Jet—We can talk anytime you want. I’ve got two good ears, and rumor has it I’m a good listener.
Me—Thanks for nothing, jerkwad! Take your two good ears and shove them up your asshole!
Jet—If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here for you.
Me—Fuck off, asshole!
It was Jet. He was the one who sent those caring messages, and all I did in return was curse him out like he was some mugger trying to steal my vintage Louis Vuitton collection.
A horrible clanking noise emits from outside, disrupting my thoughts and sends me to the window. God, if it’s a madman with heavy weaponry, I just might welcome him inside at this point. But it’s no madman with high power weaponry. It’s a nice looking boy with a shirt that readsAl’s Repossecuring lead blocks to each of my tires.
This day just went from bad to bag of shit on fire.
I’m pretty sure my parents will never speak to me again. Tiffany Ikeman has all but issued a restraining order on behalf of the Legal Eagles. I’ve lost all hopes of employment. Lost my car. If this day keeps moving in the proper trajectory, I’ll lose the love of my life.
I take up what few possessions I can squeeze into my backpack and run—quite literally.
Jet
Owen showsup in the middle of one of my sessions, so I let him observe while I finish up a high-heeled shoe on the foot of a WB coed. She’s spent the last forty minutes trying to drill the irony of having a high heel on her body without ever actually sticking her foot into the “fucked-up contraption.” Her words, not mine. The irony might be as rich as her daddy, but it’s above my head. Not for a minute do I think “high heels are degrading or a modern day torture mechanism that keeps women oppressed by societal ideals”—again, her suggestions, not my own.
“You’re all done, sweetheart. You did good,” I say, wiping her down and gauzing her up.
“Ugh! You’re just another sexist pig! I’m not yoursweetheart, and you don’t have the right to patronize me like some two-year-old!” She collects her things in a huff and bolts for the door. “And you’re not getting a tip!”
“If you never come back, that’s tip enough!”
Owen shakes his head with that slow smile of his spreading thin. “Keeping the customers happy, I see.”
“That’s why she’ll be back. Prince Charming here has one more shoe to dole out, sweetheart,” I shout that last bit out the door, and a grunt expels from the entry. “What do you want?” I glower at my old friend for a moment. I’m still not over the trauma Daisy’s parents didn’t mind inflicting on her this morning. It makes my stomach churn to think they’ve been poisoning her mind like that for the last twenty years.
“Jet.” Owen bends over and pinches his eyes shut a moment. “Those Internet rags are at it again. It’s not good. You need to find Daisy.”
“What do you mean I need to find Daisy? What did those assholes say this time?”
“It’s pretty bad. The girls are looking for her. Cade and Rex are helping.”
I pull my phone out and shoot her a text. It hasn’t been our best form of communication, but it’s all I have right now.
Call me, please. I’m on my way home. Meet me there if you can.
“What are people saying?” I snatch my keys from the office, head out the door, and Owen follows.
“It’s that senator. He’s saying they’re still together. That she’s visiting the boys down south while paying homage to the head of state.” He ticks his head, silently asking me to fill in the dirty blanks.
“Shit.” I slam Owen against the building without thinking twice.
“Sorry, dude.” He holds his hands up high. “You asked.”
“I’m out of here.” I take off for the house, blowing stop signs, speeding all the way to Hollow Brook. I spot Owen in the rearview mirror and nod in appreciation as soon as we hit the first light. As hard as I was on him, it feels good to know I’ve got him by my side. Owen, Cade, and Rex have been like brothers to me, like family. I’m glad Daisy has her friends, too. She’s going to need all of the support she can to get through this shitstorm.
Owen and I pull up to the house together just as I spot a whole new shitstorm I wasn’t expecting. Lead locks on all four of Daisy’s tires.
“Crap,” I growl at the sight before speeding into the house. “Daisy?” I run straight back to her bedroom, only to find the drawers opened and sparse, and the bathroom counter has been wiped clean of all her lotions and potions. “No.” I stumble back into the hall. “She’s gone,” I pant, startled and dazed. “Why the hell would she leave?”
“Dude.” Owen tries to coax me back to the living room.
I stagger for a minute, trying to get my bearings, just as Lucky runs through the door.
