Page 113 of Riot Act
Wren couldn’t give a shit about Chase. He makes a good show of looking back and forth between the two girls, but I know my boy and his true focus is locked on Elodie like she’s the only living, breathing creature in the universe.
I pretend not to give two shits about the conversation that takes place around me, and I’m pretty sure I do a decent job of affecting some serious boredom, but the truth is I’m kind of rapt.
“Is your mom coming back here for graduation?” Elodie asks.
Chase shakes her head. “She only just got posted. I won’t see her until Christmas.”
Posted. So her mother’s military, too.
“Where’s she stationed?” Wren asks. The suck-up.
Chase does her best not to look at me. “Germany.”
Elodie takes another bite of her pasta. “I’d ask if you’re missing her a lot, but I know how little you saw her before anyway.” Elodie’s an army brat. She knows about military life. Her father, an army general, is currently hooked up to a life support machine in the outskirts of Tel Aviv. But the less said about that, the better.
Chase pokes at her chicken with her fork. “Yeah. I wanted to go and visit her after graduation, but…” She trails off, shrugging.
“Your dad still doesn’t want you to come to Europe?”
“No. He doesn’t think it’s safe.”
I’m sure the fact that Chase’s father knows his daughter was recently in the hospital with two slit wrists has nothing to do with his reluctance to let her travel through Europe. No, nothing at all.
“Maybe he’d change his mind if he knew Pax was going to be there to protect you.” Elodie looks directly at me as she says this.
Wren laughs. “Hah! Pax is banned from most of Germany. They won’t let him back into the entire eastern side of the country.”
Chase chuckles, like this might be some kind of joke. Elodie’s eyes double in size, though. “What did you do?”
“That’s still a mystery,” Wren sighs. “And the bastard isn’t telling.”
The girls both look at me, as if they’re waiting for me to cave under the pressure of their expectant gazes and spill the whole story from start to finish. Of course, I do not. I don’t fritter away my secretsthateasily.
The waiter delivers the desert we’ve ordered. I grab an Old Fashioned, as does Wren, while the girls settle on some more wine. By the time Wren’s footed the astronomical bill and we leave Le Bernadin, my mild buzz has developed quite nicely. I feel numb. Loose in my joints. Happy, almost.
It's ten twenty. I should be getting back to the hotel. I have a very pressing engagement at midnight. One I will not miss. But just as I predicted, Wren has other plans. “Come on. You’re going the wrong way.” He goes behind me and plants his palms against my shoulder blades, turning me and pushing me in the opposite direction. Both physically and vocally, I dig my heels in.
“No. No, no, no, no, no. I told you—”
“And I ignored you. Come on. Are you seriously going to go back to the hotel and pass out before eleven o’clock? What the fuck’s wrong with you? Don’t be a bitch.”
I’ve copped a lot of goading from Jacobi since I moved into Riot House. If he thinks a stupid comment like that is going to make me change my mind, he has another thing coming.
“I don’t want to go back just yet,” Elodie says. “I bet Chase doesn’t want to either.”
“None of you are sleeping in my fucking room, so it doesn’t matter what any of you do. You, Jacobi and Chase can stay up until dawn for all I fucking care.”
Wren gives me another shove, toward the direction of the river. “Come on. I got us on the list to this club. It’s supposed to be a lot of fun. If you ruinmynight any more than you already have, I’ll never let you borrowThe Contessaagain. Oh wait, that’s right, you sank my father’s boat, and you owe me massively since I didn’t fucking kill you when I found out what you did. Hurray. It’s decided. Let’s do this.”
“How many times?It wasn’t my fault!”
But it’s too late. He’s got some momentum behind him and he’s managed to get me moving. I shoot off a text as I’m led toward the mystery club.
Me: Change of plan. We need to meet in the city.
Msg rcvd 10:36 pm
310 648 1010: Send me the address. I’ll be there.
