I shrug noncommittally. Robin was the only person besides Sam in my life who cared about that.
"Do you want me to order something?"
The truth is, I can’t remember the last time I ate. Can’t remember eating at all. My eyes fill with tears for the first time in days. I'm hungry. I nod gratefully at Raphael's idea, and he quickly places an order at a taqueria downtown.
"Dove."
I can't bring myself to look at him. If I do, he's going to see the sadness and despair in my eyes, and I don't want him to acknowledge it right now.
"Dove, I think we should get drunk."
"What?" My eyes snap up because I'm so shocked by his statement. "How's that going to help?"
"You'll forget," he says. "At least for a little while."
Somehow, forgetting seems like a good option right now.
We discover some long-abandoned margarita mix in my pantry, probably left over from one of Robin's visits. Raphael blends ice into the mix and adds tequila, serving us ice-cold drinks in tall mason jars.
Our food arrives soon after. We sit at the coffee table, flicking through Netflix as we eat our fill of the food and drink ourselves silly on the margaritas. I'm glad he came over.
I'm feeling pleasantly tipsy as time moves on, and I keep glancing at my phone.
I've been messaging back and forth with the man – I know he's a man now – who commented on my Instagram profile. We don't talk about my real life, and it's a welcome change not having to discuss Robin or the loneliness, the eating disorder, the obvious depression. But there are no messages from mystery man, and Raphael has surely noticed by now I keep staring at my phone, so I put it away.
I even manage to laugh during our dinner, even though it's barely a chuckle. In a matter of two hours, we're both drunk as fuck.
"You can't drive back tonight," I say.
"I can get an Uber."
"Don't." I surprise myself as much as I do Raphael. "Spend the night. You can... You can sleep on the couch."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." I nod. I am sure. I don't want Raphael in my bed, but I'll be comforted knowing someone's in the house with me. Since that incident with the butt plug – and the thief who stole my bag – I've been feeling unsafe in my own place.
I set up the couch for Raphael and we down the rest of our margaritas. I'm exhausted by the time everything's ready, and relieved to be going to my own bedroom. At the same time, I'm grateful Raphael hasn't made a move on me. I don't think I could reciprocate tonight.
"Oh, I almost forgot." I turn in the direction of Raphael's voice. "I know it's not really your cup of tea... But I thought it could help you get your mind off... you know."
"What is it?"
"I'm hosting an art party in a club downtown. It's called Pulse. They just opened their LA division."
I nearly faint at the name of that club. I still remember my wild nights at Pulse in New York, when I wasn't even legally allowed to be out and drinking. The night I met Parker in Pulse is still so fresh in my mind, even though it was over eight years ago. But there are some nights you just don't forget.
"Okay," I find myself saying. "I'd love to be there."
"Really?" Raphael seems almost as surprised as I am. "You sure? I'd really love for you to be there as my date, but if it's too much..."
"It's not," I manage. "I want to support you."
And I need to start getting over Robin's disappearance.
And I also need to stop calling it a disappearance, because deep down, where it matters most, I know the truth – that my brother is dead.
Chapter 16
Nox
It's so easy to become a part of Elise's life. Call it morbid fascination, or obsession if you want. But when I run into her at a grocery store downtown, I can't help but approach her. My need to remain close to Dove, to stay in her life, is fucking sickening.
Elise is easy. I compliment her dog and the little shit yaps at me, not shutting up for a second while I hit on its owner. Ten minutes later, and I have a date I don't want. How easy it is for her to move on from Robin. It fucking disgusts me.
Of course, I have an ulterior motive. I know about Raphael's little club event, and thanks to the listening device I planted on Dove's phone, I know she's going there with him. They may not have kissed at her apartment last night, but they sure as fuck will at the club. Dove's looking for something, someone, to drown her pitiful sorrows in, but I'll be fucking damned if it’ll be Raphael.