Page 39 of Endless Anger
I pause, waiting for my sister. She doesn’t follow, instead scrolling through her phone while she remains buckled.
Clearing my throat, I tilt my head at her. “Are you coming?”
“Nope.” She grins, but it seems forced. “I’ve got a big audition tomorrow morning. Don’t want to jeopardize my slot.”
“So why doIhave to go in?”
“Because your best friend is in there, and she deserves more than what she’s been getting from you.”
“Why do you even give a shit, Noelle? It’s none of your business.”
“As your older, wiser sister, it is actually my business. Plus, I love Lucy, and I’m tired of her being sad because you’re too stupid to fix things.” Her face grows solemn for a moment. “Don’t be an idiot and let the resentment foster. It won’t do you any good.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“How else does one gain wisdom?” Her grin wobbles. “I’ve realized some stuff while living out west, that’s all. Time is fleeting, and so are people. You have to latch on to them while you can.”
What the hell is going on with her?
She leans over, pulling the passenger door shut. A second later, the locks click into place, and she cracks the window. “Go get ’em, tiger!”
Growling under my breath, I make a mental note to get her back for this. Whether it’s by somehow sabotaging her big audition tomorrow—honestly, she’s been out in California since she graduated from high school, andeveryaudition seems to be her potential break until it isn’t—or forcing her to ride in the trunk while I drive home later, I can’t decide.
Both sound appealing as I make my way to Lethe’s entrance, the scent of sweat and cheap booze growing immensely the closer I get.
Not a great sign, considering the door isn’t even open yet, but oh well. I’ve made it this far, I may as well see it through.
I push inside and am met with low lighting and a wall of dancingbodies, writhing around as they either wait at the bar for service or stand just outside the illuminated dance floor in the middle of the big room.
Circular tables sparsely decorate the worn wooden floors on the edges of the crowd, and several bass speakers thump so loud at the front that the bottles behind the bar rattle on the shelves.
I swallow over the knot in my throat, unwilling to retreat, even though parties are the furthest thing from being my scene. Even Foxe’s in high school, I’d only tag along to be the designated driver and make sure no one tried anything with Lucy.
My heart thumps an uneven rhythm in my chest, echoing against my rib cage as I glance around for evidence of her. I don’t even know if she’s actually here—Noelle’s notorious for bad intel, and this feels like one of those sloppy-as-fuck plans that she threw together at the last second for no reason.
Seriously. I don’t buy that my rift with Lucy was upsetting Mom. Maybe Noelle isn’t giving the woman enough credit.
Making my way to the bar, I weave through the throng of folks waiting in line, propping my elbows on the counter. Dozens of eyes swing in my direction, but I ignore every one of them.
I doubt they’d know who I am just by a single glance, but I don’t need to draw extra attention.
A girl with a dark brown complexion and wide eyes skips over, her curly hair pushed back with a sparkling pink headband.
“Can I get you something?” she asks.
“A name?”
She smiles, displaying a full set of perfect white teeth. “Muna. Head of student relations and campus activity through the week and part-time bartender at Lethe’s on the weekends.” Extending her hand, she gives me a nod. “Nice to meet you.”
I blink at her offer and let my arms fall from the counter. “I didn’t mean your name.”
“Oh.” Her face deflates, and someone at my side snickers into their drink. “Are you looking for someone then?”
“A friend,” I say, stuffing my hands in my pockets.
Muna tilts her head, studying me. “You don’t go here, I presume?”
“Is it that obvious?”
