Page 95 of Blue Moon

I shoved Luis off my legs, and yuck, he’d drooled on my thigh. How much had we drunk last night?

“Doesn’t matter.” My words came out as a croak. “Water. I need water.”

“Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am.”

I shook Luis as she ran to the kitchen. “Wake up, jackass.”

Sheesh, we hadn’t even made it off the couch. I swung my feet over the edge and stepped on Paul. Crap! Then I spotted Venus slumped in the armchair opposite, and where was Aisha?

Paul struggled to his knees and peeled a cheese pastry off his cheek.

“What the hell happened?”

At a guess? A thousand bucks’ worth of top-shelf liquor and a total lack of respect for tomorrow. I tried to put that into actual words, but all that came out was “Need Tylenol.”

The housekeeper hurried over with a tray. “Ma’am, I didn’t know whether you wanted seltzer or still, ice or no ice.”

Paul grabbed the nearest of the four glasses and chugged it, then choked on an ice cube. I smacked him on the back. Heck, we had a show tonight.

“Luis, wake up.”

“Whaaaa?”

The door opened again, and Derek Monroe walked in, eyes wide. “What happened? Did we have a security breach?”

“No, we had room service.” Speaking felt as if my throat were being sandpapered. “I think there’s something wrong with your liquor. I’ve literally never felt this bad.”

Derek glanced at the empty bottles on the coffee table. “I suspect that what’s wrong with it was the quantity. I’d better order you some breakfast.”

“I just need Tylenol.”

“No, you don’t. Tylenol on top of alcohol is bad for your liver. What you need is Advil, vitamins, juice, and carbs. Oh, and you need to call your boyfriend. He’s worried about you.”

Shit, everyone knew.

“Really?” I fished down the side of the cushions for my phone. “He hasn’t— Oh.”

The phone was on silent, and I had eleven missed calls, plus a bunch of messages that started with Call me when you have a moment and ended with Moon, you okay? Getting really fuckin worried here.

Dammit!

“I’ll call him.” Someone groaned in the second bedroom, and that had to be Aisha, didn’t it? “Uh, I should…”

Derek glanced in that direction. “I’ve got it.”

I staggered into my bedroom and caught sight of myself in the mirror by the closet. Yikes. The creature looking back at me was part zombie, part raccoon. Groaning, I sagged onto the bed. Then got up again and closed the door. What time was it in Georgia? Tbilisi was eleven hours ahead, and if I’d slept for as long as I feared I had, it must have been almost midnight. I squinted at the screen, but before I could dial, my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I normally sent those to voicemail, but what if Ryder had borrowed a different phone?

“Hello?”

“OMG! Did you hear the news?”

What the heck? “Marcel?”

I hadn’t given him my number, and I was seventy-five percent sure Ryder hadn’t either.

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