Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)(72)

“Those guys, Bill . . . and Max . . . they’re involved . . .”

“Jesus Christ,” Adrian fished through is pocket and produced a plastic credit-card looking thing, “here’s my key for The Centennial, room 323, go!” He pointed in the direction he came from as he helped me to my feet before running toward Bo.

I kicked off my shoes and kept running, leaving them where I fell.

*

Taupe. That’s the color I named the walls of Adrian’s room at The Centennial. There was only a digital clock in the room, but I could hear the ticking of impossible time. I was growing anxious at the unknown fates of the men I left behind on the sidewalk I must have been a real sight showing up to this classy hotel bloody and shoeless; keeping my head down as I ran to the elevator, praying not to run in to anyone as I opened his door.

My muscles started to ring from the fall I took in those damn shoes. I rose and limped to the bathroom to survey the damage; my skinned elbows and knees were crusted in dried blood. My eyes lifted to meet themselves in the wall-length mirror; a fairly deep looking gash oozed blood from my right eyebrow-I turned aimlessly back to the room and sat carefully on the bed.

Taupe. Tick. Tock.

A soft knock on the door didn’t startle me as it would have even two hours ago; I rose indolently and moved toward the door. There was another knock.

“It’s Adrian, Ember.”

I turned and walked back to the bed as I opened the door so he wouldn’t see my face immediately. Adrian closed the door softly; more to appease me than the other guests, I assumed. I heard a clunk on the dresser and turned to see him set my shoes down; I cracked a half-smile but winced against the pain.

“Fuck, Blue, hang on,” he said as he went to the bathroom and turned on the water. He returned with a wet washcloth and sat next to me on the bed, “I’m just going to clean off your face, OK?” I nodded, my eyes never leaving the infinite spot on the wall they chose. When the warm washcloth connected with my wound, I leaned in to Adrian’s hand and was able to finally start processing the events of the last couple of hours.

“Does anything else hurt?” he continued. I just shook my head.

“Where’s Bo? Did he get hurt?” I asked, not moving my head from his hand.

“No, Cavanaugh’s fine, don’t know why those pricks messed with him in the first place - he’s much stronger. They’re at the police station; Bill and Max will be staying the night. Bo hung around a while to make sure you didn’t have to come down and give a statement.”

“What? Of course I do, right?”

“You didn’t really have anything to do with the fight those three got into on the sidewalk; you ran away. Bo wants you as far away from this as possible.” Adrian draped his arm around my shoulder.

“But, in Barnstable the three of them-”

“The three of them were in Barnstable? When?” Adrian leaned back, forcing me to hold my own weight. I noticed Adrian was wearing a tight red t-shirt, and wanted to smile at our wardrobe telepathy. I chose, however, to remain at the task at hand.

I told Adrian the story of the night when I dropped my car off at the garage, and the events that transpired thereafter. He listened intently, like the lawyer he’d become; furrowing his brow, nodding, and rubbing his chin.

“So you didn’t see any of them.” Adrian asserted.

“No, just heard their names and they were talking about Rae . . . but I thought it was ‘Ray’. They called the other guy ‘Spike,’ which I now know to be some high school nickname given to Bo . . .” My thoughts drifted to Rachel who was still, hopefully, unaware of the situation.

As Adrian opened his mouth to speak, there was a frantic knock on the door.

“Adrian? November? It’s Bo - let me in.”

I rose, but Adrian’s hand forced me back to the bed.

“Just sit, you’re a mess,” he said as he headed toward the door.

Inexplicably, Adrian opened the door just a crack.

“What the hell Turner, let me in! I need to see her, is she OK?” Bo was frantic.

“Just, OK, stay calm dude, she hasn’t cleaned up yet,” Adrian said as he backed away from the door.

“What the hell? Oh my God, Ember!” Bo fell to his knees in front of me, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my lap.

The dam broke, and in the span of time it took for him to utter the word ‘God’ I went from near-catatonic to a heaving, shuddering mess. He rose and met me on the bed, using tender strength as he pulled me toward him. When I finally pulled away, I saw my blood-stained tears resting on his shirt, and Adrian standing uncomfortably by the bathroom door.

“Bo, what the f*ck was all of that?” I finally managed as I stood and crossed toward the bathroom to clean myself off. Adrian walked to the other side of the room as Bo remained seated.

I walked out after my face, elbows and knees were sufficiently cleaned, and found the guys in the exact same positions.

“Ember,” Adrian started, “you were telling me that you saw, or heard, something with Bill and Max a couple weeks ago in Barnstable?” His tone was prompting.

“Yea, and apparently Bo - but they called him Spike . . .”

“That was my nickname in high school-long story,” he chuckled.

“Why didn’t I know about this, Bo?”