Page 90 of Constantine: Britain's Story: Part 2
“No, she didn’t.”
Jess rolls her eyes at me. “I’m sure I have an address in my email or something. Give me a minute.”
I can’t wait, though. “Text it to me, please?” I don’t wait for a response, just heading straight out the door and into my car. I call Alex as soon as the bluetooth connects.
“What did you do?” Alex answers the phone in a biting tone.
“I don’t know! Is she there?”
“Yeah, she is. She’s sleeping right now.”
“Is she okay?”
“No, she’s not okay. She walked in here looking fucking catatonic like someone just blew up her world. What. Did. You. DO?”
“Nothing! She was supposed to have lunch with Constantine today, and then she wouldn’t respond to my messages, and then my calls, and I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I’m coming to see her.”
“Whoa, whoa. Pump the brakes. Let her sleep. Maybe she’s just upset about Georgia. She sure as fuck shouldn’t be out driving, though.” My stomach rolls with anxiety, and fear.
“I guess just let me know when she wakes up and if there’s anything I can do.” My tone is completely defeated.
“If she wakes up and I find out you fucked her, you’re gonna want to to run for the hills.”
“I didn’t do anything. I don’t fucking get it!”
“I’ll let you know,” Alex says, then hangs up the phone. Jess texts me a minute later with the address. I won’t go there, yet, but I’m not going back to Spearhead either.
When I get out of my SUV at Max’s house, I slam the car door shut and a rooster crows at me when I do, walking past me in a hurry.Fucking excuse me. Max is sitting on his front porch waiting for me and he laughs at my reaction to the poultry.
“Trouble in paradise so soon?” Max asks.
“Fuck you, man,” I reply.
“So that’s a yes.”Yeah, it is.“What’d you do?”
“Seriously, nothing. She went to have lunch with your dad, and then I don’t know, but she won’t answer my calls or texts.” I shrug.
“Come on, man.” Max ushers me inside where his housekeeper, Anna, greets me.
“Liam! Are you hungry? Come, come, let’s get you boys some dinner!”
I don’t have the heart to tell her no, so we follow her to the kitchen where she starts pulling trays out of the fridge to reheat. Max gestures to the wet bar, motioning towards the bottles lined up, with a question.
“Small glass, really small, I want to be able to go pick her up,” I say as he pours himself a healthy glass of Eagle Rare and drops a splash in one for me. I think he does it as a joke, but it’s fine. I want to stay sober so I can go get my girl if needed.
In an attempt to keep the conversation off me, I ask Max, “So have you told your family yet?”
He shakes his head no. “Nah, I’m going to let Matt sweat for a bit. Let him wonder.”
“Can’t say I blame you,” I laugh.
“I can’t believe you really did it, man. We’re going to miss you.”
“I mean this in the nicest possible way, but I’m not going to missanyof you.” We both laugh. “But hey, thanks for buying me out.” I hold up my glass to his, in a toast.
“Thanks for thinking of me first,” he says, then slams back his full bourbon.
Anna pushes plates in front of us, and we both reluctantly eat. I’m pretty sure Max inherited Anna when his father died and left him this ranch. She only knows how to cook for ranch hands, so while it’s hearty food, it’s doused in gravy with extra butter and extra lard in everything. Perfect for a hangover. Not so perfect when you’re sick with worry and can barely hold it down.
