Page 113 of Shattered Veil

Zoey’s focus snapped to my cell.

“Yes, hello, hi.” He replied in what I’ve learned is his usual sarcastic tone, but it carried an apparent angst. “Are we past the pleasantries?” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “Cool. We need to talk. Are ya free?”

His obvious urgency woke me from my despondence. “If you know anything about James, then yes.”

“James?” he questioned. “What am I supposed to know about James?”

He sounded altogether confused at the mention of his name, and my stomach dropped even further.

“God dammit, Colton!” I hissed. “And I thought for a single second that you’d be a lifeline—”

Colton pressed again, “What am I supposed to know about James?”

“He’s. Fucking. Missing!” I yelled. “That’s what!”

“What?!” He returned my alarmed decibel. “The fuck do you mean he’s missing?”

“I mean that I cannot find him,” I retorted. “What the hell do you think I mean?”

“Jesus—this isn’t productive,” Zoey interjected. “Hi, Colt. Long story short, Cas had reasons to believe Jay wasn’t at work even though he had texted saying he was. And he’s not at work. We checked. Found his car on the side of the road—no crash, no nothing, just pulled over.”

“Oh,” he replied. “Fuck.” Colton hesitated for a moment, and then slowly asked, “I…take it that you haven’t been to your previous place of employment to pick up your check?”

I bit back, “Does it sound like that’s on the forefront of my mind?”

“No,” he quickly responded in a high pitch. “Nope. Not at all, but, ah, coincidentally, I was there this morning,” he quickly explained, “less crowds, easier to talk, yadda yadda—and get this…it’s a goddamn ghost town.”

I blinked several times over. “What?”

“Apparently, there’s been somewhat of an exodus.”

Zoey and I glanced at each other with wide eyes, and I inquired, “What kind of exodus?”

“Er—of the mass variety?” He rephrased with purpose, “A mass. Fucking. Exodus.”

“Okay, um—wait,” I spoke, “what do you mean?”

“I mean that if ya think the place was understaffed before—which, we both know that it was—then you should see it now. Like I said. Ghosty.” He clarified, “Talked with some staff there—casual shit, right? Dancers are flying out the door since this past weekend…not disappearing—quitting.” Colton waited for a beat that held a substantial purpose. “I don’t…I don’t want to say this is related to Jay, but—”

Zoey interjected, “Why do you think shit from Cassie’s work would be related to Jay?” She narrowed her eyes skeptically. “The hell do you know that we don’t?”

Colton groaned as if we were acting oblivious. “I was calling in the first place ’cause the timing of me talking with you guys about all this shit before, combined with a bunch of dancers cutting and running from a place that pays them to be there, was coincidental as fuck.”

It was my turn to squint, then, and I asked, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that it makes me feel like word could have spread…and typically in big bag guy land,” he began sardonically, “when news about big bad guy shit is spreading around like wildfire, those big bad guys aren’t terribly appreciative of that.” Zoey rolled her eyes at his tone, and my gut twisted as his pitch dropped to one that was grave. “Which, again, is why I called. ’Cause if rumors are being spread or something, this could be—to put it mildly—very bad if it gets back to any of us. To me—to you—to Jay. Did you—”

“Start rumors?” I cut off his insinuation. “Of course not.”

“Even if she did,” Zoey remarked, “how would that get back to James?”

A burning sensation similar to acid reflux crept up my throat.

“Jay said he went to Gas Lamp?” Colton inquired.

“Yeah, him and a million other dudes, I’m sure,” Zoey noted. “So, he’s been to your work—so what?”

Colton hummed. “Did he make it obvious that you’re together?”

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