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“I have the SUV today. I’ll drive,” DJ said. He was out the door before he even finished talking.
As the rest followed, Stevie caught Augie by the elbow. “Augie, mate, what if she’s…”
“Don’tgo there.” Augie didn’t know if Stevie was going to ask if she’d gone back to the coke, or if she was dead, or maybe both. But Augie didn’t want to even entertain either thought.
At least twice, DJ blew through yellow lights that were on the verge of red, and once Ox got into a shouting match with the car next to them when the driver took exception to DJ’s driving. They were lucky they didn’t cause an accident as they weaved in and out of traffic. At the Somerset, DJ ended up half on the sidewalk, scattering the pedestrians.
George looked up, alarmed, as they all rushed to the desk. He started to get up. “Mr. Stone? Is something wrong?”
“Hopefully not,” Augie said. “None of us have heard from Lauren. Have you seen her?”
“I was off for the weekend. The last time I saw Miss Stone was when she came back on Thursday evening. It was just before I went home. She did seem distracted. Let me check the book.” He opened a small, leather-bound notebook. Everyone who worked the private front desk made a note of who came and went from the hotel.
“No,” he finally said, frowning. “There’s no record that Miss Stone has been out since then. No one has come to see her either—”
“Fine, yes. Let’s get a fucking move on,” DJ said. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”
Inside the crowded elevator, George swiped his card and pressed the penthouse button for them. The doors slid closed, and the guys rode up in silence, listening to delicate classical music as it piped through the speakers. It was the longest elevator ride any of them had ever taken.
ChapterForty-Three
Lauren screamed as her apartment door burst open, nearly dropping the bottle of juice in her hand. A large splash of liquid landed directly on her grungy yoga pants. All four of her bandmates stood in the foyer, staring at her as if she was completely bonkers.
The first thing out of Augie’s mouth was, “Oh, thank God.”
DJ let out a long low whistle. “What happened?”
She followed their gazes and blinked, everything around her coming into a sharper focus. The apartment was filthy. Clothes were strewn over chairs and on the floor. Dirty glasses and dishes filled the sink. The counters had stains on them. An empty bottle of high-test rum lay on its side on the island with a half full bottle of tequila next to it. And hundreds of sheets of paper—most crumpled—were scattered everywhere.
Lauren’s surprise at her band’s arrival transformed into annoyance, and she scowled at them. “Why are you here? We’re taking the weekend off—giving ourselves some time to chill out or calm down or whatever-the-fuck you guys wanted to do.”
“The weekend?” DJ looked shocked. “Lauren, it’s Monday afternoon. We were all supposed to be at the studio an hour ago.”
“What do you mean ‘already Monday’?” Perplexed, Lauren looked around again. “Must have gotten distracted. I’ve been writing, or at least trying to write. But it’s just more crap.” She gestured at the morass of loose sheets scattered across the living room, covering the coffee table, and littering the floor.
Lauren suddenly felt like she was roasting in a sauna and pulled off the zip-up sweatshirt she was wearing. She tossed it on a chair. It didn’t catch and slid, limp, to the floor.
“Jesus, Lauren. How much weight have you lost?” DJ asked. “You haven’t looked like this since before you checked into rehab.”
Lauren glanced away, tears stinging her eyes, and shrugged. “I haven’t been very hungry…” She yelped in surprise as Augie grabbed her by the arms and spun her to face him.
“Lauren! Look at me!” he said. She tried to jerk away, avoid his worried eyes—she knew exactly what her cousin was searching for: the wild look that said she’d been flying high and was crashing down.
“Augie, I—”
He didn’t let her finish. “Tell me right now, Lauren. The truth. Are you using again?”
She’d been clean for ten years, but that didn’t mean a damn thing—everything could unravel in a heartbeat. It almost had. She looked at the floor, ashamed of what she’d almost done.
“Lauren?” She could hear the fear in Augie’s voice.
“I haven’t used. I haven’t. But… I bought some. Enough to finish everything.”
She looked at them all, but the stricken look on Augie’s face as he tangled his fingers in his hair crushed her.
“After the blow-out at the studio, I wanted to stop feeling so empty,” she said. “Forget what a fucking failure I am.” She started to shake and crossed her arms to hug herself as if she could force the trembling to stop.
“Where is it?” Augie demanded, but Lauren just kept talking.
