Page 6 of Endeavor

I type a quick text and hit send.

Me: Hey! I have a crazy favor to ask.

Will: What’s up?

Me: I sort of need a plus-one to an event next weekend.

Will: What kind of event?

Me: A gala for the Green Tortuga Foundation. It’s black tie. (nervous emoji face)

Will: LOL. OK. I can handle that.

Me: Yay! I’ll forward you the deets.

Will: Sounds good. And thanks for asking me.

I grin and look at Quinlan. “I got a date!” I squeal.

She laughs. “I told you. This will be great. And it’ll be fun to have you there.”

We spend the next hour chatting about school. Quinlan gives me some great advice on classes to take. I try to focus on what she says as my mind swirls with excitement. I manage to send Kate a text when I go to the bathroom because nothing is official until your bestie knows it. I decide to wait to tell my family, just in case this ends up only being a night out and nothing more.

Grady

The buzzing of my phone wakes me. I feel around and come in contact with a warm body rather than my phone. It stops buzzing and I open an eye to find a passed-out woman in my bed. It’s the chick from the concert last night. My head pounds from the hangover that I know is going to ruin my morning. I slowly get out of bed and find my phone on the floor. Grabbing it, I snag a bottle of water off the dresser and head to the bathroom. I quickly shower and find some pain meds. I check my phone and see a missed call from my mom.

A moment later a text pops up.

Mom: Don’t forget about the gala.

I groan and I hear the woman stirring in the bed. I grab a bottle of water for her.

She’s sitting up in bed and looks positively green as I hand her the water.

“Thanks,” she mutters as she takes a sip and then promptly runs to the bathroom.

I hear her throwing up and decide to be decent and check on her.

“You OK?” I ask from behind the closed door.

“Yeah, I drank way too much. Sorry.”

“It’s cool. I’ll order you some coffee and toast.”

“And bacon?” she asks.

I laugh. “And bacon.”

“Awesome,” she manages before barfing again. I shake my head. So many groupies can’t keep up with us. I throw on some shorts and sit on a chair in the corner of the room, attempting to remember the events of the previous night. Concert, rocked it. Post-concert, drank a shit ton. Groupie from before made it backstage and then met us back here at the hotel. We partied in Behind Closed Doors’ suite. They are another band. And then at some point, she said we should get out of there and we ended up back in my room. Now, I’m a giant asshole and will be the first to admit it, but I don’t exactly keep track of my conquests. It’s more than fifty but less than one hundred. I think.

I call room service and order her some food. I hear her get in the shower. I pack up my things which aren’t much since this was a local concert. Thank God we got hotel rooms because I was not about to bring pussy home.

My phone pings with another email. I frown when I see who it’s from. Derek Bowman. He’s a private investigator I had hired a few months ago.

I open the email.

Mr. Daniels,

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