I nod vigorously. "Yes, yes."
"This is serious, Gigi." Her gaze sweeps up to meet mine. She looks worried. "You can't tell anyone at all about this."
"I pinky-swear. Hey, you trust me, or not? I promise I won't tell. Now spill. What is this about?"
Truth is, I'm terrified to hear it. Is she addicted already? Gone so far that she can't stop?
"So here's the thing." She sighs. "One of my boys is in trouble. He sort of … vanished."
I blink. I so wasn't expecting this. "Vanished? Like … poof, gone?"
She snorts. "Gone, yes. I can't … " Her hand flies to her mouth and her eyes well up. "God, if he's lying dead somewhere … I can't stand the thought, I have to know … We're trying to find him. I am trying to find him."
"But what does it have to do with drugs?"
Her shoulders shake.
"Syd." I scoot on the bed, my heart pounding, until I'm sitting right beside her. "What are you saying? Why are you thinking the worst?"
Like I do with Jarett, but Jarett is in a gang. This is different. I hope it is.
"He got caught up in something bad, and we don't know exactly what. He smokes weed. For medicinal purposes. I thought maybe I could find one of his dealers, maybe someone would know where he's gone to."
Jesus. "And your other boys? How could they let you do this?"
"They don't know what I'm doing."
"Syd, they're your boyfriends-"
"They're not my boyfriends, okay? None of them is. We're friends. And I don't need anyone doing things for me. I can look after myself."
She gets up, and I push myself to my feet in my socks and long sweater. "Wait," I whisper.
"Come with me tonight."
I shake my head. "No, I'm not going out with you. Jesus."
"Please. You know, I … " A breath. "I don't need anyone's help, but I want you at my back, Gigi. I feel better when you're there."
"This isn't a good plan, girl." I let my hands fall on my knees. "And you know it. Going about talking to drug dealers. What do the police say?"
"That he's probably left voluntarily. But I can't believe that. No way. Because he smoked weed, that doesn't mean he's gone underground, shooting himself up with harder stuff, I just can't … I can't believe it. I won't."
God. "Syd, I'm sorry, but I still don't think that's a good idea. And I can't ask Jarett to help anymore."
"I don't want you to ask Jarett! Can't you see? I need to find Kash. He has nobody else in the world, and if I give up, who will find him?"
"Stop."
My fingers curl on my knees. Jesus, she's touching me right where it hurts.
Because if I give up on Jarett … who will help him? If there is any chance, a single possibility of pulling him away from the gang, from that life, and saving him, who will help him if not me?
But this is crazy, right? Thinking of saving Jarett from a life that is his choice-and who knows what this Kash has chosen to do, too?
"What do you say, Gigi?"
"I can't, Syd. I can't go and watch you getting beaten up or raped or God knows what. Hire a private detective to find Kash, talk to your other friends, but stop before you get yourself hurt or killed."
She pulls her hair away from her face, her jaw set. "I won't stop. You know that. I need to find him, find out what happened to him. With your help or without."
"That's extortion," I tell her. "I think."
She cracks a faint smile. "Is it working?"
God, I am so going to regret this. "I will go with you. But I swear, if you leave me and go off getting yourself into danger again, I won't talk to you again. Ever. I'm serious. Is that clear?"
"As day." She straightens her shoulders. "I promise."
"Then it's a go. And … " I squint up at her. "I think it's time you introduced me properly to your boys."
We're all dolled up, made-up and ready to party hard-or so we seem, at least. Ready to follow Sydney into yet another dead-end quest.
What am I hoping for? No idea. Keeping an eye on her didn't work last time. Asking her not to abandon me didn't bring results. This time she told me what's going on, granted, but what does it change?
What does knowing ever change? If Jarett told me why he joined the gang, would it make a difference when his decision is to stay there?
We enter the bar. At least this is familiar ground. We've been coming here for ages, ever since Syd and I first met. It's a noisy place but not seedy like the other bars and clubs Sydney took me the last few times.
That's a relief.
Still, this is a bad idea, and I know it. I could have insisted she stop this stupid course of action and think or another way to find him.
If he wants to be found.
And yet here I am, once again, because this friendship thing really matters to me. Sydney matters to me. We do crazy shit for the people we love, right?
Still a terrible idea.
What if I asked Jarett about Kash? Maybe he knows something about him, or he could ask around. He has connections, that's for sure. And I have his number, like he reminded me.
But this is an even worse idea. Forget about calling him, I command myself. Forget about Jarett, and move on.
Sydney is talking to a guy I don't know, but then I see a girl I know from class, and we talk about the upcoming test in psychology. We wander deeper into the bar, and find two of Sydney's boy harem at the bar, drinking whiskey and talking quietly.
They turn when Sydney inserts herself between them, and I hop on a free stool, waiting for Syd to introduce us.
Crazy that I never officially met them until now, right? When we go out, they usually aren't around. I've seen them plenty of times from a distance, when one or the other pick Sydney up after college, or after a night out.
Weston, Nathan, and the mysteriously vanished Kash.
Both Weston and Nathan are the tall, dark and strong type. They're handsome boys, with broad shoulders and chests, and unruly hair. Pretty hot, if I want to be objective.
But I don't. I can't. Not when every man I meet these days gets compared to Jarett in my mind and is found sorely lacking. Yeah, they don't hold a candle to Rett.
And that's worrisome.
"Guys, this is my best friend, Augusta. Augusta, this is Nathan and Weston."
"Just call me Gigi," I say, shaking hands with the two guys.
"Call me West," Weston says.
"Nate," Nathan says, and both their grips are strong and dry and careful.
Syd sure knows how to pick her men. Even if she says they aren't her boyfriends. She just hasn't made up her mind yet, which one to choose. Seeing these two from up close I understand her dilemma even better.
Hottie number one, Hottie number two, or Hottie number three? How to choose? Problems, problems.
"Want to dance?" Sydney asks, looking very comfortable between the guys. She's leaning against Nathan, resting her hand on Weston's arm.
Yeah, way too comfortable. I wonder what they think about the situation. What they want from her.
"I need to use the bathroom first," I say. "Come with me?"
"Sure." She pats Weston's arm and smiles up at Nathan before sauntering after me and linking her arm with mine. "Let's go."
Does she even realize what she's doing? She's flirting with them both, touching them, and smiling at them. Or is that a thing friends do?
Nah. This could get complicated, if it's not already.
"How long you've been friends with your boys?" I ask her over the music as we head toward the back. "Years, right? How many, six?"
"More."
Wow, okay. "And you're just buddies. Pillow fights and pajama parties and sleeping in a pile like puppies?"
She shoots me a sharp look. "Yeah. Why, what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing." It's just that, in my experience with the world, guys are not girls, and the only reason they'd get into a bed with a girl would be to get into her panties.
We fall silent as we enter the toilets. When I come out of my stall, I can't see Syd, so I go out to look for her, cursing inside for asking her to come with me. Had she stayed with the boys, at least I'd be reasonably sure she wouldn't go out on dangerous adventures on her own.
In the low lights, I look around, trying to spot her among the swaying bodies of dancers, the interlocked couples kissing in corners, the people standing about drinking and talking.
Where is she?
When will I ever learn that things don't change?
I'm about to head toward the bar, see if by any chance she headed back there, when a hand grabs my arm and hauls me against the wall.
My back slams into the plaster, my head thumps back, and I see stars. Quite literally-tiny bright flashes.
"What … ?" I start, panic gripping me, and I start to twist, when I realize who's holding me there. Oh God. "Sebastian."
"You remember me. Interesting."
How could I forget the asshole who tried to force himself on me until Jarett intervened? "Let me go," I hiss, twisting again, pushing at him with my other arm.