"Fuck." Ricky gripped the edge of the bar. "Fuck, no. The shelters would have been full by then. He wouldn't have anywhere to go."
Something cold settled in my stomach. "What do you meannowhere to go?"
"I mean exactly that. Phoenix has been sleeping rough for weeks. Sometimes he crashes on my couch, but..." Ricky looked genuinely panicked now. "We've got the baby, there's no privacy, and he stopped coming around because he felt bad about it. The shelters fill up early, and if you don't have money for a motel..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
I thought about Phoenix stumbling out of the hotel in those expensive borrowed clothes, alone and broken in the middle of the night. The image made my chest tighten uncomfortably. "He can take care of himself," I said, but it sounded hollow even to me.
Ricky shook his head violently. "You don't understand. Phoenix isn't street smart, not really. He's been lucky so far, but dressed like that, wandering around at night..." He swallowed hard. "There are parts of this city that eat people like him alive. He had a job up to a year ago, a good one, then he got screwed over and it's been nothing but fast-food places, which doesn't pay for shit here." The knot in my stomach tightened. I'd been so focused on my own anger, my own sense of betrayal, that I hadn't considered what throwing him out would actually mean. Not just inconvenience—genuine danger.
"He's probably fine," I said, more to convince myself than Ricky. "Found somewhere safe to wait it out."
"Maybe." But Ricky didn't sound convinced. "Look, I know you have every right to hate both of us. What we did was fucked up. But Phoenix... he's not cut out for this kind of life. He tries to act tough, but he's just scared and hungry most of the time."
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration building. This was supposed to be simple—catch the con artist, throw him out, move on. I wasn't supposed to care what happened after. I had enough shit in my life without adding more. "Why should I believe anything you tell me?" I asked. "You already lied to me once."
"Because I'm about to lose my job anyway, aren't I?" Ricky met my eyes directly. "You're going to report me to management. So what's the point in lying now?"
He had a point. I studied his face, looking for deception, but all I saw was genuine worry and regret. "The baby," I said, hoping to catch him out in what was a lie. "How bad is the asthma?"
Ricky's expression crumpled. "Bad. We were in the ER twice last month. Medical is covered, but the only apartment we can afford is damp, moldy. The doctor says we need to move somewhere better, but with what money?" He laughed bitterly. "That's why I went along with this stupid plan. Thought maybe Phoenix would get enough to help both of us out."
The irony was suffocating. They'd targeted me because they thought I was rich, when the truth was I had barely more freedom than Phoenix did. My father controlled my finances, my career, my entire life. Even my so-called agent was firmly in my father's pocket. The only difference was my cage was gilded. "I should get you fired," I said quietly.
"I know."
"I should report you to hotel security."
"I know that too."
I stared at him for a long moment, weighing options. Finally, I sighed. "One chance. You get one chance to make this right."
Hope flickered in his eyes. "How?"
"Help me find Phoenix. Make sure he's okay." The words surprised me even as I said them. "After that, we're even. But if you ever try something like this again..."
"I won't. I swear I won't." Ricky was already reaching for his phone. "I can try calling him, but his phone was acting up yesterday. Cheap piece of crap.”
Guilt flooded me.Brokenpiece of crap. The pieces were still on the floor by the bed.
“He doesn’t have the phone on him.”
Ricky's face went from hopeful to confused. "What do you mean he doesn't have it?"
I closed my eyes, the memory of stomping on Phoenix's phone hitting me like a physical blow. "It broke.” Ricky just stared at me.
The guilt twisted deeper. I'd been so focused on protecting myself, on punishing Phoenix for the betrayal, that I'd taken away his only safety net. In a city full of predators, I'd left him completely isolated. "We need to find him," I said, the words coming out more urgent than I intended. "Where would he go? What places does he know?"
Ricky shook his head. "I don't know. He never talks about where he stays when he's not on my couch." He paused, thinking. "Maybe the shelters on Colfax, but unlikely, as I said. Or under the highway overpasses?"
My stomach churned. "I'm coming with you," I said.
"What?" Ricky stared at me. "I can’t go now, I’ll—"
"I’ll handle it. Trust me, this hotel won’t fire you." I was already pulling out my own phone. "I'll tell them I need a barman for a private party." As I typed out a quick message to my agent, who was a useless fucker but would be onboard with this, I tried to convince myself this was just about clearing my conscience. Just about making sure I hadn't inadvertently gotten someone killed over my wounded pride. It had nothing to do with the way Phoenix had looked when he'd asked if I thought he wanted to act like a hooker. Nothing to do with the genuine hurt I'd seen beneath all his desperation.
But even as I told myself these lies, I knew the truth. Somewhere between catching him in my bed and throwing him out into the night, Phoenix had gotten under my skin. And now I needed to make sure he was still breathing.
A girl appeared in a few minutes, curiosity all over her face. “Ricky, I’m here to cover for you.” She held her hand out for Ricky’s apron which he untied wordlessly.
