He jerks up, almost head-butting me in the face as he does so, and I wave the phone in front of his eyes.
“Junior,” I say, shoving it into his hands.
“What the fuck,” he mutters, and answers on speakerphone. He sits up, planting his feet back on the floor and brushing the messy hair out of his eyes. “What?”
“It’s Junior,” says the voice at the other end of the line.
“Yeah, idiot. I know.” He rolls his eyes at me. “Shouldn’t you be eating canapes and caviar? Why are you calling me?”
“You’ve got to come get Landon,” Junior says.
Eli’s eyes snap to mine at Junior’s frantic tone. Surely, Landon wasn’tactuallyattacked by a mob of horny socialites. When an image of him on the floor covered in pink, glittery lip gloss flashes through my head, I can’t help but cringe. “Why?” Eli asks.
“Well, he said he had a headache,” Junior starts, and Eli and I stare at each other, waiting for him to elaborate. He doesn’t.
“And?” Eli prompts.
“And he has seasonal allergies, you know? So, I gave him a couple allergy pills…”
“Not seeing the issue.”
“Well, he started acting strange, and now I’m starting to realize that maybe I didn’t give him allergy pills.”
“What was it?” Eli asks.
"I think it might have been Ambien.”
Eli groans and covers the microphone. “And they say I’m the family fuckup,” he says to me, before releasing his hand. “You fucking dipshit. What are you doing walking around with Ambien in your pocket?”
“They were in the tin with the rest of the pills, I don’t know. I thought it was Zyrtec.”
“Only you would walk around with a box of pills.” He sighs. “Fine. I’ll come get him. Make sure he doesn’t walk into oncoming traffic before I get there.” He hangs up the phone and scrubs his hands down over his face. “JesusChrist.”
“What happens when you mix Ambien and alcohol?” I ask, recalling the generous pour of bourbon Landon downed before he left. I’m sure he’s had more at the venue.
“Nothing good. Let’s go.”
Following Eli’s lead, I shove my feet into a pair of sandals and hurry out to his truck. The hotel hosting the gala isn’t too far, but the drizzle coming down is causing more traffic than usual, and the ride takes longer than anticipated. By the time we get there, it’s full-on raining, and Eli slows the truck to a stop under the hotel awning.
There’s a small group of people standing outside the entrance, smoking and drinking in their formal attire. Landon’s not with them, though. No. We spot him on the opposite side, sprawled out on a bench with his eyes closed, his head leaning back against the brick wall. There’s a gorgeous blonde beside him, dressed in a floor-length gown with a slit so high I’m actually curious how she walks in it without flashing the entire world. She’s murmuring something to him while she strokes his arm, and I get this weird twisty sensation in my stomach.
Junior is nowhere in sight.
Eli and I hop out of the truck, ignoring the strange glances from the formal group as we hurry over to Landon.
“No offense, but who the hell are you?” Eli asks the woman as we approach.
Her eyes shift between us, lingering too long on the man beside me, before settling on me with barely concealed judgment. I want to tell her it’s unnecessary. I am aware I look like shit in my ratty ten-year-old sweatpants and oversized Green Haven High t-shirt that’s been through the wash a million times and not a thousand-dollar dress from Saks.
“I’m Penny,” she tells Eli in a tone that implies that should mean something to him. “Junior told me to stay with him.”
“What a fuckup,” Eli mutters, glancing around for a sign of the missing Blair. With no luck, he turns back to Penny. “We’ve got it from here, thanks. Run along.”
Penny looks taken aback by his dismissal. “I told Junior I’d stay with him, though.”
“I don’t care. I’m his brother. You can go.”
She frowns, her glossy bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “I really think I should stay.”
