Lick (Stage Dive, #1)(5)

The paparazzi were close behind.

The motherf*cking paparazzi. It would have been surreal if it wasn’t so frantic and in my face.

Lauren pushed me into the back seat of the cab. I scrambled across then slumped down, doing my best to hide. Wishing I could disappear entirely.

“Go! Hurry!” she shouted at the driver.

The driver took her at her word. Our ride shot out of the place, sending us sliding across the cracked vinyl seating. My forehead bounced off the back of the (luckily padded) passenger seat. Lauren pulled my seatbelt over me and jammed it into the clasp. My hands didn’t seem to be working. Everything jumped and jittered.

“Talk to me,” she said.

“Ah …” No words came out. I pushed her sunglasses up on top of my head and stared into space. My ribs hurt and my heart still pounded so hard.

“Ev?” With a small smile Lauren patted my knee. “Did you somehow happen to get married while we were away?”

“I … yeah. I, uh, I did. I think.”

“Wow.”

And then it just all blurted out of me. “God, Lauren. I screwed up so badly and I barely even remember any of it. I just woke up and he was there and then he was so pissed at me and I don’t even blame him. I didn’t know how to tell you. I was just going to pretend it never happened.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work now.”

“No.”

“Okay. No big deal. So you’re married.” Lauren nodded, her face freakily calm. No anger, no blame. Meanwhile, I felt terrible I hadn’t confided in her. We shared everything.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have told you.”

“Yes, you should have. But never mind.” She straightened out her skirt like we were sitting down to tea. “So, who did you marry?”

“D-David. His name is David.”

“David Ferris, by any chance?”

The name sounded familiar. “Maybe?”

“Where we going?” asked the cab driver, never taking his eyes off the traffic. He wove in and out among the cars with supernatural speed. If I’d been up to feeling anything, I might have felt fear and more nausea. Blind terror, perhaps. But I had nothing.

“Ev?” Lauren turned in her seat, checking out the cars behind us. “We haven’t lost them. Where do you want to go?”

“Home,” I said, the first safe place to come to mind. “My parents’ place, I mean.”

“Good call. They’ve got a fence.” Without pausing for breath Lauren rattled off the address to the driver. She frowned and pushed the sunglasses back down over my face. “Keep them on.”

I gave a rough laugh as the world outside turned back into a smudge. “You really think it’ll help, now?”

“No,” she said, flicking back her long hair. “But people in these situations always wear sunglasses. Trust me.”

“You watch too much TV.” I closed my eyes. The sunglasses weren’t helping my hangover. Nor was the rest of it. All my own damn fault. “I’m sorry I didn’t say something. I didn’t mean to get married. I don’t even remember what happened exactly. This is such a …”

“Clusterf*ck?”

“That word works.”

Lauren sighed and rested her head on my shoulder. “You’re right. You really shouldn’t drink tequila ever again.”

“No,” I agreed.

“Do me a favor?” she asked.

“Mm?”

“Don’t break up my favorite band.”

“Ohmygod.” I shoved the sunglasses back up, frowning hard enough to make my head throb. “Guitarist. He’s the guitarist. That’s where I know him from.”

“Yes. He’s the guitarist for Stage Dive. Well spotted.”

The David Ferris. He’d been on Lauren’s bedroom wall for years. Granted, he had to be the last person I’d expect to wake up to, on a bathroom floor or otherwise. But how the hell could I not have recognized him? “That’s how he could afford the ring.”

“What ring?”

Shuffling further down in the seat, I fished the monster out of my jeans pocket and brushed off the lint and fluff. The diamond glittered accusingly in the bright light of day.

Lauren started shaking beside me, muffled laughter escaping her lips. “Mother of God, it’s huuuuge!”

“I know.”

“No, seriously.”

“I know.”

“Fuck me. I think I’m about to pee myself,” she squeed, fanning her face and bouncing up and down on the car seat. “Look at it!”

“Lauren, stop. We can’t both be freaking out. That won’t work.”

“Right. Sorry.” She cleared her throat, visibly struggling to get herself back under control. “How much is that even worth?”

“I really don’t want to guess.”

“That. Is. Insane.”

We both stared at my bling in awed silence.

Suddenly Lauren started bopping up and down in her seat again like a kid riding a sugar high. “I know! Let’s sell it and go backpacking in Europe. Hell, we could probably circle the globe a couple of times on that sucker. Imagine it.”

“We can’t,” I said, as tempting as it sounded. “I’ve got to get it back to him somehow. I can’t keep this.”