She shrugged. “She disappeared with the drummer.”
“Who’s your drummer?” I turned back into the suite. Hayes was now up, in the living room, in his underwear, looking for his phone.
“Roger,” he sighed. “He’s a good guy.”
“Yeah, they’re all good guys.” I stepped back into the hallway. “Where do you think she could be now?”
“The last text I got from her said she was going home. And I told her to go because I was with Simon and he said he’d get me a ride…”
“But he didn’t.”
“But he didn’t…”
“And you ended up with Liam?”
She started crying again.
I was trying to imagine how it had played out, and every possible scenario was ugly and seemed very un-Simon/un-Liam like to me. But what did I know? How well did I really know these guys? And how crazy was I to have trusted my daughter with them? I excused myself and rejoined Hayes in the suite.
“Desmond isn’t answering his mobile,” he said. “Neither is Fergus.”
“She’s a mess. We can’t just leave her there. Let’s just let her sit in here until her phone charges and she finds her friend and we can put her in a cab and send her home.”
He shook his head, his eyes wide, his hair sticking in sixty-ninedirections. “She can’t come in here. She’s freaking out. I told you I don’t do well with women who freak out.”
“Is she a woman or a girl? Because she looks like a girl to me.”
“She’s borderline.”
“Hayes, that’s someone’s daughter.”
“I understand that. But she can’t come into this room.” He said it with such conviction it alarmed me.
“I’m just going to make sure she’s okay and call her an Uber.”
“Shecan’tcome into this room.”
“Whoareyou?”
“Right now? I’m Hayes Campbell. And I can’t have that girl’s DNA in my room.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Look at me, Solène. I’m completely serious right now. I cannot have that girl’s DNA in my hotel room. I don’t know what happened with Simon and Liam, and I love them like brothers, but I cannot get involved.”
“Fine. Fine. I’ll take care of it. But tell your friends they can’tfuckunderage girls and leave them crying in the hallway.”
His hands were at his head, pulling at his hair. “See. This is why I don’t mess with anyone under thirty.”
“That’s because you have mommy issues.”
He cocked his head. “What?”
“You heard me. Just go. Go back in the bedroom. Go lie down in your own DNA. I’ll take care of it.”
“How old are you? Be honest with me,” I said to the girl, back out in the hallway. She’d eaten off most of her lipstick and I found myself wondering whose dick she’d sucked.
“Sixteen.”
