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Striding over to where he was seated, I noted he looked like shit. His usually bright and lively demeanor seemed to have been sucked out of him, replaced by an expression of exhaustion and anxiety etched into every line of his face. His eyes were sunken and dull, with dark circles underneath as though he hadn't slept in days. His shoulders sagged with weariness as he sat at the table.
What the fuck was going on?
I’d just lifted with him a few days ago—or was that last week? A slash of guilt hit me…I’d been a bit preoccupied lately with Monroe.
“Hey, Lancaster, why’d you start the party without me?” I joked as I slid into the seat across from him.
His lips barely twitched…and I got even more worried.
His phone was lying on the table, a vaguely familiar looking woman on the screen. Had Monroe pointed out her picture on a billboard recently?
I glanced at Ari expectantly and he met my gaze, reluctantly it seemed.
“I just wanted to tell you before the news breaks tomorrow, Linc.”
“Tell me what?” I asked, confused and anxious for what he was about to say.
“I’ve asked to be traded to L.A.”
