Boy, she didn't take any chances, did she?
I told her, "Fine, whatever."
"Whatever?" she repeated. "Don't you mean to say thank you? I'm doing you a big favor, you know."
If I had any other option, I might've told her where she could shove the phoneandthe favor. But I didn't, so I gritted out the two words she wanted to hear. "Thank you."
"You don't sound very grateful," she grumbled, reaching into her tiny black purse. She pulled out a cellphone and said, "What's the number?"
I froze.Oh, crap.I didn't know it, not by heart. I never dialed Allie's number. Mostly, I just hit her name in my contacts and let the phone dial itself.
I tried to think. I definitely knew the area code, but the rest of it was hazy at best.
The redhead said, "I don't have all night, you know."
Thankfully, Ididknow the number to our apartment, the one we'd shared until just a week ago. These days, Allie was living there with someone new, but the number was still good.
With sudden relief, I rattled off the digits and watched as the redhead tapped them out on the screen. When she finally handed the phone over, I turned away, seeking some semblance of privacy.
She demanded, "Where do you think you're going?"
I glanced back over my shoulder. "Nowhere."
"Yeah, well, see that you don't." She edged closer. "And I swear to God, if you start scrolling through my contacts, I'm calling the police."
Knowing her, she'd actually do it. I could practically hear it now.Hello Officer, I'm calling to report phone-snooping.
But this was no joke. For all I knew, she'd also report me as a trespasser and claim that I'd raided the safe or something. A place like this surely had one, right?
Trying to ignore her, I listened intently as the apartment's number rang once, and then twice. I held my breath. On the third ring, it went to voicemail.
Shit.
Probably, Allie was just sleeping, that's all. Praying that she'd get the message sooner rather than later, I said in a rush, "Hey, Allie, it's me. Um, Cassidy."
I gave a mental eye-roll.As if she didn't know.
I continued. "Anyway, I'm in a bit of a bind, but you probably knew that already, huh?" I tried to laugh. "After all, youdidtell me I was making a huge mistake. But the thing is, I'm hoping – praying actually – that you might be able to come down here and get me." I paused. "Like now."
I took a deep, shuddering breath. "And just so you know, I'mreallysorry to ask, and I swear I'll pay you back – for the time and the gas and everything. Just call me as soon as you get this, okay?"
These final words made me realize something, and I felt the color drain from my face.Oh, crap.
She couldn’t call me.
I blurted out, "Wait, forget that. I don't have my phone, so just come here and we'll talk then, okay? I'm at…" I looked to the redhead and asked, "Do you have the address? To this house, I mean?"
She gave an irritated sigh. "It's 432 Beachview." Frowning, she demanded, "And just how long will it take for your ride to get here?"
Oh, about ten hours.
I held up a finger and returned my attention to the phone. "In case you didn't hear that, I'm at 432 Beachview. Well, technically, I won't be here-here, because I need to get going, but I'll be around." In a burst of inspiration, I added, "I think there's a public beach nearby. I'll just hang out there 'til you get here."
If you get here.
I might've said more, but a familiar beep informed me that I was out of time. And I didn't dare ask the redhead for a second call, especially because I needed another favor.
As I handed back the phone, I said, "If you see Jax, could you please tell him to call that number, the one I just called?"
