EPIC (Book 1 of the Soundcrush series)

Chapter 29: Rock Stars Speak in Metaphor

Trace

As soon as Kat and Tamara leave, Riley is all business. He turns a chair around and straddles, gesturing for me to sit. I take this as a good sign and plop down, leaning forward eagerly.

"Tell me."

"The PI in Atlanta has a hit. Ashlynn rented a car."

"Fuck," I groan. "She does not need to be driving around Atlanta, out of her mind high."

"He wants to know where you think she might go."

"Away from Atlanta," I say. She hates it there. I can't believe hasn't hopped the first plane to anywhere.

"He's got a monitor on her cards, and he's looking into bribing someone at the car rental place for info on the car's GPS location. That's a delicate situation. He says it has to be approached with care—may take a couple of days. While he's working on that, he wants to check around with her old friends, just in case she's reached out..."

I leap up and pace around, trying to recall names and faces from my old high school days. Riley takes a list of of some girls she used to hang around. Finally, I consider the one reason she might be hanging around Atlanta—the one person that might help her not feel for me. "She had a boyfriend, too. Real serious. Cameron Martin. He should be easy to track down. Big high school football star, went to Duke with Ashlynn. He's in med school somewhere. Emory, I think. Tell the PI to check with him first."

"Got it," Riley says, adjusting his glasses and texting frantically. When he's finished, he crosses his arms and looks up at me. "He'll find her. If he doesn't, we've got investigators scanning for her in New York, Chicago, Miami, LA, Denver, everywhere she's been known to frequent."

"Add Raleigh. And maybe..." I wrack my brain for anywhere else she might go. "DC...she likes museums."

I remember last spring, the only thing she wanted for her twenty third birthday was an incognito trip to the Getty in LA. She didn't want to spend her birthday alone, or stuck in the house. Ashlynn and I never went anywhere in public together, but it was her birthday and she was working so hard at staying healthy—I really wanted to celebrate with her. We did it up right. Hide-in-plain-sight. Tamara did a great job of making us both unrecognizable. We went totally Scene. Ashlynn looked surprisingly cute with peacock blue hair and a prison striped skater skirt and purple tights. I looked like an absolute douche with jet black hair hiding half of my face, but Tamara is good—no way did it look like the wig it was. I actually liked the make-up that completely obscured my identity—I told Tams to take pics and we would pitch it for some future video.

Riley is looking at me oddly. "Trace, have you given much thought to what happens when we find her?"

"I just have to find a way to make her see...she needs to come home to LA and get better. I'll beg, I'll wheedle. I'll talk her into it. I know I can. I did it before."

"I know it's none of my business, but I think you need a different approach, mate."

"Now is not the time for tough love, Riley," I run my hands through my hair, "She is...in a vulnerable place right now. Much more so than before. She's confused. She thinks she has feelings for me. Like, all of the sudden."

Riley sighs and leans his chin on the chair back. "Blimey, you're such a prat, Trace. She's been in love with you for ages. Since last spring. And it's all your fault."

"What the fuck do you mean, it's all my fault?" I'm indignant. "I didn't do anything but try to help a friend."

"Just like I said. It's all your fault." He waves his hand at me with a look of distaste. "You and your charming Lancelot in Leather mojo. You picked up her up out of the gutter. You saved her. You fixed her. You made coffee and dinner and music with her. And the way you fucking looked at her when you thought she wasn't aware..."