Page 68 of Bad For A Weekend

No and who are you to make demands after what you did? We’re being safe and we’ll be home later.

Before I can get a response, I turn the phone off and hand it back.

“There. Now they can’t be pissed we didn’t check in.”

“I like your style, Baylor Giles.”

“Thank you.”

The club is insanely busy, and since we’re being regular people, we don’t even try to get VIP access. We stand in line for drinks and dance in the sea of sweaty people. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Not ever. The energy of the crowd and the freedom of not having to behave in case of paparazzi is liberating.

“I’m having the best night of my life,” I say into Ziggy’s ear.

“I was hesitant, but this is pretty fun.”

After two straight hours of dancing and drinking, we’re buzzed and hot.

“Want to check out our room?” I ask.

“Why not?”

We leave the club and finally find the room we rented after getting lost twice. It’s decent, with two queen beds, a bathroom, and a desk. Nothing fancy. But it does have a balcony that faces the ocean.

“Let’s order dessert from room service and sit outside,” I suggest.

“This is your night.” Ziggy picks up the phone and orders one of every dessert item on the menu.

As we sit outside eating cheesecake, warm chocolate chip cookies, flan, and an ice cream sundae to the sound of waves crashing, I finally feel peace.

“Thank you for this,” I say.

“Thank my dad’s American Express.”

“Thank you, Charlie’s American Express!” I shout.

“I don’t think he can hear you from here.”

“I’m putting that shit into the universe, duh.”

“You’re drunk.”

I check in with myself and admit that, yes, I am indeed wasted. It’s not my first time drinking in excess but I never really enjoyed not being in control. Here with Ziggy, though. I don’t have to be in control. I can be drunk and know everything will be okay.

Owen

Ipace the living room, the same thing I’ve been doing for two fucking hours now. I can’t believe Baylor would be so irresponsible, and I wonder how long I should wait before I call my brother for help, or worse, her dad.

I predicted this. All of it. I knew the ending, yet I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants to stop it. Even worse, I’m terrified something bad has happened. If Baylor doesn’t make it home safely, I’ll never forgive myself, and no amount of brainwashing EMDR will fix that.

Picking up my cell, I make the call.

“Hello?” Hudson sounds groggy and rightfully so. It’s one a.m. here, which means it’s three a.m. in California.

“I need your help.”

“Shit. What happened?” He’s alert now.

“I lost Baylor.” My chest tightens painfully.

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