Chapter Five

SHAY

"I had a really great time with you last night," Brad announced from the side of my bed as he tugged on his jeans.

At least, I think his name was Brad.

Possibly Brian.

I wasn't sure if the tequila shots had made my memory a little foggy or if it was just that Brad/Brian had been extremely unmemorable.

"We should do it again sometime," he continued with a grin before pulling on the beige-colored sweater I swore had screamed cute as hell last night, but this morning was clearly giving rich kid spending daddy's money.

I pressed my lips together into a forced smile and nodded my head. "Yeah, sure, absolutely," I tried to agree with some enthusiasm, though there was no chance I was winning any awards for my acting. I quickly leaped from my bed and rummaged through the clothing pile in the corner of my room, pulling an oversized hoodie from its depths and slipping it on over my practically naked body. "Sorry, I've got a really busy day today," I tried to explain as I rushed over to the bedroom door and pulled it open, stepping to the side, hoping he would get the memo.

The smell of coffee wafted down the hall and hit my nose. It cut through the fog swirling inside my head, making me even more desperate to get this man out of the house so I could drown myself in a cup. "Oh, I totally get it," he agreed, stepping out into the hall. "I've got to head—"

He paused, his eyes growing wide and his mouth dropping open as he stared down the short hall toward the kitchen.

"I've gotta… I need to…" he stammered, stumbling backward.

Cautiously, I stepped out, following his horrified gaze.

The tension instantly dropped out of my shoulders when I saw exactly what—or should I say who—had caused him to freak the hell out.

With a heavy sigh, I turned back to Brad/Brian, who was still inching backward. "It's fine, that's just—"

He hit the apartment door with a loud thud, his hand searching frantically for the handle. "I'll um… I'll call you." He finally managed to turn the knob and almost ripped the door off its hinges as he yanked it open and, without another word, scarpered into the hall and disappeared.

That was one way to get rid of unwanted overstayers.

Rolling my eyes, I pushed the door closed and flicked the lock over before sucking in a deep breath and turning to face the scrutinizing gaze that was burning holes into the back of my skull. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" I asked dryly as I walked down the hall. Calli's and my bedrooms and bathrooms were on either side of the apartment entrance, while at the other end was an open-plan kitchen, dining, and lounge room.

"Boyfriend?" Bishop questioned, casually sipping from the mug in his hand as if he wasn't sitting at the kitchen island of an apartment he didn't live in.

"No," I answered sharply, avoiding eye contact and hoping he wouldn't notice how my cheeks were alight with embarrassment as I rounded the kitchen counter and pulled a mug from the cupboard. "Definitely not my boyfriend."

"That's good. The way he ran out of here without even bothering to check you fucking knew who the hell I was tells me everything I need to know about the selfish bastard."

I poured myself a coffee, adding a heavy dose of creamer. "Selfish is exactly the word I would have used," I commented under my breath, finally remembering a little about the previous night. When I turned around, I was met with a hard stare, making me freeze. "I mean… what are you doing here so early?"

He placed his mug down on the counter and rolled his shoulders back. "Haven't been home yet. Thought I'd stop in and see if you two wanted a ride since I know Calli probably drank far too fucking much last night to drive anywhere."

He was right. Again.

Honestly, I imagine it was pretty hard to get anything past Bishop, which, given the stories I'd heard Calli tell me about her teenage years, made me a little suspicious, but not of Calli. I'm sure she did sneak out and go to parties like she said, but I was pretty sure Bishop wasn't as clueless about it as she seemed to think he was.

"You haven't been home yet?" I laughed softly. "Sounds like you shouldn't be the one offering to drive anywhere today."

He shook his head. "Wasn't out partying… we were looking for someone." Curious, I pressed my lips together, not wanting to overstep, which must have been obvious because he reached into his jeans back pocket and pulled out a couple of pieces of paper, sliding them across the kitchen island.

Pushing my coffee to the side, I leaned in closer, smiling at the image on the top. "That's cute," I commented, studying the picture of a teen girl with a man I assumed to be her dad. She was probably thirteen or fourteen years old, and they were both dressed in black suit jackets with white button-up shirts, black ties, and dark glasses. Their backs were pressed together as they posed with what looked like water guns. "They're dressed as Men in Black for Halloween."

Bishop picked up the photo and moved it to the side, revealing the picture underneath.

I gasped. "Oh my God." It was the same girl, but she was lying in a hospital bed, covered in bruises, and looking about twenty pounds lighter, which made her hip bones protrude and her cheeks pull in. I looked up at Bishop with a heavy frown, shaking my head. "Who… what…"

"Mm," he hummed, his eyes still focused on the picture. "She's missing, and her dad came to the bar after you girls left last night and asked the club to find her."

"What happened to her?" I asked, though I was sure I already knew the answer. Even after the past few years I'd been in nursing, it still hit hard to see addicts come in because I had been so close to ending up looking exactly like this—starving myself because I was buying drugs instead of food, possibly even selling my body to pay for them.

My addiction to oxy could have just been the start. What if my body had gotten used to it? What if I'd started to need something harder, stronger, more potent?

The day I watched Ali get locked up because of me changed everything. It stopped me in my tracks because Ali was the only one I had, and suddenly, I had no one.

It forced me to ask for help. And thankfully, there'd been someone there to hear me.

I was one of the lucky ones, but when I got stressed or overwhelmed, I still heard that little voice in the back of my head screaming at me for relief.

Only now, the voices screaming at me to succeed were just a little louder.

And I hoped like hell they stayed that way.

"From what it sounds like, someone is pimping her out," he growled between clenched teeth. "Spent all last night cruising the streets, asking around. No one wants to talk, though, so it must be someone important."

I looked back at the photo, letting out a heavy sigh. Something caught my eye, and I leaned in, studying the tattoo on her hip. It was a heart with a little banner through it that read Mom. It was cliché and heart-wrenching at the same time.

"I hope you find her," I said quietly, looking up and meeting his eyes. Their unreal smoky-gray color never failed to have me losing my train of thought. Some days, they were storm clouds rolling in, and other days, they were more metallic, like silver. I was pretty sure they changed with his mood, and it had become somewhat of a game I played every time I saw him, giving the color of the day a name.

That day, they were charcoal.

Dark. Dangerous. Sexy.

Oh dear.

I cleared my throat, picked up my mug from the counter, and took a drink. "Calli should be up in a minute. She had her alarm set for nine o'clock so she could make it to your place by ten."

He grabbed the pictures off the counter and tucked them into his cut. "You aren't coming to the party?"

"I'll be there later. My brother called yesterday. Apparently, he's in Detroit and needs to see me," I explained, rolling my eyes. "I love him, but he has a tendency only to call when he needs something, so that should be fun. Hopefully, it won't take long, and I'll make it for lunch."

Calli was flying out to New York the next day, giving her a few days to settle in before she started her internship on Monday morning. I already knew there would be plenty of tears as I watched her get on that damn plane, but I kept reminding myself it was only for a few months.

I'd be fine. I was sure. Or at least, I was determined to be.

I glanced across the room at the clock, which read 8:54a.m., and quickly tossed the last of my coffee into the sink. "I better get ready. I've got like two buses to catch to get across town, and I'm already too tired for that shit. We didn't get in until two in the morning."

Bishop scoffed and muttered under his breath, "Two in the morning."

I raised my brows and smiled. "What was that?"

"When I was your age—"

I held up my hand, stopping him. "I'm not even going to touch that comment, simply out of respect."

"Respect for what?"

I backed down the hallway with a grin. "My elders."

"Girl," he growled, getting up off the barstool, but I flashed him a bright smile.

"Gotta go. See you later," I called, ducking into my bedroom and slamming the door behind me. My heart was racing, pounding excitedly as I giggled to myself and pressed my back against the door. Part of me hoped he didn't decide to come after me for that comment, and another part that had recently grown a lot bigger, wondered what might happen if he did.

That was the part of me that was going to hell.

And honestly, I was starting to wonder if I should just embrace the flames.