One more sip and I’m officially entering “drunk” territory.
“Come—” Hiccup. “—here.” Lacey lures me in closer, her breath thick with alcohol. “We have a guest house out back. The key is under the mat. Use the bathroom in there.”
“You’re the best.” I immediately tear through the crowd in search of the door leading to the backyard. I find it fast enough but spend five minutes looking for the damn key under the mat to the luxurious guest house.
It’s almost pitch-black outside. Lacey’s house is isolated from others, located by the woods and a creepy hiking trail I know kids love to walk at night to scare each other. There are also old, abandoned railways around here.
I eventually find the key to the guest house inside a decorative plant and head out when I’m done, making sure to lock the door. I’ve just placed the key under the mat when I hear two people arguing.
“A payment plan? Who the fuck do you think I am? A bank? A fucking charity?” a man spits aggressively, and in any other scenario, I’d run back to the party, but…
The voice I hear next roots me in place.
“I told you I’ll get you your fucking money.”
That voice.
It belongs to Finn.
What the hell is he doing back here?
That’s what Lacey meant, isn’t it?
When she said the guys went to settle a debt? Finn owes someone money. He must’ve gone and tried to convince that someone earlier. I take it the guy coming back for round two means it didn’t go over so well.
Is Finn buying drugs? And how in the hell is the son of a millionaire in debt in the first place?
Hesitant, I peek from around the corner of the guest house to see better. I spot two silhouettes under the moonlight, one I recognize as Finn’s and one belonging to the sketchiest guy I’ve ever seen.
The stranger is wearing shabby jeans, a black hoodie, and a stalker baseball cap. He’s shorter than Finn by at least four inches and looks like he hasn’t showered in months.
“Do you think I don’t know where you live?” Sketchy Guy threatens. “That I don’t know Daddy’s swimming in cash?”
Finn seems to decide the conversation is over because he throws the beer in his hand back for a sip and turns to leave.
Sketchy Guy is not having it. “She’s cute. The girl you pulled up with—black hair, tight little body. Good choice.”
He saw me?
It dawns on me instantly.
Is that why Finn didn’t want me at this party?
Because he knew he’d have… company?
“She your girl?” Sketchy Guy hounds, but Finn carries on walking. “What do you say I pay her a visit and take what you owe me?”
Finn stops instantly.
Next thing I know, he’s tossing his beer onto the grass and charging back to the creep with such speed that his “dealer” backtracks into a tree.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” Finn grits out, the darkness in his voice shaking me to my core.
“Damn, struck a nerve, didn’t I?” Sketchy Guy snorts. “So she is your girl?”
Finn remains quiet for a moment.
“House sitter,” he admits.