“To the former, I have no idea,” he says. “To the latter, she went running out of here a few hours ago. Said she had to get back to somebody named Gabby. I don't know what you did to that girl, but she looked like she was on the verge of pissing herself.”
I shake my head, trying to clear out the cobwebs, but I'm not having much luck. My head remains foggier than a San Francisco morning. I have absolutely no idea why Holly would run out like that. As far as I know, everything between us went well last night. In fact, as best I recall, we had a great night where we really bonded and connected. I really thought that something was starting to bloom between us.
“I know we went to a sex club last night,” I say. “We had a great time. After the club though, things aren’t exactly clear.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured,” Trey laughs. “And it sounded like you had a great time.”
“What do you mean?”
“You two came stumbling in here around three this morning,” he says. “Singing your asses off, throwing rice around, calling each other hubby and wifey. You guys were acting like you had gotten married or something.”
I lean back against the headboard, scrubbing my face with my hands. And as I do, I feel something cold on my cheek, and catch sight of the sun glinting off my ring finger. More specifically, off the band on my finger. The moment I see it, my blood runs cold and my heart just about stops in my chest.
I never wear rings.
I hold my hand out and look at it, feeling my eyes grow wide. I look up at Trey who's looking back at me, a dumbfounded expression on his face, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.
“Is that what I think it is?” Trey asks.
It's a plain gold band. A man's wedding band.
“Shit,” I whisper. “Where's my phone?”
I jump out of bed and race around the room, digging through clothing until I find my phone. Snapping it up, I unlock it and scroll to pictures and videos. And when I see what's on my phone, I feel my stomach turn. Dropping my phone on the bed, I turn and race into the bathroom, dropping to my knees and emptying all the contents of my stomach straight into the toilet – and then continue to dry heave for a few more minutes.
Finally, when there is nothing left for me to retch up, I get on my feet, still feeling nauseous. I stick my head under cold water in the tub for several minutes and brush my teeth. When that's all done, I dry my face off and head out into the bedroom again.
“Yeah, that wasn't disgusting at all or anything,” Trey cracks.
“Shove it,” I say.
I pick up the phone again and call up the video, then hit play. Trey crowds next to me to watch, barely able to suppress his outright howls of laughter as a morbidly obese man, dressed in a tight Elvis suit, marries Holly and me. The moment after I kiss the bride, the song Endless Love starts to play, and a drag queen dressed as Dolly Parton and a midget in a dark suit appear, throwing rice and popping confetti guns at us.
Holly and I turn and come back down the aisle with goofy, drunken smiles on our faces. We kiss once more before my phone is handed back to me and the video cuts off. I groan miserably and shake my head.
“It was a beautiful ceremony,” Trey says.
“Eat me.”
The phone rings in my hand and I look at the caller ID. Liam. My big brother. I pick up the call and put the phone to my ear.
“Hey, brother,” I say. “How's the Pacific North –”
“I got the most interesting text message from you last night,” he snaps, cutting me off.
I groan and cringe inwardly, having absolutely no idea what I sent him. “You did, huh?”
“Oh yeah,” he says. “You, a gorgeous redhead, and the fattest Elvis I've ever seen.”
“Yeah, I'm not remembering last night too clearly.”
“I would imagine not,” he says. “You barely look sober enough to stand.”
“I'm not sure I'm sober enough to stand right now.”
“Please tell me you didn't actually get married,” he says.
“Brother, I don't know what I did or didn't do last night.”
“Damn it, Brayden,” he says, though his voice carries a hint of amusement.
“Yeah, I'm still trying to piece together what happened last night,” I say. “Just give me some time and I'll get back to you.”
“Yeah, do that,” he says. “Get back to me as soon as you can.”
“Will do, big brother.”
I disconnect the call, dropping my phone on the bed again. My mind is moving slowly, and I'm having a hard time trying to figure out what I should do first.
“Shower,” Trey says, obviously intuiting my delayed reaction. “Go take a shower. You smell like an open sewer drain.”
I nod. “Shower. Right,” I say. “After that, we need to find Holly.”
“After that, you need to get something in your belly,” he says. “And then we find Holly.”
I look at him as a thought suddenly occurs to me. “Where's your new girl?” I ask.
“She had to fly home this morning,” he says. “But, she lives in Dallas, so we'll be seeing each other again soon.”
I nod. “Good for you, man.”
“Who knows, maybe we'll even get bold enough to find a fat Elvis of our own to marry us.”
He laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard as I give him the finger and shuffle off to the bathroom. He's right. Shower first. Maybe a shower will help me gather my thoughts. And I need to be thinking clearly because I have to talk to Holly. And when I see her, I need to have my wits about me, so we can figure out what we're going to do.
Jesus Christ, what in the hell have we done?
Chapter Eighteen
Michael
Sitting in my office, I pick up my cell phone and punch the buttons to dial Holly's number. Again. I've been trying for days and haven't gotten the courtesy of a single call or text message in response. All I've gotten from my ungrateful daughter is radio silence.
I press the phone to my ear and listen to the line ring once, forwarding almost immediately to voicemail.
“Goddammit,” I growl.
I disconnect the call and immediately call back. Same result.
I slam my fist down on the desk, rattling everything sitting on top of it. This time, I wait for the beep, so I can leave a message.
“Holly, this is your father. Again,” I snarl. “I'm starting to get really pissed off. Call me back the instant you get this message, young lady. We have a lot to talk about.”
I hang up and think about calling back a third time but decide against it, dropping the phone back onto my desk instead. Still, I'm anxious, frustrated, and entirely pissed off. Snatching the phone back up off the desk, I key in yet another text message to my daughter.
You can't hide from me forever. Call me back ASAP, Holly. I'm not screwing around.
Knowing I'm entirely powerless to do anything but wait, I drop the phone again and run my hands through my hair. Still not satisfied, I pick up a manual from the desk and hurl it across the room, watching it smash into the wall and clatter to the floor.
A display of impotent rage, yeah, but a way to burn off some angry energy anyway.
I lean forward and bury my face in my hands, feeling my stomach churning. Every day that goes by – hell, every minute that goes by – that I haven't delivered on my promise to Trujillo is a moment closer to death I know that he's not a person to screw with. He’s the type of man who expects you to deliver on your promises. The memory of the man, Trujillo’s own nephew, that he had executed right in front of me, floats through my mind, further emphasizing that point.
Yeah, as if I needed the point to be underscored for me.
Not looking up, I hear the familiar creak of my office door as it swings opens. Probably my secretary Marcia coming to check on me after hearing the manual crash against the wall.
“I'm fine, Marcia,” I say. “Please, I'm not to be disturbed right now. No calls, no meetings, nothing.”
“Oh, I think you can make time for me.”
I snap my head up quickly and see Trujillo standing there with a smug look on his face. Marcia's standing behind him, her eyes wide, trembling. She looks absolutely terrified.
“I tried to stop him, Mr. Gallagher, he doesn't have an appointment, but he –”