of chagrined. “Oh,” Porter laughed. “Uh. Guess I slept through those.”
Brenda gave me a pointed stare. “It's ringing.”
Holding my breath, I bent low, trying to hear through the speaker. Each crackle of noise was a stab in my chest, my hope that Lola would pick up and interrupt the ringing ballooning by the second. At the sound of her voicemail, I bared my teeth and punched the wall. “Dammit!”
“Holy shit, calm down!” Colt said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Maybe she lost her phone. She could be at the tour bus, or even the venue. Right?”
Inhaling ‘til my ribs hurt, I strode out of the room. “We'll check there next.”
I had to move. I had to do something. If I didn't, I was going to explode.
No one else seemed to feel the way I did—this mounting sense of distress, that something was dangerously wrong. The last time Lola had gone missing, she'd been with Brenda. That had terrified me, but this...
This left me in ruin.
****
The tour buses had been moved. I spotted ours along the sidewalk in front of the Paramount Theater, orange cones dotting the street to block off other vehicles. People were crowding, taking photos or lining up early.
I slipped from the car as it came to a stop. On long legs, I hurried to the bus. My haste didn't prevent some people from crying out in delight, cameras flashing to get a memento of me.
Crowning the stairs, I looked over the inside of the vehicle.
No Lola.
“Drez,” Porter said, coming up behind me. I didn't speak, I just ran down the aisle, shoving aside the curtains of every room. Her bed was empty. What really hit home was seeing her guitar.
In the practice room, it sat alone—abandoned. It hadn't moved since yesterday, when she'd placed it there and fled the room.
Fled from me.
The back of my neck was sweltering. All eyes were on me when I turned, my manager and band mates watching me in the aisle. Their empathy—pity—was turning my stomach. “Don't look at me like that," I whispered.
Their unease was unanimous. “Drez,” Colt started, but Brenda waved her hand to silence him.
“The show is in...” She checked her phone, frowned. “Shit. Three hours.”
I lowered my chin. “Who the hell cares about the show? Lola is missing.” Something has happened to her. It was the only solution that made sense.
“Can I say something?” Colt raised his hand, a perfect school boy impression. “Uh, I sort of care about the show. Is it just me? Maybe? No?” Flicking his eyes at all of us, the drummer sighed. “This sucks. I can't believe Lola would run away.”
“She didn't run,” I spat.
Colt opened his mouth, then shut his jaw, considering me. “Let's look in the theater. If she's in there, problem solved. I honestly don't know what we'll do otherwise, but we should think of a fall back—hey!”
Shoving past him, I jumped down the stairs. The crowd was bigger now, faceless people screaming for me. I didn't care at all. I pushed through them, cutting a path until I could march into the theater.
It was huge inside, the lobby ceiling arching overhead. I didn't slow my pace until I was gazing on the stage, always scanning for that one pair of beautiful, perfect blue eyes.
Brenda and my band chased me down. “She isn't here,” I said, before they could ask. Turning, I gazed over their expressions, judging them. “Lola isn't here. She isn't fucking here!” My shoe jammed into a front row seat, the noise echoing around the auditorium. Security, lighting, assistants; they all stared at me.
“What should we do?” Porter asked softly, like I'd fly further into a rage.
“I'm thinking,” Brenda said. “We don't have much time. If she doesn't show up, you guys can't go on tonight.”
“This is bad. Do we call the cops?" Colt asked. "What if something happened to her?"
His words rang true with the fear that had been coming to life inside of me.
I felt myself floating away, my mind splitting as it imagined all the things that could have happened to Lola. Why was her room so destroyed? Why was she not answering anyone's phone calls? It isn't because of me. This is more than me.
“—replacement.”
My head jerked up, gawking at Brenda. “What was that?”
She was looking past me, off to the side of the stage where people were entering. There, a pair of blue eyes that sliced at me so fucking painfully. Sean Cooper was smiling, saying something to that big drummer of