees. It’s a huge field north of the city, with a wooded area. I much prefer those to the inner-city ones, where you’re crammed into a warehouse building. This also means that there will probably be a lot of players. With all the protective gear and masks on, it’s hard to identify a person . . .
I can’t go alone. I mean, I’m not above crazy, but that’s a little bit too much. No, I need to go with my people. I quickly text Lina and Nicki:
Paintball. Tomorrow. Nine a.m. You bitches are with me, right?
I’m not going to tell them why. It doesn’t matter. We’ll have fun either way.
Nicki responds immediately with a simple “in.” Lina takes a few minutes longer, even though I know she has read it.
In, as long as I can bring the guy I’m seeing.
After I agree to that, because I really don’t care who she brings as long as I have a chance to nail Caroline in the head with a splatter of red paint, we figure out logistics and sign off of our group chat. I lie back in my bed and sigh.
Shit.
I forgot about Ben. By the time we get out there and back, shower, eat, and all that . . . I’m not going to want sit in an office all freaking afternoon.
I scroll to find Ben’s number, thankful that we exchanged contact information before heading our separate ways today:
Sorry, can’t help you tomorrow. Something came up.
And then I shut my phone off.
Chapter 10
BEN
“Something came up”? What the fuck does that mean! No way am I letting her ditch me. We got so much accomplished today.
Hell no.
I’m lying in bed as I quickly type out:
You can’t bail. You still owe me for today and I need your help.
No response. She hasn’t even received it. She must have shut her phone off. Scanning my contacts, I dial Mason. He picks up on the second ring.
“Go tell Reese to check her damn phone,” I demand, a rare hint of irritation in my voice.
“Uh . . .” I picture him fiddling with his glasses. “I’m not at home at the moment.”
“Shit,” I mutter to myself. “Where are you? The library?” Mason’s a predictable guy. It’s either Warner, home, or the library.
“Why do you need Reese?”
“Just . . . she’s supposed to help me at the office tomorrow and she’s trying to ditch me.”
A hiss sounds into the receiver, followed by a low female giggle in the background, making me double-check the display to make sure I actually dialed Mason Warner. I did.
This can’t be right. I recognize a sated female giggle when I hear one. “Dude, are you getting laid?”
With a heavy throat clearing, he says, “I don’t know where she is right now but I know where she’ll be tomorrow.”
“All right, lay it on me.”
“I’m sending a link through now. Meet us there at ten.”