Page 30 of The Oscar Escape
Oscar raised his hands defensively and took a step back. “I didn’t have a choice, Aria.”
She wanted to let loose a string of expletives as more memories from last night broke through the oatmeal sludge in her head and flooded her mind. Her mood shifted from boiling rage to jaw-dropping disbelief. “You threw me over your shoulder like a Neanderthal.”
“I did.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. But that didn’t keep her from remembering the bewildered DJ and the lacy panties on the VIP sofa. She recalled the crowd and the throng of photographers watching her—and recording—as she went off on Justin. She opened her eyes and searched Oscar’s face. He looked guilty, or perhaps he was dazed from whatever the hell happened after that—which still hadn’t come back to her. Then again, she’d ingested alcohol, cough medicine, and pills. Jesus, she was a mess. She cradled her head in her hands. “What happened last night can’t be as bad as I think it is, can it?”
“I guess it depends,” he said gently.
“On what?”
“How you define bad.”
So much for being helpful.
She threw him a pointed glance—a look that would have had most people shaking in their boots. Oscar didn’t move a muscle. That was the trouble with the man. He knew her just as well as she knew him.
“Is this you being scary?” he tossed out.
She narrowed her gaze. “Yeah, it is. You know it is.”
“Okay,” he mumbled. “Tell me when you’re done putting on a show.”
This infuriating man.
She dropped the eat-worms vibe. “All right, you win. I’ll admit it. I wasn’t exactly in my right mind last night. My behavior might have been a tad extreme. That’s only because I may have overdone it trying to manage some aches and pain. I was self-medicating because I—”
“Pushed yourself too damned hard again.” Oscar cut her off with his judgy growl. “That’s what happened—only it was worse this time.”
She didn’t have to take this from him. She revived her eat-worms expression. “I’ve got a lot on my plate. The musicians and my crew depend on me to be ready for every performance. Livelihoods depend on my ability to drag my ass onto that stage.”
“With a damned crane,” he muttered.
“Yes, it’s a show with pyrotechnics, lights, smoke, and a damned crane,” she bit back, watching as he stewed in hisknow-it-allness.“I’m at the tail end of a tour,” she raged. “My voice is shot. My body is bruised. But I’m so close to . . .” She trailed off and stared down Oscar as a flurry of questions percolated in her head that had nothing to do with going double platinum. She reined herself in and pursed her lips. “Why were you in Boston?”
He started another round of pacing. “What do you mean?”
She sprang from the chair and stopped him from wearing a groove into the hardwood floor. He needed to know that she was dead serious and required actual answers. She pulled on the hoodie ties, forcing him to look at her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in town? How did you know I’d be at that club?”
“The entire world knew you were at that club,” he rasped, a storm brewing in his eyes. He pointed to a white writing desk near a window. “If you let go, I’ll show you on my phone. You can see for yourself what happened.”
She zeroed in on the desk. Her notebook was there with the pink highlighter, along with a cell phone.
“That is, if you want to know,” he warned. “It was bad, Aria, and we both know I’ve seen you at your worst. Saying it was bad means—”
“I get it,” she eked out, releasing the drawstrings. Her throat wasn’t as sore anymore. Now it was thick with emotion. “Wait,” she said, the word coming out on a shaky syllable. She gripped his forearm. “What happened last night is everywhere online, right?”
“What happened in that club in Boston is, yeah.”
Another odd answer. Where else had she had a total meltdown?
Before she could ask, another revelation hit. A knot twisted in her belly. Tears burned her eyes. She was on the verge of losing it but willed herself not to cry. “My aunt and uncle have probably seen the videos. They must be worried sick. Where’s my phone? I have to call them.” She picked up her notebook to check beneath it, but her cell wasn’t there. Frantically, she pulled out the desk drawers but found them empty.
“Aria,” Oscar said and took her hands, halting her mad search. “I don’t know where your phone is. It wasn’t on you. But you don’t have to worry. I talked to Landon and Harper late last night.
“You did?”
He nodded. “And I called my parents to let them know I was with you. I also texted Seb and Pheebs so they could tell their families that you’re okay.”
