Page 1 of Up In Flames
Oren
PROLOGUE
“One more round,” Byron, or Ron as most people called him, said. He leaned heavily against me, his arm draped over my shoulders. I leaned right back against him, too drunk to sit up on my own… probably.
Before I could ask if we should, another drink appeared before me. I’d meant to ask, but I kept losing snatches of time. I’d blink and the conversation had moved on around me. I generally didn’t drink to excess, but after years of hard work, I deserved to tie one on. I shrugged and took a sip.
“A toast!” Rita said, clinking her glass against mine and then Ron’s. “To three badass bitches who passed the bar on their first try.”
Rita scored a 280. I’d barely scraped through, while Ron, my best friend since day one of college, passed his with a 300. I’d scored a full 29 points lower—271. A score of 266 was a pass.
The bar exam was brutal. Easily the hardest thing I’d ever done. We all had known Ron was going to pass, and I didn’t care that he’d clearly blown us all out of the water. The important thing was that I passed on the first try.
All the sacrifices I made. The fight with Tasha months ago that led to our breakup had been because I was unwilling todeviate from my study plan. She’d wanted to go to parties and be taken out to dinner and dancing all the time, and in the beginning I’d tried to find a balance, but the more I compromised, the more she wanted me to give up.
“Should I call Tasha?” I wondered out loud.
“No!” Ron gave me a shove, which nearly took me to the floor. Only Rita’s quick reflexes stopped me from falling over. With a gentle nudge, she pushed me back the other way.
“You absolutely should not call her,” she said, agreeing with Ron. Rita’s long hair had been braided, and she’d piled that braid on top of her head, holding it in place with bobby pins and magic. She took a few bobby pins out and let her hair down. “She never respected you.”
I didn’t want to call her. Not really. The thought had come into my head and fallen out of my mouth, and by the time it landed in my friend’s ears, I knew it wasn’t going to happen.
“Ignore me.” I took another sip. Whatever it was, it was stronger than my last drink. This was fruity and smooth, like the juice I used to drink as a kid, but way not child-friendly. “What is this?” I asked, thrusting my drink in Rita’s face.
“It’s a Bay Breeze cocktail.”
“I like it.”
Ron laughed and Rita rolled her eyes. “So you said, the first three times you had it.”
They laughed at me again and I leaned against Ron. My eyes blinked closed, and then I was on my feet, walking out of the bar. Though walking was a stretch. Ron’s arm was around my waist, and he had my arm held over his shoulder.
“You okay there, buddy?” he asked when he realized I’d come around.
“Fine. Are we going home?” God, I wanted that. Home. Bed. Sleep. I blinked again, and Ron was dumping me into the back seat. He stretched over me and buckled me in. The door closed,and then the next thing I knew, Ron was in the back seat next to me. He was behind the driver’s seat, and I was on the passenger side. I’d missed parts of their conversation, but I could tell Rita and Ron were bickering.
One day, the three of us were going to open our own law firm. It had been our plan since we all entered law school together. Now we were closer than ever.
“—still can’t believe you let him get this wasted. Is he okay?” Rita asked.
“I—” I tried to hold onto Ron’s reply, but it was a struggle to stay awake. “—you were there too.”
Horns blared. Tires screamed. Rita’s shrill voice was cut off, replaced with the sound of breaking glass and crumpling metal. The world spun. Over and over.
Everything went dark.
Everything hurt.
The car wasn’t moving anymore. I blinked, willing my eyes to open. The car was on its wheels, but that didn’t feel like a miracle. Not when the roof was smashed down and the driver’s side was—oh, God.
I fought the urge to be sick. My head fucking ached and the sound of sirens closing in comforted my soul but pierced my skull like a jackhammer. I reached up for my head and my hand came away sticky and red. Fuck.
“Ron…” I definitely had sobered up in the past thirty seconds. “Ron… Rita.” I tried to open my door, but it wouldn’t budge. Next to me, Ron was motionless. Asleep. He was asleep. Passed out. Probably knocked unconscious. I had to think that, in spite of suspecting the truth.
I looked for Rita, but she wasn’t in the passenger seat where she should have been. Where was Rita? Why wasn’t Ron waking up?
Someone came to the side of the car and started yanking at the doors. Their screams hurt my head. I turned to the side and puked on the floor of the car. The alcohol burned coming back out, and puking had been a mistake. The action made my head feel like it was going to break in half and the stink made my stomach lurch.
