Page 43 of Famous Last Words
“You’re coming out tonight, huh, Mason?” Logan asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe,”I murmur.
“Franny outside?” Dallas asks.
At the thought of Keller, my smile falters before I can catch myself.
“Uh-oh, trouble in paradise,” Dallas teases.
I roll my eyes, shrugging out of his grip. “Na, she never showed,” I explain, glancing back at my locker. “She was supposed to.”
Dallas straightens, and for the first time since I’ve known the guy, I witness firsthand his playboy charm make way for seriousness, brows lowering as he leans in a little closer. “Everything okay?”
All I can do is shrug as I make my way back to my locker.
Retrieving my phone, I check my messages. Still nothing. I know we’re not really together, but it doesn’t mean I’m not worried.
As I sit down on the bench, elbows on my knees, I rack my mind over the possibilities as I stare at my phone. Even if she’d been called urgently into work at the bar, she’d have told me. She wouldn’t just not show up.
“All good, man?” Dallas wobbles in front of me as he struggles to take off his bulky pants.
Sitting up a little straighter, I glance up at him. “Uh, yeah. I might pass on drinks tonight.”
His gaze flits down to my phone clutched in my hands. “She okay?”
I puff air from my cheeks, raking my fingers through my sweaty hair. I shake my head. “I can’t get a hold of her. I need to go check in.”
Dallas’s eyes flare with concern. “Shit, of course, man. We can go get beers any time.” He nudges me in what I assume is an attempt to keep things light. “Plenty more wins to celebrate.”
I manage a smile, but it’s forced. Because I’m still fully aware that Fran hasn’t messaged me back, and I’m more worried than I even care to admit to myself.
CHAPTER 19
ROBBIE
The Uber rolls to a stop in a quiet street somewhere in the Lower East Side, right outside one of those quintessential New York City apartment buildings with the external fire escape, and graffiti tags sprayed around what appears to be a sketchy security door.
Climbing the stoop, I check my phone with the address I got from Andy, scanning the list of apartments on the panel before pressing the button for3B. But after waiting a moment, there’s no response. I press the button again, holding it down a little longer. Still nothing.
I step back and look up at the building to the third floor. It looks as though there’s a light on.
Cursing under my breath, steam plumes from my mouth on a hard exhale, and I step up to the intercom again, holding my finger down on3Bfor so long it’ll probably piss off the neighbors. And sure, Fran might not even be there, but if she’s not home, then she should be responding to my text messages, dammit.
“Jesus, fuck.What?” A croaky yet somewhat familiar voice crackles through the ancient intercom speaker.
Surprised by the unwelcome greeting, I hold thetalkbutton down. “Keller?”
Silence.
“Robbie?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah.”
“You know stalking is illegal in the state of New York.”
I can’t help but smirk. “Well, there go my weekends.”
“What are you doing here?”
