I don’t know why his message makes me feel uneasy, and I hate that the first thought that comes to mind is ‘what the fuck mess has he got himself into now?’ I exhale deeply as my heart punches against my chest erratically. Jumping off the bench, I snatch up one of the salmon tacos and take a hasty bite.
“You okay?” Caleb asks as I keep my eyes on my phone, reading Keaton’s message more than a few times.
I swallow my mouthful of food, and it lodges in my throat, then I start to choke, my eyes filling with tears, the air in my lungs quickly evaporating.
I’m panicking.
“Help,” I whisper, and Caleb is quick on his feet. This feels like it might very well be my third promised death.
I hate that, for some reason, it favors my lungs.
His large hand claps down on my back, and I find myself sucking in a deep breath. My now sweaty palm wraps around the base of my throat, chest heaving.
“Yeah, you gotta chew your food, Cherry,” Violet teases, then a snort follows.
“What a waste if you’re just going to sit there swallowing it whole,” Cleo says with food still in her mouth. She has a problem talking with her mouth full.
I chuckle roughly, flipping them off as I continue to squeeze the base of my throat.
Resting my free hand over the top of Caleb’s open palm on the counter, I say softly, “Thanks for saving my life.”
He peers over his broad shoulder, his dark curls hanging in front of his eyes when he winks. “No sweat. Your brother would cut me up if I didn’t.”
The statement makes me shiver, though I choose not to give it too much thought.
I give him a shove, and he curls his shoulders upwards, his arms crossing over his chest like he thinks I’m going to smack him or something.
“I just have to make another quick call.” I cough the words out, still trying to clear the now invisible lump in my throat. Edging the counter, I push my phone to my ear after clicking on Keaton’s name. I weave myself through the maze of suede cherry-red couches, sectionals, and glossy black tables toward the stage and pull myself up onto the edge. The call hits his voicemail, and I drop it from my ear, pushing the end button before spreading my legs and putting my aching limbs through a quick round of stretches.
No more than two minutes pass before my phone vibrates off the stage.
I snatch it up and fall to my back as I stare up at the mirrored ceiling, watching my reflection. My bright red wavy hair sweeps over the sparkling stage floor, my cropped black hoodie sitting high around the bottom of my breasts as I hold the phone to my ear.
“Keats, you okay?”
He exhales in greeting. It’s clipped and has me instantly flying upwards. I cradle my knees to my chest when a cold chill rushes through my body.
Something is wrong…very wrong.
“Keats.” My fingers tighten around my phone. I don’t look up from my feet when I hear Caleb’s, Violet’s, and Cleo’s voices fall silent behind me, listening in on the one-sided conversation.
Keaton clears his throat, and when he talks again, I can hear the strain. “Yeah, Blainey, hey.” Again, another nervous clearing. My spine turns ramrod straight. “You know that girl you were friends with at performing arts school… I think her name was Laney?”
I feel my soul leave my body.
My heart stops beating.
My blood turns to shards of tempered glass in my veins.
Please don’t say it.
“B, you there?” Keaton asks when silence kidnaps me.
I swallow. It’s a painful, fucking vile, feeling.
“Yes.” My voice is toneless, my body vibrating through a storm I thought I’d survived,one I’m hoping she did too.
My hand flies up to my mouth as I whimper.
