"N-N-Nixon," I murmured, not knowing much at this point, but knowing he was on the forefront of my mind.
"Nick? Did she say Nick? Maybe her boyfriend? Does anyone know this woman personally?" the hostess asked the crowd.
But they didn't. Aside from introductions. I hadn't been trying to make friends.
"It's okay, sweetheart, the police and doctors will take care of you. And find your Nick. I promise."
I wasn't sure where Michael was at this point, but I heard shouting from the front of the house.
Some time passed before I could hear police, could see faces dancing around in front of me, before I felt myself strapped to a gurney, my body jostling around on the bumpy route to the hospital.
Everything after that was a blur as the drugs took a tighter hold on my system. I knew I was put in a bed, had my blood drawn, an IV was put in.
For the most part, I was left alone as my stomach rolled, as my vision flashed, as everything went numb--blissfully, beautifully numb.Whatever time I woke up, it was with a hangover the likes I had never known. My brain was splitting, my stomach queasy, and I felt wrung out inside.
"Hey."
It wasn't Nixon's voice.
I wanted Nixon.
I vaguely remember asking for him.
But he wasn't there.
Why wasn't he there?
Instead, when my head turned on the pillow, I saw Lo sitting at my bedside, arms resting on her thighs, her long blonde hair pulled up.
"Hey," I mumbled, my mouth weirdly dry, my tongue almost, I don't know, fluffy.
"I know you want Nixon," she told me, reading my thoughts. "I know you are confused and hurting and you want him. But he can't be here. You know why he can't be here."
I did.
Because we were trying to reduce any chance of things getting thrown out of court, because his previous connection to Michael might look suspicious if Michael had people private investigating leading up to the inevitable trial.
"I know," I agreed, feeling a hole spreading inside.
"He's a wreck, just so you know. I literally have three guards on him because he tried to plow through the one I brought with me when I told him what happened."
"He's a good man."
"Seems that way," she agreed, giving me a small smile. "Now, back to what happened to you."
"He drugged me."
"Yes," she agreed, nodding. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't drug me."
"No, but I should have anticipated that angle. There should have been cameras in that room."
"It's not your fault. I watched him," I said, foggy memories trying to come back to me. "I watched him get me a drink, and hand me the drink. I didn't even see him do it."
"It was our job to see it. We failed you."
"It didn't get that far. I don't think it got that far," I clarified, realizing there were big holes in my memory.
"He had your top down and he got your panties off but that was as far as it got. The police arrested him on sight. It's not common that the elite turn on one of their own, but when they all saw it, the mob dynamic thing sets in. We also lucked out in that Olivia and Marvin have cameras in their living room and study. I managed to get the detectives to give me a looksie. It was clear you only had about a drink and a half. And in the room, that you were drugged, slow. It's pretty open-and-shut."
"Good."
"It's all over the news. I imagine... I think maybe you should get in touch with your parents."
Oh, God.
My parents.
I had selfishly considered the fact that they would finally believe me when I proved Michael was the scumbag rapist I told them he was. I hadn't, however, given their reaction to this happening to a second daughter much thought. They had to have been a mess.
"You are going to be discharged in a little bit. I once helped one of your nurses get her children back from her abusive ex, so she let me in here, filled me in. You were drugged, obviously. Unfortunately, it is becoming easier to get in this town lately. You're going to feel like shit today. And your memory might forever be fuzzy. But you're physically fine to go home and rest."
"Alone," I added, hearing the pity in my own voice.
"Well, see," Lo started, giving me a knowing smile, "I think we have worked out that one last kink."
"How?"
"Nixon told us when the two of you ran into Michael on the street, that you said you were friends. In a situation such as this, you would seek out private security. Especially if you know someone in the business. You are going to hire the Rivers Brothers. And then there is an excuse to have them around you all the time. They'd never be able to prove anything else. And I doubt they will even try."