Addicted for Now (29 page)

“Types of liquor aren’t high on my priority list. But that’s
sweet of you, Ryke, to think I know everything in the world.”

“Absinthe,” I tell Connor. “It’s blue absinthe.” How could
he not know? If he doesn’t, then what’s the probability that Rose
does?

As soon as the words leave my mouth, Connor is on his feet,
and he can’t hide the concern on his face this time.

“You worried, Cobalt?” Ryke calls, but I can tell Connor’s
sudden ruffled composure is making Ryke equally alarmed. Because Daisy is the
other girl downing the liquor—and she doesn’t have a boyfriend here to look out
for her. But she does have me.

Even so, my eyes latch onto Lily more, hoping she doesn’t
join her sisters if she doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.
 

“Absinthe contains thujone,” Connor tells him.

“So you don’t know what it looks like, but you know what
chemicals are in it,” Ryke says.

“It’s usually green, and it’s also banned in the United
States because thujone has hallucinogenic properties.”

“Yeah,” I say, rising to grab his arm to stop him.
Rose has to know
, I keep telling myself.
She wouldn’t drink something foreign to
her. “I’m sure Rose knows what’s in it.”

His concern doesn’t waver. “The bottle isn’t labeled.”

What?
I look back
down to the girls, where Daisy is taking another shot of absinthe. The bottle
glows from the light underneath it, and sure enough—there’s no label on the
slender glass.

They don’t know it’s absinthe.

Shit.

{ 30 }

LILY CALLOWAY

Daisy steps forward for another shot, and she
stumbles a little. I do not want her to be sick tonight. I put my hand on her
shoulder and wave
no
to the server.
“We’re good here.”

Daisy doesn’t fight me on the decision. When the server
saunters away, I snatch Rose’s arm, and she
wobbles
in her four-inch heels.

My eyes bug.

I’ve only seen Rose break her stride once. Her heel caught
in a metal grate in New York, and she burned those shoes afterwards to rid
herself of bad joojoo. I think if Connor knew that she’s
truly
superstitious, he’d tease her for a solid century.

Melissa sidles next to me, and I must be giving off a
distressed look because she says, “Your sisters are sloshed.” Announcing the
obvious does not help.

The music changes into the theme song from Superman and it
totally disorients me. I whip around, and impersonators on the stage are now
dressed as various superheroes. Superman and Captain America stand on the tall
balcony, a spotlight shining on them.

People start trying to edge closer to the stage, and someone
bumps me from behind, almost losing my grip on Rose. “Watch it, buddy,” I snap
at him, but it really loses its effect when my focus is on the superheroes.
It’s my catnip.

The tempo starts to rise, and as the crescendo hits,
Superman and Captain America leap from the balcony and fly to the square bar
only feet from us.
 

Bullshit.

Cap cannot fly.

I’m so angry that they made Captain America have a
superpower he really doesn’t possess that I don’t see the incoming body from my
right. His arm rams my side so hard that I teeter, and Rose’s heels slide out
from under her. She completely falls, dragging me with her. We’re both on the
ground before I can make sense of anything else.

My bony hip digs into the hard concrete floor, and my skirt
soaks in sticky alcohol. I don’t even want to think about what else could exist
down here. I sit up and lose sight of Rose. Has she risen to her feet? But
that’s unlikely considering she could barely stand on her heels.

My heart thuds. “Rose!” I call. The bodies cage me in, and I
suddenly fear being stepped on and squashed like a little bug. But more than
that, I fear the same thing happening to my inebriated sister. Before I make a
move, two pairs of hands slide underneath my armpits and lift me right off the
ground like I weigh as much as a bag of apples.

It has to be a guy.

A guy is touching me.

Abort. Abort.
My mind
has flashing signs, picturing some flirtation on his part as soon as I turn
around. He helped me up, after all. I’m sure he’ll expect the damsel in
distress to kiss him for his chivalry.

I contemplate running off, but he spins me around and places
his hands on my cheeks. I jerk away on impulse.

“Lil.”

“Lo.” I take a breath of relief and willingly slide into his
arms, my heart practically beating out of my chest. When my thoughts realign, I
pull away quickly. “Where’s Rose?”

As soon as I say the words, confetti bursts from cannons,
blocking my vision and coating the floor in slick paper. I take a step and slip
again, Lo reaches out and catches me before I fall to the floor.

His arms are tucked behind my back, and the music pumps and
streamers fly. I feel like it’s midnight on New Year’s Eve. He stares deep into
my eyes, and he says, “Did you drink anything?”

I shake my head. I wouldn’t. Because then I wouldn’t be able
to do this. I lean forward and kiss him on the lips. He pulls me into his body
and lifts my back completely straight, swept up in the way our tongues dance
together. But I retract first.

Even though I love Lo, even though I’d like nothing more
than to kiss him—my sisters are lost somewhere. And I need to find them.

Lo sees the panic in my eyes again, and he gives me a look
like
I won’t let anything happen to them.
I believe him. Now, more than ever, I believe that he’s here for me.

He grabs my hand and leads me through the congested area
that’s teaming with bodies. “They’re really drunk,” I tell Lo over the music.

His cheekbones sharpen.

“What?” My pulse speeds. “What is it?”

He tugs me in front of him, his hands on my shoulders as we
move, and he lowers his head so that his lips brush my ear. “They were drinking
absinthe.”

What?! I don’t think the server mentioned what was in the
glowing bottles. Rose would never be crazy enough to drink absinthe, something
that’s too crazy for America.

On Halloween, Lo’s eighteenth birthday, we took a plane to
Amsterdam just to buy a bottle. He claimed he wanted to get drunk with a green
fairy, thinking he’d hallucinate. He ended up passing out within the hour,
leaving me to watch over him in our hotel room.

I go into sister-mode and walk faster, my eyes open and
alert for any signs of my effervescent blonde sister and my fashionable
brunette one.

We find Rose first.

By a high table littered with empty cups and bottles, Connor
holds her tight around the waist while she presses two firm hands on his
shoulders, unsteady in her heels. He whispers in her ear, probably trying to
convince her to take them off.

But a tiger would birth a baby lama sooner than Rose would
be barefoot in a dirty club.

We approach them, and I hold onto Lo like a kid clutching
the wall in a skating rink. “Is she okay?” I ask.

“I’m just fine, thank you,” Rose says. “But we need to
contact the staff and have this mess cleaned up. The floor is filthy.” She
motions to the floor that’s covered in sticky liquor and now little strips of
confetti. Her nose crinkles at the table nearest her. The staff already starts
sweeping streamers so that people don’t slip. “Ah, right on time.” She sways
with a loopy smile, and then she stumbles without even taking a step. Connor
rights her back up.

Lo can’t stop grinning.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“For once, that’s not me.”

I can’t help but smile too.

“Don’t…patronize me, Loren!” Rose points her finger at him.
“I’m calling my lawyers. Have you arrested for…” She hiccups. “…public
indecency.”

“I’m pretty decent right now, actually,” Lo says, still
smirking.

“How about we call it an early night?” Connor asks, his
hands firmly on her hips. She doesn’t even seem to care. In fact, she leans
back into him. This is probably the closest they’ve ever been, and yet it looks
so natural.

“Yes, we have to tuck you into bed,” she tells him.

“No, darling, I’ll be tucking you into bed.”

She lets out a puff of air. “I’m perfectly fine. Look.” She
holds out one hand and it shakes like she’s on crack. “Steady as rock.”

Connor looks to us. “I’m taking her to the car.”

“Connor Cobalt,” Rose says with a cluck of her tongue. “Is
that a made up name?”

He sweeps his arm underneath her back and then, in one
motion, lifts her effortlessly into his arms.

She plants her hand onto his chest, her eyes going wide. “Whoa.
We need to tell the manager to slow down the carousel.”

His lips rise as she swings her legs and inspects the style
of his buttons. I watch him carry her through the exit, just to make sure she’s
safely out.

When she leaves, I spin around again, scanning all the
girls, but none are blonde or tall enough to be my youngest sister. “Where’s
Daisy?” I ask Lo. The last time I remember seeing her was before the
superheroes took to the stage and hypnotized me.

He searches the club with a narrowed gaze. “I don’t see
her.”

I spot Ryke by the bar, discussing something with Melissa.

And this one time, I do wish Melissa wasn’t here to distract
Ryke from Daisy. Because he would have kept an eye on my sister during that
confetti madness and the rush of people pushing to the stage. But instead, he
was busy placating his somewhat-girlfriend. Just like we told him to.

This is our fault.

I am frantic with horrible feelings. I push my way ahead to
Ryke, and Lo braces me with a hand on my waist so I don’t slip again.
 

“Hey,” Ryke says, turning to us when we arrive. His eyes
flit around us really quickly. “Where’s Daisy?”

“We were going to ask if you saw her,” I say, more
frightened now. He didn’t even go looking for Daisy as soon as he came down
from the balcony. That would be a Ryke thing to do. Did we really scare him off
that much? I bite my nails. We made a person who is so
deeply
caring become uncaring. How is that possible?! I am freaking
out. Just a little. “I thought that you would know where she was.” My high-pitched
voice causes his face to break.

And then he turns his attention to Lo. “You said you were
going to get Daisy.”

Lo rubs the back of his head. “Lil fell on the ground.
Everything was crazy…”

“
Fuck
,” Ryke
curses, the word harsh on his lips. His muscles tighten.

Lo keeps rubbing his neck in anxiety.

“It’s okay,” I tell Lo before he’s assaulted by guilt. “No
one is to blame.” We’ll find her. Hopefully.

He nods.

And before we can go search for Daisy, Melissa chimes in,
her expression sour. “She’s probably running around here somewhere. I’m sure
you and Lo can find her yourselves.”

No, we need Ryke. Lo will be worried about me falling on my
ass so much that his attention will be split. I need someone who’s focused
solely on finding her. And I’m too short to see much of anything in the crowd.

“Come on,” Melissa says, tugging Ryke towards the stage to
dance.

He scowls darkly. “If you’re not going to help, you can go
to the car.”

Melissa drops her hands. “Are you serious?”

“I’m not leaving a sixteen-year-old drunk girl in a fucking
club!” he shouts at her like she’s not listening.

“They can take care of her! She’s not your sister or your
responsibility, Ryke!”

“You don’t know me,” he sneers. “You don’t fucking get it.”

She steps into his face. “I didn’t come here to babysit!”

“Then leave!”

“
Fuck you
,” she
snarls. Then she storms off, pushing through the mass of people with ease.

My heart is about to spring from my chest with every second
we lose. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Ryke looks between Lo and me. “If I help, this is
it. You two can’t be hounding me about her anymore. You can’t have it both
fucking ways. I’m either ignoring her or I’m her friend. That’s it.”

“You’re her friend!” I exclaim, practically throwing my
hands up in the air. I don’t want to waste any more time. “Okay, let’s go,
please!”

Ryke doesn’t move. His eyes pin to Lo, waiting for his
answer. I am tossing daggers into his eyes. I don’t have time for this. Daisy
may not have time for this. I picture her drunk in the bathroom being gang
raped by other people high on the green (or in this case blue) fairy. I
shouldn’t have lost her. I should have kept her tethered to my arm.

“Lo!” I yell.

“Fine,” he says. “Fine.”

Ryke revives like someone struck him with a hot torch. He
moves faster than I could have ever imagined. He slams bodies out of his way,
on a mission from hell.
Thank you, thank
you, thank you
, I chant each time he makes a new path for us.

“Don’t let go of my hand!” Lo shouts over the music, his
fingers intertwined in mine.

We wind through the people, following Ryke to the bathrooms
where a long line swerves. He walks towards the men’s bathroom and ignores the
angry stares as he passes the line.

“Hey!” a guy shouts. “I’ve been waiting for fifteen
minutes!”

Ryke glares. “I’m not pissing; I’m looking for someone.” He
reaches the door, and the guy grabs him by the arm. Ryke literally throws his
body weight at him, just to push him off. The guy topples backwards, giving
Ryke enough time to open the door and disappear inside.

“I’m going to look in the girl’s bathroom,” I tell Lo,
leaving him in the hallway. The girls stare with hot anger, their lips
upturning snidely. My explanation blows over just about as easily as Ryke’s,
but no one physically assaults me.

When I make it inside, the line extends here, the girls
crammed in a row, waiting for an open stall. “Daisy!” I shout, checking each
face.
No, no, no.
I peek beneath the
stalls, searching for her gold sandals.

Red heels.

Black flats.

Sparkly platforms.

No, no, no.

I run back outside at the same time that Ryke exits the
bathroom—without Daisy on his arm. He doesn’t hesitate or stop. He guides us to
a long narrow hallway that appears reserved for staff.
 

“We should check outside,” Lo tells him. “She may have found
the exit.”

“I want to be sure she’s not here,” Ryke says.

A door ends the hallway. And it’s literally marked
employees only
. Lo grabs Ryke’s arm
before he rushes inside.

“We’re going to be thrown out of the club, and then we’re
never going to find her.”

I pale.

And they both look down at me. I realize I squeaked, a
petrified sound escaping.

“You two stay out here then,” Ryke says. “I’ll go in. If
someone throws me out, then you run down the fucking hallway and disappear in
the crowd.”

“Fine.” But I hear Lo mutter, “I’m going to have to bail my
brother out of Mexican jail.”

Ryke turns the knob, and he peeks inside a little. His chest
rises in a strong inhale, and he motions for us to come inside with him.

We trust Ryke enough to listen, heading through the doorway.
And then we stop.

The door clicks shut behind us.

We must be in some sort of break room. Red couches fill the
large space, a television and pinball machine on one side. Graffiti—or really nauseating
neon-colored artwork—is sprayed on the walls.