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Moments like this, I envy Mom’s lost memory. She’s only kept the good parts. I wish I could forget it all.
And then I feel like an ass for even thinking that.
Christ, Jarett. Stop the pity party. Do something about the mess you’re in.
I could go find Gigi and lose myself in her.
But my jaw throbs and my ribs ache, and if she sees the bruises she will ask questions, and I’ll have to answer, because it’s getting harder and harder to lie to her. To keep the truth hidden.
So I roll on my back and stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks and stains, waiting for morning.
But before dawn breaks, my phone rings.
“Merc isn’t answering his phone, and I don’t know what to do, I just… couldn’t think of who to call,” Gigi wails into the phone. Then, “Crap, I shouldn’t have called you. Sorry, I just, sorr—”
“Gigi, breathe.” I swing my legs off the bed, instantly alert. “What’s the matter?”
She doesn’t seem to hear me. “You didn’t answer last night and didn’t come by, and I should have known you don’t want to see me. Oh God, I should’ve called Syd—”
“I wanted so damn much to see you,” I tell her earnestly, cutting through her stream of breathless words. “Something came up. Listen to me, Gigi.”
“What?” Now she sounds close to crying.
Fuck. Can’t stand the thought of her crying. “Tell me what’s going on. Did something happen?”
“Okay, okay.” She draws a shallow breath. “Mom twisted her ankle and can’t walk, and her boyfriend is out of town, and Tati’s gone into labor, and there’s a complication, and I can’t go to be with her because of Mom, and Merc won’t answer his frigging phone.” A hiccupping sob. “Don’t know what to do.”
“Tati… That’s your sister, right?” I try to think, my brain woolly and foggy from lack of sleep. “Why are you so damn worried? I mean… her husband is with her, right?”
“Yes! But the… the fetal monitoring showed the baby isn’t getting enough air, and they will do a C-section, and… I need to be with her.” Another hiccupping sob, and I’m already on my feet.
“I’m on my way to you.” I shove my feet into my boots and grab my jacket. “I’ll find Merc. Don’t worry, girl. Everything will be okay.”
More promises, but I don’t fucking care. It will be okay, because the contrary ain’t an option. I’m taking care of my girl, no matter the cost.
Which leaves the problem of how to locate Merc. Where the hell can he be? Out partying, I’ll bet. Drinking, like any guy his age on a Friday night. Or Saturday morning, by now.
After requesting an Uber, I call Seb.
He answers after a few rings. “Should’ve blocked your number, shithead. Whatcha want now?”
Gritting my teeth, I tell myself this isn’t the time to start a yelling match. Besides, he’s probably high. “Need a favor.”
He snorts. “What makes you think I’d do anything for you, you fuck-ass bitch, you don’t—”
“Just do me one goddamn favor for once, you fucking asshole!”
I’m panting hard, and there’s silence at the other end of the line. I start lowering the phone from my ear, resigned to the fact that my brother won’t help me the one time I ask for his help. As if I didn’t know, but hope dies last, or so they say.
His voice, tinny through the phone speaker, stops me. “Tell me what you need.”
I’m so damn shocked that the Uber arrives and I stare at the car, the phone back at my ear, speechless.
The driver gestures at me to climb in, and I do, still in a daze. “Hey, okay. I need to find this guy. Merc. Mercury Watson. He’s probably in one of the bars near the college campus, or a house party. Dunno. His sister needs to contact him. Can you find him for me?”
Seb curses. “Seriously? What am I, a bloodhound?”
“You always say you know people. I’ll bet you can find him and tell him to call his sister within the hour.”
