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“Huh?”
His shoes moved closer to me, and I recognized those boots. It was Hoodum, Corrigan’s other best friend. He said again, “Jeneve. She’s going to hurl.”
“Oh, man,” Rick Schroder said. “Candy’s going to be pissed. She can’t hurl on the pavement. She won’t let us in tomorrow.”
Hoodum said, “Raimler, you need to call a cab.”
Corrigan made an exasperated sound. “I would, but I can’t find my phone.”
“It’s in your hand.”
“Oh.”
I waved a hand, trying to get their attention. We didn’t need a cab. We needed Denton. He’d send a car. All those thoughts were flashing through my mind, but I couldn’t get them out. The puke was blocking my passages.
I groaned again, even drunk, I knew that made no sense.
Suddenly, instead of the parking lot posts above us, there was a burst of flashing blue, red, and white lights.
“Shit, man.”
Hoodum grunted, moving away from my head. “They could be here for anyone.”
“You guys are fun, but we’re out of here.” That was Rick Schroder. He was abandoning us.
Corrigan said, “You and me, Rick. Shake and bake. Shake . . .”
The guy was gone.
Bryce said, “I’ll bake with you any day.”
A new grumbling started at the idea of baking.
Then Officer Patterson’s voice drifted over my head. “You guys are wasted.”
I could just imagine her disapproving stance. Hands on her hips and her eyebrows lowered, her mouth turned down from disappointment.
Corrigan snorted. “Nothing illegal about that. We’re all twenty-one. And we’re not driving.”
Another cop joined the conversation. I still couldn’t look. If I moved an inch, I’d be spewing. That second person asked, “Why are you guys at this bar?”
“Didn’t want to deal with people recognizing us.”
“Well. I guess. Anyone at this bar really wouldn’t give a flying fuck who you are.”
“Come on, Sheldon.” Officer Patterson, Sheila, tapped my arm. “Look up. It’ll come when it’s going to come. We need you guys down at the police station.”
Crap. They were there
for us. My one thought was, damn, Ritt. He had told on us and now we were being arrested for whatever we did to him. Interrogation. Torture. I had stabbed him. No, assault. I was going back to the slammer.
But then Sheila tilted my head up and said, “We found Guadalupe.”
“What?” Bryce sounded sober, all of a sudden. “You found her?”
Regret flashed in Sheila’s eyes, but she masked it before turning to him. “We need you guys to come to the station. We have some more questions, and then we’ll fill you in on everything.”
“Oh.”
