Sneak Attack (Tapped Out 2)

Carly sighed. “No, she didn’t want to dance anymore after Tray left.”

If my thoughts had popped into a bubble at that moment, they would’ve consisted solely of a question mark. Then I decided I didn’t want to know. I’d worry about translating Carly-speak after I made sure my boyfriend was okay. How I was going to do that, I wasn’t exactly sure when I didn’t know where he was.

“She went back to her house?” I asked, biting my lip.

That bruise on Mrs. Knox’s cheek was hard to forget. I’d had enough to know which ones reflected power behind the punch.

She hadn’t been given a love tap. That had been a short-armed blow to the temple.

“I don’t know. I guess. Ame, you didn’t fight with Tray again, did you? He isn’t splitting on us, is he?”

On us. Not me. Because Tray had become part of Carly’s family, whether or not she’d realized it before this moment. Or whether I had. As usual I’d been focused on myself.

Shocker.

“He’s not going anywhere,” I said soothingly, not adding the rest of what was in my head. Namely that I’d track his ass down and drag him back one way or another. I had not gone through all this effort to be faux normal to lose the main reason I’d tried.

For him. For us.

That us had kept me breathing when it hurt too much to exist. I’d been waiting for him even before I knew he was alive. If I had to share my air with him until he got his own wind back, then I would.

I’d be for him what he’d been for me. Somehow.

“Okay,” Carly said. “Kizzy and I will be around if you need us to help look or whatever.”

I pulled my backpack over my shoulder and slapped my hand around Carmine’s desk, searching for a pen to write him a note. I was clocking out an hour early. Boo hoo. If I didn’t like eating, I wouldn’t bother taking the time to write him a note at all. But deep down there was apparently a semi-conscientious employee under my façade of don’t-give-a-shit.

“Kizzy’s there?” I asked.

“Yeah. She’s hanging out.”

I could only imagine what that entailed. A quick mental scan of the contents of the liquor cabinet Tray had unwisely brought with him from his old apartment meant I’d probably be in for a long night of holding Carly’s hair back as she puked out her liver.

I’d worry about that later, after I located my missing boyfriend.

After scrawling out a quick, apologetic note to Carmine, I capped his pen and tossed it back on the desk. “Okay. I’ll be in touch. Thanks for the heads up.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Car.”

She didn’t speak, just breathed lightly into the phone.

“It’s going to be okay,” I murmured. “He’s not dumping us.”

A moment went by, then she laughed breezily. “Of course he’s not. If you guys want to bang when you get back, use the shower. I’m nabbing the bed for once.” She hung up.

I shook my head. If I gave my sister an inch, she lapped me and left me in the fetal position on the side of the track.

I tossed a quick explanation to a still grumbling Constance on my way out of the bar. She and Bert, the other bartender on duty tonight, had their hands full with the raucous, post-Yankees-win celebratory crowd. I would’ve felt a little guilty if I wasn’t already angsting over how to find Tray.

“At least take out the garbage on your way out,” Constance whined. “It’s starting to smell.”

A sigh gusted out of me as I set my stuff down. That wasn’t such a huge sacrifice to make. At least I didn’t wig out about trash like most of the other chicks. I even cleaned the occasional bathroom without complaint. It wasn’t like I cared about my manicure.

“Thank you.”

Ignoring Constance, I gathered the bag from behind the bar and headed into the back to gather two more. I wrinkled my nose. She wasn’t lying. They were rank. And it was supposed to warm up tomorrow, so that meant the alley would reek to high heaven.