“Oyster shooters.” I blurted. “I love them.”
He scrunched up his nose. “Fine, and you want some shrimps on your salad.”
“Did you just say shrimps?” I giggled.
He tossed the menu onto the table. “That’s what they are.”
“Shrimp is both singular and plural.”
“And yet, shrimps still sounds bad ass.”
“In what universe?”
“Mine.” He chuckled. “The only one that counts.”
“Such a true and sad statement,” I teased, finally pulling my hands free from the mummified blanket tying compliments of Zane. “Also I want a diet coke.”
“I’m ordering you real coke.”
“Like the drug?” I gasped.
“Very funny.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve never actually done coke or any other drug thank you very much.”
“Marshmallows.” I coughed.
He flipped me off then reached into his pocket.
And paled.
“What?” I was still grinning. “What is it?”
He bit out a curse. “I forgot marshmallows.”
“O…kay…” I drew out the word slowly. “And?”
He curled his hands into two tight fists as his body began to shake.
“Zane, that’s not funny.”
“Do you think I’m trying to be funny right now?” He bit out, knocking his chair backwards as he stood on wobbly legs and then drunkenly stumbled down the rocky path.
“Wait!” I ran after him, tossing the blanket back onto the chair, he was walking like he’d just taken a hit of some drug.
“Zane!” I pleaded catching up to him and grabbing his hand, he didn’t squeeze it back—he always squeezed it back, but his hands were clammy, freezing. And when he looked at me, it was as if he lost complete focus. “Hey, hey, let’s just walk back okay? You’re fine.”
His nostrils flared, but he managed a small nod before leaning at least half his weight on me. It took a crazy amount of effort not to zigzag while I walked; he was at least sixty pounds heavier than me, and on top of that, he was mumbling curses under his breath, which wasn’t at all helpful in our current situation. The more he talked, the more freaked out I became. He wasn’t making sense at all.
“Tell me about…the song.” I said quickly.
“Songs,” he whispered. “I know you’re trying to help.” He bit out another curse and stumbled. “Sorry, I’m just…it’s not. Helpful. I need marshmallows.”
“Okay.” I gulped. “We’ll get you marshmallows.”
“Like a child.” He sounded disgusted with himself.
As we rounded the corner, I could see the house up on the cliff, we needed to do a bit of a climb once we reached the stairs.
“HOLY SHIT!” a girl yelled. “IT’S ZANE ANDREWS!”
Zane froze; the look he gave me was beyond pathetic.
I didn’t know what to do.
I quickly looked around us. The girls were in the parking lot near one of the hotels, we couldn’t hide in the bushes by the beach. We could make it as far as the stairs but….
“Give me your phone.” I pleaded while still trying to lead him, this time faster to the stairs.
Zane didn’t answer, if anything he paled more.
“Frick.” I reached into his pocket and prayed his phone wasn’t password protected and quickly scrolled through the last few calls, praying Jaymeson would be one of them.
He was.
I pressed the green button. “Zane, we need to go NOW.”
He was moving faster, but still heavy, still talking nonsense, still about two steps away from looking like he was going to collapse and start rocking back and forth.
“Hello?” Jaymeson answered on the second ring.
“Something’s wrong with Zane!” I yelled. “No marshmallows and girls are chasing us, and I’m on the stairs and—“
He hung up on me.
Well, that worked out well!
“Zane,” I shoved his phone in my pocket, “We have like five flights of stairs and the girls are running at us, I need you to do me a favor.”
His breathing was heavy as he leaned against me and nodded. “Okay.”
“Think about your marshmallows.”
His smile was faint.
“The sweet taste, the way they smell, the way they calm you down, think about your marshmallows. Because if those girls catch us you’re probably going to get taken advantage of, and any hope of seeing more marshmallows disappears right along with your dignity, alright?”
His breathing slowed, and then he locked eyes with me. “Alright.”
“Good. Now. Run.”
Hand in hand, we jogged up the stairs, he continued to stumble, and then I saw not just Jaymeson at the top of the stairs but Alec and Demetri Daniels, and Lincoln Greene.
In the back of my mind, I had a minor freak out, I mean the guys were all so famous I should be terrified. Instead, it was like Zane’s family had just arrived and were going to unleash hell. They all looked pissed, but not at me.
“Almost there.” I ushered Zane forward until finally, we both collapsed in a heap on the grass just below the beach house.
Alec turned around and motioned to two huge dudes who made their way down the stairs and stood, arms crossed.
Bodyguards?
Duh! Why didn’t Zane just take his bodyguards? Unless they weren’t his?