Alcohol You Later (11)

Mr. Potter is my drug of choice, and the highs, however brief they may be, will always outweigh the lows.

I could be dating other people. Hell, I should be. But I have this pesky little organ that beats to the tune of one hard-headed, moody, but hella sexy drummer boy.

Anika smiles over at me, drawing me from my rambling thoughts, before putting on the blinker and merging into traffic. “No problem.”

She makes it very clear she’s in no mood to chat when she raises the volume on the radio, but the girl should know me well enough by now to realize her not so subtle hint isn’t going to deter me one iota.

“So, Nick got his own bus?” I pry, thrumming my manicured nails on the door.

“Yep.” She stresses the finality of that answer by popping the P and bobbing her head along to the beat.

With a sigh, I rest my cheek against the cool glass.

The fact that she and Korie are being so tight-lipped has my anxiety through the roof.

“You’re not gonna give me even a little hint?” I ask after a few quiet minutes of silently watching the scenery roll by.

The glare she flicks my way could melt the polar icecaps.

With a sigh, I shift in my seat. “Put yourself in my position…woman to woman.”

“I’d rather not.” She scrunches her nose and purses her lips in disgust.

“You’re such a bitch,” I grumble through my first real smile in hours. Nick’s manager bats for the other team, if you know what I mean. Anika’s probably one of the only women alive who wouldn’t want to be in my position right now.

She winks. “I try.”

“Liar.” I slam my head back against the headrest, bringing my knees to my chest, and resting my shoes on the leather.

“You’re right. It comes almost as natural to me as breathing.” Her side-eye at my boots on the seat is quite comical.

“What?” I widen my eyes. “Not like it’s your car.”

Without another word she shrugs her shoulders and gazes straight ahead.

I can’t help but giggle to myself at the thought of how furiously she’s cursing me in her head right now. Picking on her is one way to lift the spirits, and I need a pick-me-up like never before.

Anika is…an acquired taste. She’s bossy, regimented, and OCD as hell. It took well over a year before I felt comfortable in her presence. Now, we bicker like sisters. While she can be a bit intense, I’m all too aware of the stress she’s under trying to keep the group in line. It’s no wonder she’s so crotchety. However, having been on the receiving end of more of her little rants than I care to admit, it brings me great pleasure to see her a little worked up.

“I thought we were going to his bus?” I ask when she whips the black Navigator into a spot at the Winchester Hotel.

The tiny tyrant unfastens her seatbelt, twisting to face me with a look that could only be described as compassionate. The transformation from wanting to murder me to coddle me is instantaneous, and that’s when my already frantic heart starts beating triple time. It takes a lot to squeeze even an ounce of emotion out of this girl. She sucks in a deep breath, and I can see her wheels spinning.

“What?” I finally snap. “Just say it, you’re making me crazy.”

Her child-sized hand covers mine on the center console. “Just brace yourself.” She gives my fingers a squeeze and raises a single brow.

“I really fucking hate you right now,” I growl before clambering out of the truck.

“We’ll send someone for your things.” Anika walks around to meet me, lacing her arm through mine. And now I’m damn near hyperventilating, because it feels a heck of a lot like this bitch is trying to prepare me for tragedy.

“Did someone die?” With a hard swallow, I tug the ends of my top down to try to cover my midriff, but that only serves to accentuate the girls. Frazzled, I start fastening a few notches on my corset, really wishing I’d worn a jacket or packed a few articles of clothing in my carry on.

“No,” she chuckles, slapping my hand away from my cleavage. “Don’t be so dramatic.” She waggles her brows suggestively. “Leave it…he’ll like it.”

I nod, pulling in a few deep breaths to prepare myself for whatever lies ahead. “Let’s go.”

The elevator ride up to the penthouse is made in total silence. Either my heartbeat is echoing or hers is just as loud and doing a good job of keeping with my frantic pace. I’m picturing a million and one scenarios, and none of them good.

Maybe he’s sick…oh, God. It would be just like Nick to distract himself from something serious by toying with my libido. I swear it’s one of his favorite pastimes.

What if he got busted with drugs? But then why the secrecy? Why fly me out here for that?

That can’t be it.

“It’s going to be okay,” Anika whispers as she slides the key card into the slot and shoves the door open.

It smells like pizza and beer…and oddly enough, home. When I round the corner, I find Nick and the rest of the guys, minus Lyle, lounging on pristine white leather sofas. Some home renovation show is blaring on the TV. On the surface nothing appears out of the ordinary, but everything feels wrong.

“Nick.” His name is all I can manage, having worked myself into a bundle of nerves. I refuse to fucking cry, especially when I still don’t know what the hell is going on.