The Happy Ever After Playlist - Abby Jimenez Page 0,102
closed and Tucker pulled at his leash back toward the room the whole way to the elevator as I dragged my luggage behind me, gasping.
I burst from the smoky casino and walked vaguely in the direction that I’d come in my Uber from the airport. When I felt like my lungs couldn’t give me the air I needed to continue, I stopped at a closed cafe on the strip and sat at one of their dirty patio tables. I blocked everyone. Zane, Jessa, Ernie—Jason. I didn’t want anyone trying to talk me out of what I knew I’d seen—or telling me more. I knew enough.
Then I sobbed into the phone to Kristen.
She told me to come stay with her. She said Josh was going to murder him. She told me to get off the streets of Vegas at 1:00 in the morning and that I was too good for him and I deserved better.
I didn’t want better. I wanted him.
I was alone, homeless, and devastated. And now I was adrift again, waves crashing over me, water filling my mouth.
Chapter 40
Jason
♪ About Today | The National
I woke up like I was coming out of a coma. Layers of unconsciousness peeled themselves back, one at a time.
I probably shouldn’t have taken that Ambien with bourbon, but I’d already had one glass when Zane showed up with the pills. I’d needed a drink after three Red Bulls and the conversation with Sloan, and frankly I’d forgotten I’d promised to take the damn thing.
I looked between the two glasses on my nightstand for the one that had water and not whiskey in it and gulped it down. Then I felt around groggily for the hotel phone and dialed Sloan, rolling away from the window and the blinding light coming in from the crack in the curtain.
It went straight to voicemail.
Man, that Ambien was no joke. I’d been knocked out without even getting under the damn covers. I didn’t even remember getting undressed. Hell, I didn’t even remember getting on the bed.
The wireless hotel phone rang in my hand. I rubbed my eyes and hit the Answer button. “What’s up?”
“Have you talked to Sloan?” It was Zane.
I scratched my beard. “Not today. Why?”
“I’m on my way up, open your door. Sloan showed up last night and Lola was in your room.”
I bolted up straight. “What?!”
“It’s not good news. I’ll be there in a second.”
I leapt off the bed and jumped into pants.
Zane pounded from the outside and I ran to let her in. She barged in talking. “I was at the breakfast buffet and Courtney told me. Lola came down last night. She was in Jessa’s room, and Sloan was knocking on your door. You must have left the adjoining door between your rooms unlocked because Lola came in and answered it.”
She grabbed the knob and sure enough, the door on my side creaked open into the room.
Fuck, I could have done anything last night and not remembered it. I was half-drugged on sleeping pills and whiskey.
I dove for the phone and dialed Sloan again and it went to voicemail. Mailbox full.
I moved to the connecting door between our rooms and pounded on Jessa’s inner door. “Jessa! Open up!”
She opened it, still half-asleep. I could see Lola passed out on the bed behind her. She was wearing nothing but one of my merch sweatshirts and underwear. Jesus Christ, was this what Sloan had come home to?
“Did you let Lola in my fucking room last night?” I asked.
Jessa pushed the side of her pink hair up and yawned. “Yeah. Some crazy bitch was banging on your door at one in the morning.”
“That crazy bitch was Sloan. What the fuck were you thinking?”
Jessa’s eyes went wide. “It was Sloa— Oh, shit. I…dude, it was loud. We thought it was an emergency. Lola tried waking you up first, but you were knocked out. She kicked your bed and everything.”
I didn’t let her finish. I slammed the door in her face.
“Shit!” I paced. “I have to find her. We had a fight, we weren’t okay.”
Zane was calm. “Any idea where she might have gone? Any family in Vegas? Friends?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Panic descended on me like black flies, swarming.
I ran all over the room, tripping over my shoes, putting on a shirt and socks, holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder, calling her voicemail uselessly. She had to be out of her mind. Fuck, what would I think if I’d seen that?