Becca indulges as well, making a pithy joke aboutpowdering her nosebefore pinching a rolled dollar bill and inhaling deeply. Her whole body shivers as the hit rolls through her.
“Ryder?” Chris jerks his head at me. “You partake?”
“Nah, I’m good with this.” I lift my glass, drain the rest of its contents, and stagger to my feet. “In fact, I think I’m going to head to bed. Been a long day.”
He’s already back on his cellphone.
“Prick,” I mutter, turning and walking toward the exit. I look around for Lacey, but she’s vanished with her newest boy-toy. Inside the elevator, I close my eyes and lean back against the wall as it descends down to the tenth floor, happy to leave the noise of the party behind. I must be drunker than I realize, because it takes a few minutes of stumbling through the maze of hallways to locate my room, and a few more after that to get my electronic key into its slot.
Finally in my dark hotel room, I strip down to my boxers, toss my clothes into a pile on the floor, and collapse onto the bed. Maybe it’s the whiskey, but this palm tree paradise feels more like hell on earth as I stare out the window at the LA skyline, the never-ending spread of lights swimming before my bleary eyes. The city seems to ramble on forever in the darkness, the air hanging heavy with pollution even at night. The only stars visible here are the celebrities — the haze is so thick, there’s no chance in hell of ever laying eyes on an actual constellation.
Orion or Scorpius, chasing each other across the sky…
Fuck.
I’m officially drunk. The alcohol is coursing through my system like a train with faulty brakes. There’s no stopping its effects, at this point. Stripped of my ability to lie to myself, I’m forced to face facts.
I’m wasted. I’m lonely. And, I fucking hate this place. I fucking hate these people.
I miss my friends. I miss The Nightingale. I missher.
Her face, her smell, her smile.
Without thinking about the fact that she doesn’t even own a phone, I stagger over to the pile of discarded clothing in the corner, grab my jeans off the floor, and reach into the pocket to find my cell. As I fumble with it, there’s a small clatter. Becca’s pills rain down against the carpeted floor, bouncing and rolling in all directions. I stare at them for a second, blinking slowly to clear the fog from my brain before shifting my gaze to my phone.
Zero missed calls.
Zero messages.
Not that I was expecting any. That’s what happens when you burn every bridge that ever mattered to you. There’s no going back.
“FUCK!” I yell, hurling my phone against the wall where it shatters violently into pieces. Breathing hard, I bow my head down to the carpet and close my eyes, trying to regain my composure before I lose it completely.
Get it together, Ryder.
This is what you wanted. What you worked for.
Time to start enjoying it.
When my breathing slows and my eyes open, the first thing that swims into focus is a small white pill sitting innocuously at my feet.A little pick me up, Becca said.
I don’t think as I bend down and pop it onto my tongue.