Page 109 of Wright Together

“Hey, this Eve?”

“Yeah. Yes. Have you heard from Bailey?”

“Sorta. She texted me from a new number and invited me to some party.”

I blew out a breath of relief and horror, all mingled in one. “What party?”

“Some house party in the country. I didn’t know if I should call you. You were pressed earlier.”

“Yes. Thank you so much for calling. Can you send me the address?”

“Uh…” He paused, as if searching his messages for the address, then added, “You going to get me my two hundred dollars back?”

“Of course,” I said through gritted teeth. “Not a problem. As soon as I find Bailey.”

“Bet.”

He sent the address in a text to Bailey’s phone. I thanked him profusely and then hightailed it out of the parking lot I’d been camped out in.

As Trevor had described, the house was in thecountry. Even for Midland, which was known for its sparse housing and backwoods locales, this was the middle of nowhere. The house was two stories tall, surrounded by oil rigs on all sides. And it was hopping.

I could hear the music from the street. Bright lights were bouncing around inside like a rave. And I had to park in a field nearby because there were so many cars. We were far enough away from civilization that the cops wouldn’t bother with it. No neighbors to issue noise complaints.

This was going to suck.

And there was nothing to be done for it.

I tied my hair up into a ponytail, threw both of the phones into my purse, and headed down the street toward the house. I didn’t look like a teenager, but I was still young enough not to look like a typical adult. I was glad that I’d changed into something casual for the drive—jean shorts and a tank top with white tennis shoes.

When I stepped into the house, I was assaulted by the smell of beer, weed, and vomit. I refrained from gagging, feeling a contact high imminent. There had to be over a hundred people inside. More than half with red Solo cups in hand, dancing to the music, and the rest in various stages of undress, hooking up. I had no fucking clue how I’d find Bailey in this.

Still, it was my mission. Thanks to Trevor, I actually had something to go off of. It was my only lead.

I gazed around the living room but didn’t see any sign of Bailey. All the people I asked said they didn’t know her. Great.

Likewise, she wasn’t in the dining room or the office space. A bunch of drunk bros tried to cajole me into doing a keg stand in the kitchen. A girl looked like she was drowning under an upside-down margarita.

“Hey, have any of you seen Bailey?” I asked one of the guys by the keg.

“Bailey?” guy number one asked. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was drunk.

“Yes, Bailey Houston. Have you seen her?”

“Haven’t seen her,” guy number two said.

“Bet she’s upstairs with Xavier,” guy number three said.

Xavier.

I felt sick to my stomach. Of course she’d gotten involved with that bastard again. She’d refused to rat him out to the cops, and even when I provided evidence that he’d been dealing, somehow, he had gotten out of it. Something to do with his daddy working for the force. I hated him with every fiber of my being.

“Said he was going to rail her on the balcony,” guy number four said.

“Oh yeah,” guy number one said.

They all high-fived like they weren’t disgusting degenerates.

“Thanks,” I said before muttering, “I guess,” under my breath.