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Ace studies me with a solemn expression. He understands better than anyone how it feels to be haunted by something like this. He knows what’s at stake. If there’s even a sliver of a chance this could be her, I have to chase it.
Birdie takes her husband’s hand in hers and squeezes it before she looks at me. “Let us help you.”
Ace looks at his wife in question, and so do I.
“If there’s anyone who knows about being on the run and hiding out, it’s my sister and me,” Birdie reminds us. “If she’s here, I have plenty of ideas where she could be.”
She takes a seat beside me, and Ace watches as Birdie peppers me with questions. It isn’t long before we have a plan and a list of places I never thought to check.
Birdie was right. After scoping out a handful of her suggested locations, I find the blue-haired girl down on Fremont Street with another woman. They’re playing guitars and singing for cash, but it doesn’t look like either of them is in the moment. They’re both on edge as their eyes dart around the crowd. Bianca was never that paranoid, and this girl is so thin it makes me wonder if she’s starving or there’s another reason behind it. It doesn’t make sense, but I keep telling myself it’s her. It has to be her.
I watch them from the crowd until she spots me, and then I disappear into the shadows. She isn’t the same for the rest of the night, and I have a sinking feeling she’s going to run. I can’t let her out of my sight, and I don’t. After following her to a convenience store and then to the tunnels, I hang around outside the entrance and listen to their conversation.
Just as I suspected, Bianca wants to leave. They discuss their plans briefly before going to sleep. In a few hours, she’ll be gone if I fuck this up. So I text Ace and give him my instructions. And then I wait.
Chapter 10
Madden
—PAST—
“Did you rob the place blind?” I ask Bianca as she dumps a duffel bag onto the grass beside me.
“I brought water and snacks,” she says. “Oh, and some blankets to sit on.”
I watch her with guarded eyes as she kneels and gets to work, spreading out the blankets and piling up her stash of snacks. What was supposed to be one lesson has turned into an every night thing. Bianca waits until her counselor is asleep and sneaks out of her room to join me. For the past two weeks, we’ve played music until the early morning hours. I haven’t been getting any sleep, but I’m not complaining, either. The more time I spend around her, the less I remember why I thought this was a bad idea to begin with.
I’m not delusional enough to believe it means anything. We’re in a bubble here at the ranch, but it doesn’t change the fact that Bianca and I come from two different worlds. At some point, she’ll go home to that world, and I’ll go back to mine, and whatever thing that exists between us here will be a distant memory for her. She isn’t the first girl to want to test the waters with an asshole like me. But assholes are only fun for a summer, and they aren’t the kind of guy you take home to meet Mommy and Daddy. Especially parents like hers.
Logically, I know all of this. But it's easy to forget when she looks up at me the way she’s looking at me right now. I don’t consider myself easily trapped by a pretty face, but she isn’t just trapping me with those eyes. She’s paralyzing me. Every time she looks at me, I know I’m fucked.
I keep telling myself she’s not my type. Magazine perfect. Rich. Way too nice for her own good. She’s a perfectionist to the extreme, and it shows in her obsession to pick up the guitar as fast as possible. Inside her, there’s a need to please, and it gives me a sick sort of pleasure that she’s trying to adopt me like a wounded puppy she thinks she can save. I’m not going to tell her otherwise.
She bites her lip as she reaches into the bag and retrieves one last item before offering me a nervous smile. It’s a bottle of peach schnapps.
“Where did you get that?” I ask.
“Counselor Susan hides them all over her room in the girls’ bunkhouse. She thinks we don’t know about them, but the other girls are always sneaking in there and replacing them with half water. I was lucky to find a full one.”
She wiggles it at me, and I grab it hesitantly. I’ve snuck my fair share of liquor from my parents' cabinets, but I can’t say I’ve ever tried peach schnapps. Still, it’s better than nothing.
