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“I think he’s at the bar.”
Shit. “Okay.”
I step away and head to the back of the restaurant where the bar is located. Danny is right. I spot Bobby on one of the stools, talking to a cute bartender. Her hand is on Bobby’s, and she’s leaning in and talking to him. Quietly.
“Hey,” I say, approaching the two, hopefully before Bobby does something stupid. Thing is, he hasn’t had a drink in over a year, at least not that I know of. But as I watch, he picks up a tumbler filled a quarter of the way with amber liquid.
I must have surprised the bartender, because she jerks her hand out of Bobby’s and says, “Will that be all, sir?”
Bobby turns me to and snarls, “Fucking cockblocked by my own so-called friend.”
“I think you’ve had enough,” I say, taking the glass from his hand and downing the contents. I choke on the bourbon, as the fiery liquid slides down my throat. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, man.” Bobby tries to stand, but ends up back on his ass on the stool. “You fucked up my life.”
“How did I fuck up your life?” I ask, the frustration coursing through me coming out in my voice. Bobby tries to grab for me, but epically fails and nearly falls off the stool again. I snag his jacket and steady him. “Whoa. Chill.”
“Don’t tell me what to do! Do I tell you what to do?” he questions me as spittle sprays from his mouth.
“What’s happening?” a man asks from behind me.
I turn around and see that it’s one of… “Wait. Do I know you?” He’s dressed in the same black attire as the rest of Dean Harper’s security men. But this guy lacks the bulk and height the rest of the bodyguards on Harper’s team have.
“No,” he says, his eyes shifting to Bobby. “I didn’t think one drink would do that to him.”
“This wasn’t just one drink—and who the hell are you?” I ask sternly, now even more aggravated since he never answered the first time I asked. If this man is supposed to be watching over Bobby, the asshole did a bang-up job of not doing it.
“I’m Ben—Ben Augustine. I’m here to watch over Mr. Hicks.”
“Well, you fucking failed. Do you see him? He’s way past the limit,” I further berate the man. “If you were doing your job correctly, Mr. Hicks wouldn’t be in this state.”
“I am doing my job, but I can’t help it that I had to take a piss.” Ben’s face is ripe with anger, which only fuels my own.
“Hey, don’t yell at him. It’s not his fault that you left me for some piece of ass in Korea,” Bobby slurs out. “Ben? Baby, take me to the bathroom.”
“Yes,” Ben says and moves to help Bobby up from the stool.
“I’ll take him,” I quickly offer but Bobby pushes me away.
“Don’t touch me. Ben?” Bobby stands, not so steady on his feet. Ben dips under Bobby’s arm and helps my friend to the bathroom.
I stand there like an idiot, watching the two leave.
“He only had three drinks,” the bartender says as she takes the empty tumbler off the bar top.
“Three too many, for an addict,” I bounce back to her.
She drops her eyes and nods, understanding my meaning. I return to the table, where the rest of my friends are staring at me with questioning looks.
I shake my head and sit back in my seat. None of us sees Bobby again. Later on, I find out that Ben drove him to the hotel where we are staying, so Bobby could sober up. By the time I get back to the hotel myself, Bobby and Ben have left. To where? I don’t know. And the band isn’t telling me either. Talk about a gut-punch.
Chapter Twenty
Lyric
Ihaven’t heard from Rafe for a few days. The last time was the morning of Ron’s celebration of life—though broken, it was good to hear his voice. Since then, it’s been silence.
I want to call him to make sure everything is okay, but something is telling me don’t, let Rafe contact me. A pessimistic part of me, though, is worried that he is ghosting me like I did to him, and the worry is slowly searing itself into my brain. That, added to not even knowing if he’s okay, is making me miserable.
