Carter

Even though it's seven p.m., I show up at San Esteban Suites amid absolute chaos. What seems like a thousand people are crammed into the lobby, at least three quarters of them wearing bright costumes.


It takes me far too long to reach the front desk, where a harried-looking woman asks for my name and reservation number. Once I supply them, she types the info into the computer.

'Oh, dear," she says, her eyes widening. 'There's been a mistake."

Sometimes I really fucking hate passive language. 'Whose mistake? Who made the mistake?"


She gulps. 'We made the mistake, sir. We double-booked your room. There's a convention this week, and…we don't have any other rooms. Let me call some nearby hotels for you and see if I can find you other accommodations." Handing me a small card, she says, 'Feel free to enjoy a complimentary beverage at the bar. I'll work on this and get back to you with news as soon as possible."

'I appreciate you trying to make this right," I say, although the last thing I want to do is fight my way through this crowd to the also-crowded bar.


If San Esteban Suites looks like this, I can only imagine it's the same in every other hotel, motel, and private short-term rental in the county.

The bartender, possibly alerted by the desk clerk, comes right over to me despite the group of costumed people waiting. 'What can I get you, sir?"

'Whiskey, neat." I may as well enjoy a free drink while I wait for my bad news.

'On it, sir."

Moments later, I'm sipping whiskey and wondering if this is truly the worst thing to happen. Could it be fate, again, throwing me into Evie's path? Because Leonard never has to worry about accommodations when he comes to San Esteban. He just stays with Mark, a short hour away.

And right now, Evie is staying there, too.

It's impossible to call anyone in this noise, so I send him a text. Hey, I'm in SE and they double-booked my room. There's nowhere else to stay. How about I crash with you at Mark's place?

Three little dots appear, showing me that he's responding. Then they disappear. Then they appear again.

I know what you're doing.

Sighing, I take a photo of the crowded lobby and text it to him.

It's either stay with you or go back to San Diego, I write. Can't you use my help in SE?

Fuck is the only response I get.

I'll take that as a yes.

I haven't had more than three sips of my drink, so I set it down and return to the front desk. The woman who helped me is on the phone, a panicked expression on her face. I wave to get her attention as she ends her call.

'I've found a place to stay," I say. 'If you would be so kind as to book me a car rental, that's all I'll need from you."

'I'm so sorry for the mistake, sir," she says. 'There hasn't been any hotel with a room?—"

'It's fine, truly. But a car would be appreciated."

'Of course. Any specific requests?"

'Something fast."

I've stayed at Mark's house a couple of times before, on visits with Link, so I find it easily. Once I reach the driveway, I pass another car on its way out. Fearful that I'm going to miss Evie, I look carefully at the people in the vehicle. It's driven by a red-haired woman, with a dark-haired woman as the passenger. It doesn't look like anyone's in the back seat, but the rear windows are tinted.

If I miss Evie, I'll have to come back. I doubt she'd appreciate returning home to yet another guy she was intimate with at Vice.

Then again, she might appreciate it a lot.

Fuck, I need this girl.

* * *

Evangeline

Mom and Chanel are finally gone. Lots of talk of the wedding, and I endured it. Maybe my smiles were brittle, maybe I wasn't as quick to gush over details like venues and music. But at least I didn't cry. I held in tears the whole time, but now that the door is closed and locked behind them, and I can hear their car zooming unbelievably loudly down the driveway, I can finally cry.

I don't cry, though. Too much swallowing back of those emotions, and now I'm just pissed.

'Fuck them," I mutter, punching a couch cushion. 'Fuck them all to hell, I hate them, I hate them so much."

How am I supposed to go to the wedding? Am I just there to feel humiliated and help Chanel feel better about herself? Is that my sole function in their lives?

Sure as hell feels like it.

I'm alone in the house, for better or worse, so I empty out my dad's liquor cabinet and take stock of the offerings. He's not a big drinker, and neither am I, but he has vodka. I can mix it with the cran-raspberry juice in the fridge and maybe dull the too-strong emotions and the tension in my body. Not forever, just for right now.

I skip the cran-raspberry juice for my first drink, and gulp down some straight vodka. It burns, but I don't care. A couple more swigs, and now I'm ready to slow down.

As I'm pouring a healthy amount of vodka into a glass, the doorbell rings.

Not fucking now. If they're back, I'm pretending to be dead. I walk on less-than-steady legs to the front door. That vodka hit me fast. Good. I don't want to make all the right choices anymore. Making all the right choices is what got me a cheating fiancé, a snake sister, and moving back in with my dad.

Now that it's growing dark, though, I take advantage of the peephole in the door. Maybe I'm willing to make mistakes, but not with opening the door to potential serial killers. Or my mom.

But it isn't my mom…it's Carter. Leonard's friend from the club.

No way.

I open the door, but I have no words.

'Hey, Evie," he says.

'Um, hi."

'Carter," he says, pointing at himself. 'We never were formally introduced."

Yeah, because that's not the weird thing about him showing up at all. I can only nod.

'Link said you were staying here, and I also need a place to stay, and…I thought I should clear it with you, first."

'You called him ‘Jaime' at the club," I say. 'Now ‘Link?'"

He shrugs. 'I use both. Sometimes ‘Leonard,' too. It probably depends on the situation, but I haven't really analyzed it. We can if you want."

'No, that's fine." He's fine. Just as hot as I remembered him, with his gray-blond hair and green eyes. He and Leonard should be illegal.

'You're upset," he says.

'Not at you."

'Then, do you mind if I come in?"

'Oh." I blink, surprised that I've left him here on the doorstep. I open the door wider and step aside. 'Yeah."

He doesn't gawk at the place with a critical eye, but moves straight to the kitchen.

'You seem to know your way around," I say.

'I've stayed here before. Whoa. Throwing a party?"

I follow him into the kitchen and see him eyeballing the bottles of liquor. 'Yeah. A pity party."

'You need pity, doll?" He looks concerned.

'Only self-pity. My ex-fiancé just got engaged to the woman he cheated on me with."

'Ouch." He surveys the alcohol. 'You don't need this shit for a pity party…you need a proper night out."

I can feel myself swaying back and forth, thanks to the vodka, so I brace myself against the kitchen island. 'Yeah, okay. You let me know when a fancy new car materializes to whisk me to the city."

He grins. 'There's one out front. Get dressed, doll."