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My phone is on the coffee table when Tatum’s name flashes across the screen. I haven't spoken to her since that night when she was here, which is unusual for us. We usually talk daily. I hit the green answer key and bring the phone to my ear.
“Hey you. I was worried. I tried to call you like five times, you haven’t returned a single call. I figured you wanted space.” No response. At first, it appears she must have butt-dialed me somehow. All I hear are muffled noises. “Tatum? Are you there?”
“They're going to do it. I know they're going to do it!” Her words slur together, making it hard to decipher what she’s saying. I bite my tongue before commenting on her being drunk. My only concern is what she’s trying to tell me.
“They're going to do what? What are you talking about?”
“They're gonna kill him, B. They’re going to kill him! I'm so sick of the fucking lies! Doesn't he see the impact this could have on me? Doesn't he care that he’s hurting me?”
I take a calming breath and push down the anxious feeling starting to form a knot in my stomach. Remain calm, at least for Tatum. “What are you talking about? Start from the beginning, and take some deep breaths.”
“Fuck you!” she seethes.
I can’t help but recoil from the bitterness in her tone. “Hey, don't do that. I’m not the enemy here. I just want to help you, and I can’t if I don’t know what’s happening.”
“You want to help me? Then maybe convince my lying asshole of a father not to kill Kristoff.”
Shit. “Kristoff isn’t even stateside, so you have nothing to worry about.” Her fear is rational, but she has nothing to worry about with the asshole completely out of reach. Yet.
“No, he is. Romero found him. He flew back to the states.” A shuffling sound fills the receiver, and then she’s speaking again. “That’s all he does. Lies. He'll tell me to my face that he won't do it, but then he leaves with Romero, and neither of them would tell me where they are going. I’m not dumb. I’m not a child. I’m tired of being seen as some stupid girl, with a rich father who does bad things!” A bitter laugh escapes her.
She's unhinged, and whatever she drank isn't helping matters. I have to talk her off the edge of the cliff because losing her isn’t an option. She’s my best friend.
“You said Romero and your father left. Is anyone else home with you?”
“Don’t play stupid, Bianca. There’s always somebody here, but nobody who actually gives a shit about me. The only reason my father’s men care about me is due to him signing their paychecks. Romero, too. He only stays because my father makes him. No one cares about me. Kristoff didn’t care either. What’s it matter if I live or die?” A sob fills the line.
The sound is soul-crushing, like an animal on the verge of death. I can't leave her like this. She's right. All of Callum's guards might be there, though none of them can help her right now. There’s so much going on, but I need to ensure Tatum is okay. The only thing I know for sure is that: Callum isn't there. If I'm careful, I might be able to sneak inside, sober her up, and send her to bed. I'll get an Uber, so I won't have to leave my car where he'll see it. It's a long walk up to the house, however that's nothing compared to being there for my best friend. She needs me, and her father isn’t going to stand in the way of me being there for her. As much as I dread going there, I can't abandon her.
“Don’t say that. I can’t lose you. Just stay where you are. I’ll come over, and we can talk through this.”
“You… you’ll come?” She goes from screaming rage to trembling fragility in the blink of an eye. I’m reminded further of her unstable state. She didn’t leave me the night Lucas broke my heart, or the night her father killed him. She’s been there to hold me together through all my breakdowns, and I need to do the same for her. Even if it means risking seeing him, I have always loved her way before noticing her father.
“Yes, I’ll be there in a little bit. Hold tight.” I grab my keys and head out the door, navigating to the app for an Uber along the way. The last thing I want to do is explain to my father what’s happening, but I’m a grown-ass woman and my best friend needs me. I’ll deal with the fallout later.
“Do you think they'll do it?” Tatum looks up at me from her bed, finally calm enough for me to tuck her in. I lost track of time, listening to her rant and rave, trying to force water down her throat instead of whiskey. I held her hair back twice so she could throw up, then helped her wash up and change into clean clothes.
