Page 525 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

Across the dark water,

early midnight flares in the winter sky.

“Oh, and real quick,” I say, stopping him from taking a step. “Don’t bring up the song.”

Andrew’s head snaps to me.

“What song?”

“Going Going Gone. He hates when people talk about it. Hates the Grammy. Hates being congratulated for it. Don’t ask about it or say it’s brilliant. Don’t say anything. Pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“Allison.” His brows pull together.

“Linc Hendrix is here?”

“And his brother, Ty. It’s their party.”

“What the fuck⁠—”

I pat his chest. “Great. You’re briefed.”

He follows me off the lift, and right into a galaxy of low-hanging Edison bulbs. They cast a golden glow over a long concrete bar, where fur coats and rock stars laugh over the music.

Everywhere you look, beautiful people—supermodels, artists, and designers—huddle under towering patio heaters or draped across crushed velvet lounge chairs around the DJ rig.

Past the main crowd at the far edge of the room, a deck juts out over the roofline, suspended over the cobblestone below.

“Holy shit. Okay, that’s scary,” I mutter, staring at the private VIP spot—black leather couches, a glass-enclosed fire pit, an elite 180-degree view of the Manhattan Bridge.

As I walk up to it, my gaze drops to the narrow metal catwalk leading up to the deck.

I stop in front of the security guard, and not so surprisingly, it looks worse up close.

I wave my hand.

“Okay. Nah… I think I’m good.”

On the other side, Kate sees me freeze.

Then throws her head back with a laugh. “Allison Taylor!” she shouts from the couch, champagne in hand, all blonde hair and emerald slip dress. “Come on!”

Linc leans over the railing, grinning in a black leather jacket. “Look down, Allie. It’s not that bad. It’s kinda sick!”

I look down.

My eyes widen.

I take a step back. “Nope. A fully erected fuck no. See?” I turn back to Andrew. “This is it. This is the Final Destination. Don’t tell me I don’t know foreshadowing when I fuckin’ feel it.”

Andrew’s hand settles at my lower back. “C’mon. You fall, I’m right fuckin’ behind you. We’ll haunt Brooklyn together.”

I glance over my shoulder at him, then smack his thigh. “You said that, and my stomach went bloop.”

The wind blows, whipping up my hair,

taking me a little off balance.

I glance back up as Ty stands.