“She’s in.” Eve spins me toward my shower. “Now go get cleaned up, and then we’ll help you pick out something to wear. Lord knows there’s plenty to choose from.”
“Thanks, guys.” I leave Eve at my bathroom door, shutting it enough for privacy but leaving it cracked so we can talk. I flip on the hot water and strip down. “Where are we going anyway? I heard there’s a fun wine bar at The Cosmopolitan.”
“Oh, um… we thought we’d go somewhere a little more relaxed,” Raven hollers from my bedroom.
Relaxed sounds good.
“Just tell her,” Eve says loud enough for me to hear.
That doesn’t sound good.
I wrap a towel around my naked body and stomp into my room. Both girls are standing just a foot away from each other, locked in a heated whispered discussion.
“Tell me what?” I cock a hip and wait.
“Huh?” Raven tries to act clueless, but it doesn’t work.
“You should know that having a teenage daughter kinda makes me an expert lie detector.” I swing my scowl from one fibber to the other. “Where are we going?”
Raven clears her throat. “It’s a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
Eve steps up to me and grins. “We’re going to The Blackout. It’s Battle of the Bands.”
“No, no way. I’m not going. I can’t go.” I spin on my heel and walk back to the bathroom to put on my clothes.
They follow me in. “Layla—”
“I’m not ready.” I shake my head. “I can’t do it.”
“He’s not going to be there. I had Jonah check. It’s his brother’s last night in town, and he’s taking him gambling,” Raven says.
“How do you know they won’t stop by? I’ll be a nervous mess all night wondering if he’s going to walk through the door.” I grip my towel tighter to keep from losing it.
“He won’t.” Raven’s expression turns sad.
“You don’t know that.”
She and Eve exchange a look. “I do know that. He’s taking some time off. Not just from fighting, but from everything. He told Jonah he needs a few weeks to be alone.”
“Oh.” Of course he is. He’s mourning the loss of his career and his reputation. Even the most loyal fans have reason to doubt Blake. Athletes rarely make a full recovery after a steroids scandal.
It’s all my fault. If he’d never met me, if I’d stayed in Seattle… I pinch my eyes closed and push back the searing thought.
Suddenly, getting as drunk as possible sounds pretty good. The burn of alcohol should deaden the ache in my chest. I’ll let Raven and Eve dress me up and drag me anywhere they want. As long as there’s a bottle to help me forget. Even for only one night.
I look back and forth between the concerned eyes of my friends. “Okay, give me fifteen minutes.” My voice sounds how I feel. Distant and robotic.
They nod and leave me to my shower. Guilt invades with vengeance, coaxing bitter tears to slide in silence. My hot tears dissolve into the steamy spray as if they never existed. If only I could do the same with the past.
*
“Layla, you might want to slow down,” Raven yells to me over the pounding music.
I throw back another shot called a Fireball, something that Mac told me is nothing more than cinnamon-flavored whiskey. Whatever it is, it’s damn delicious and burns all the way down to my stomach. “I’m good.” I bob my head along with the metal guitar sound of a band called Zombie Diet as they play their last song.
We’ve heard three bands so far, and they’re getting better and better as the night progresses. Of course, that may have something to do with the Fireballs.
The music stops, and the crowd blares an ear-piercing roar of applause. I shove my fingers into my mouth to whistle, but end up blowing out a silent spray of cinnamon-scented drool. I’m giggling to myself when I notice Raven whispering something to Eve from the corner of my eye. It doesn’t take a sober person to guess what she’s saying.
Yes, I’m drunk.
No, I don’t care.
And yes, it’s because I’m fucking heartsick.
I don’t have the energy to defend myself, so I continue to rock out in my own little world of self-pity and booze. Woo-hoo.
The Blackout is packed. Even if Blake did make an appearance, he’d be hard to find in this crowd. But that doesn’t mean I don’t see him everywhere I look. His memory hangs all over this place. From the table I was sitting at when we argued over Metallica, to the wall where he pinned a girl and kissed her so passionately that I felt it from across the room. My chest convulses. Nope, still not numb.
“Mac. One more, please. Er… make it two.” I leave my two fingers up and point with my other hand to my empty glass.
Eve shoves a huge glass filled with clear liquid and ice cubes, into my hand. “Here, drink this.”
I hold it up to my nose and sniff. “What is it?”
“Water. Drink it.”
Eww. I grimace and hand it back, making water slosh over the lip. Oops. “No thanks.”
“You’re going to barf, or pass out, or both. Just drink it.” Eve’s tone is parental and bossy.