chapter 17
A ccording to the bartender, Sarah got a drink and his phone number. But then she left and he didn’t see which way she went. Harlin and I had wandered out to the back lawn, but she wasn’t there, either. And now it’s time for dinner.
“She’ll show up,” Harlin says as he pulls out my chair for me. I look around nervously and he sits down. I’m not sure I can cover for Sarah at this point. Where the hell is she?
Immediately, I feel Sarah’s father’s eyes on me from the next table over. But I pretend not to notice him and make a show of saving the seat next to me, telling people loudly that she’s in the bathroom. Not super classy, but it’s all I can think of on the spot.
I check my phone all through the starter salad and give Harlin my roll because I’ve lost my appetite. I’m completely worried now. Sarah’s been gone for close to an hour.
As the appetizers arrive, I see her father toss his napkin down on the table and walk toward us. Harlin coughs and nudges me with his elbow, and my heart begins to race. I turn innocently to look behind me, and Sarah’s dad is standing there.
“Oh, hi, again!” I say. Lame.
“Where is my daughter?” he asks, not bothering with the niceties anymore. He folds his arms over his well-tailored jacket.
“She’s not back?” I ask, looking around.
He bends down over me. “Cut the nonsense, Charlotte. Go get her. Now.”
His voice demolishes me, making me feel small. I nod quickly and scramble up, nearly knocking over my water glass. I shoot a look at Harlin, who is glaring at her father, almost like he’s ready to fight.
“Harlin,” I say quietly. When he looks over at me, I shake my head. Harlin curls his lip like it’ll kill him to not punch the man, but then he turns and takes a shrimp from my cocktail.
“I’ll be right back,” I say to both of them and jog through the room, my heels clicking. When I get out into the lobby, I call her phone but she doesn’t answer, and I look toward the back door. I can’t return to the dinner without her.
The kitchen is buzzing as the servers plate up the entrees and I make my way through to the loading dock. I have no idea where else to look. I dial her again and then put the phone to my ear as I push out the exit. The minute the heavy metal door closes behind me, I hear the familiar sound of her ringtone—“Just A Girl” by No Doubt.
I don’t see her, but I follow the sound. I’m officially freaking out as I start to walk faster, suddenly afraid that she’s been hurt or kidnapped.
“Sarah?” I call out, walking around the Dumpster. Just then, I see her heel poking out from the other side. I run to her.
She’s lying there on her side, her red hair fanned out around her. There is an empty bottle of tequila near her hand and bunch of foamy puke next to her head. I kneel down and turn her face toward me.
“Sarah,” I say again, trying to wake her up. Her eyes flutter, but then she’s out again. Checking the bottle, I see that it’s empty and I wonder if she stole it from the bar.
She gags and turns her face out of my hand to puke next to me. Not much is coming out and she seems to choke on it. She’s barely coherent as she holds herself up, gagging.
“Did you drink this whole bottle?” I ask. She moans something but I can’t understand her. I dial Harlin. I have to take care of Sarah—get her out of here before her dad finds her. She needs a doctor.
Harlin laughs quietly when he answers. “Sorry, Charlotte. I’m in the middle of this really fancy dinner. Can I call you back?”
“I need you.”
“Where are you?” And I can hear his chair push away from the table and the sound of his breathing quickening as he hurries out of the banquet room. He is my hero.
“Through the kitchen toward the loading dock. Hurry. We need to get Sarah to the clinic.”
He hangs up, and I brush back Sarah’s hair now that she’s done puking. “Did you drink the entire bottle?” I ask again.
She smiles, her face blotchy, her eyes unfocused. “The whole damn thing,” she slurs. “Tell my father that.”
“You might have alcohol poisoning,” I say, even though she’s not listening. She’s drifting in and out. “You shouldn’t have done this,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have let you.”
Heat burns into my skin and I feel it begin. No. I force myself to stay near Sarah, but it’s hard. The Need is pulling me back into the party. It’s like it doesn’t care that Sarah needs my help now. Like my life and my loves don’t matter—just some higher purpose.
“Stop,” I tell myself. I won’t leave Sarah, not when she’s here like this. The Need has to wait. But as I resist the pull there is a tearing pain through my chest.
I fall to my knees, scraping them on the concrete. Oh God. Where’s Harlin? The metal door at the back of the building bursts open and slams into the bricks. Harlin jumps the stairs and he’s running to me, his dress shoes clacking on the pavement.
“Charlotte?” he yells. “What happened?” He takes me by the arms, helping me up. I collapse into him.
I won’t go with the Need. It can’t have me. I won’t let it! I grit my teeth and swallow down the pain. “Sarah,” I say. “She’s sick. We have to get her to Monroe.”
“Monroe?” he asks. “Charlotte, if something’s wrong with her, we should get her father and take her to a hospital. Not the clinic.”
“She’s drunk, Harlin. He’ll freak. Maybe even kick her out of her house.” I’m so worried about her and yet the Need is trying to take me away, take me back inside that party.
Harlin looks and sees Sarah curl up on the ground, dry heaving. He lets go of me and darts over to her, kneeling down next to her.
The minute he lets me go, I start wheezing. My body is demanding I go back into the museum, back into the dinner. There’s something there I have to see.
Harlin looks at me. “Are you having an attack?”
“I’ll be fine. I have an inhaler at the clinic.” No I don’t, but I’m hoping the farther away from the Need I get, the easier it’ll be to fight. I have to do it this time. I have to fight.
“Damn it, Charlotte!” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having an attack? Stop keeping things from me!” He scoops Sarah into his arms. Her body hangs limply. “Let’s go,” Harlin orders without looking at me, making his way around the side of the museum instead of going through the kitchen.
I try to step away, but pain splinters in my head, calling me back. It’s like walking against a current. Harlin runs ahead, carrying Sarah to the town car. I try to move faster, but my bones feel like they might pull away from my body, just rip right out of me.
Just as I round the front, it’s too much. I fall into the cool, damp grass, but get to my knees and begin crawling. I’m losing focus, getting fuzzy. But I choose Sarah—I choose my life—over the Need.
Harlin’s out of my sight, somewhere in the parking lot, and for a second I consider going inside just to stop the pain. It might not take long and the idea of euphoria I get after makes me moan for it.
No. If I do that, if I continue to give in, it’ll destroy me. I have to stop it now. There’s still time to stop it.
Gripping the grass with my fingers, I pull myself forward. I’m close to the sidewalk now. Just a few more yards. My chest is tightening.
I hear the sound of feet and look up in time to see Harlin running in my direction. He came back for me. There’s a small relief to my pain as I feel his strong arms wrap around me, helping me to stand.
“You need to go to the hospital,” he murmurs. “Monroe’s not helping you. You look terrible.”
“Thanks, honey,” I choke out. He exhales in exasperation and he leads me toward the waiting car.
“I had to give the driver fifty bucks to not call Daddy Warbucks in there,” he says as he opens the door. “So remind Sarah that she owes me.” But I can hear in his voice that he’s worried. About both of us.
I nod absently as I get in. Sarah is sprawled across the seat and I move her legs to sit next to her. The pain is so strong that tears are streaming down my cheeks.
This is it. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know it hurts like hell. I close my eyes as we pull away, driving toward the clinic. The minute we’re off the property there is a pain in my shoulder, like I’ve just been burned with a hot poker. I wince and glance toward Harlin. He’s leaning over the seat, giving the driver directions.
I take the moment to slip the sleeve of my jacket over to find the source of pain. It’s on fire. At first I see only gold, more than ever covering the skin. But at the high point of my bone, I see something different and it terrifies me. Because in place of the gold there is a cracked, gray circle. And it looks like death.