Page 91 of Start A War (Saint View Psychos)

BLISS

Rebel’s hand hitting me square in the boob woke me from my hangover-induced slumber.

“Your fucking phone, Dis. I swear, you are not sleeping at my place ever again if you’re gonna get calls at this time of morning.”

She was curled up in her bed next to me, a pink silk eye mask crooked on her face, her short hair sticking up in every possible direction.

I squinted in the bright sunlight and then rolled over, groping blindly around the floor for my phone. When I found it, my eyes widened at the time. “It’s midday. Shit. We wasted a whole morning.”

“Sleeping is never wasted time. But you’re gonna find yourself permanently sleeping if you do not answer that phone. What the hell is that ringtone? It sounds like something out of Hannah Montana.”

I shoved her, and she buried her head beneath the covers while I hit the answer button.

“Morning, Sandra.”

“Bethany-Melissa! You’re alive! I’ve been worried sick.”

I rubbed at my sleep-dry eyes. “Uh, why?”

“Caleb said you were too sick to attend last night, so I’ve been calling to check on you, but when you didn’t answer, I imagined all sorts of horrid things. I was about to start calling the hospitals.”

I ground my teeth. Caleb still hadn’t told everyone we were broken up, even after everything Nash had said? I was so done with this. “Are you free for lunch?”

Sandra hesitated. “Well, yes… But no offense. I don’t want to bring you chicken soup. I love you and all, but I don’t do illness. Not even for you.”

That was hardly surprising. I might have known Sandra for years, and I knew she cared about me in her own way, but making someone soup or holding their hair back while they puked or anything else that could be deemed gross or domestic was out of her skill set.

“I’m not sick. I’ll explain, but can you meet me somewhere for lunch? I need to talk.”

“Sure, the club?”

I grinned, an idea forming. Might as well throw her in the deep end. “A club. Yes. But not the country club. I’ll send you a drop pin and meet you out the front. See you in an hour?”

“I’ll be there.”

I hung up and opened my map app, ready to drop directions to Sandra’s phone.

“Did you just invite your country club buddies to Psychos?” Rebel mumbled from beneath the blankets.

“Just one of them.”

“Guess I’m getting outta bed then, because I ain’t missing the look on her face for nothing.”

* * *

Imet Sandra out in front of Psychos, and as Rebel had predicted, the look on her face was hilarious. I waved when she pulled up, but her hand didn’t lift from the steering wheel. Fighting back laughter, I walked over and tapped on the window.

She lowered it a crack. “What in the name of all things holy are we doing here? Have you been abducted and need help? Are your kidnappers just on a smoke break or something?”

I snorted. “What? Of course not. Get out and come in.”

She shook her head furiously. “Oh no. No-no-no. Are you doing porn in there? Is it a porn studio? You aren’t going to ask me to be an extra, are you? I heard the rumors about your dad’s company, but I didn’t believe it was true. Honey! I can spot you some cash if you need it, you don’t have to turn to selling yourself like this.”

“Sandra!” I didn’t know whether to laugh or roll my eyes. From anyone else I would have assumed they were joking, but I had a feeling Sandra was dead serious. “It’s not a porn studio. It’s a bar.”

“With a deranged clown on the door.” She rolled the window a little lower and glanced around like someone might mug her at any moment. “Why on earth would you bring me some place like this? In Saint View, of all places. I saw a homeless person on the way in!”

“Oh, the horror,” I said dryly.

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