Page 9 of House of Scarlett
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I’ll send a car over right away. Text me your address.”
Bump is standing close enough to me now to hear every word we say. Almost shouting, he says, “I don’t need a car, Zoe. I need to find Gabe.”
I change the call to speakerphone so Zoe can speak directly to Bump.
“Bud, don’t leave. Q was looking for you. He has something to tell you.”
“What?”
“Come back to the club, and he’ll tell you.”
Bump kicks at my rug like a sullen child. “I don’t want to go back to the club. I need to find Gabe. What if they find him first, Zoe?”
“Bump! Stop. The car will be there in fifteen minutes. I’ll see you when you get back to the club.”
“Fine,” he says with a sigh.
I switch the phone off speaker and bring it back to my ear. “Is everything okay? Who wants to hurt Gabriel?” I ask her, praying she’ll give me an answer that will quell the nervous twisting of my stomach.
“Everything’s fine, Scarlett. Thank you for what you did for the club. We’ll never be able to thank you enough. I don’t know what happened between you and Gabriel, but if you ever need anything, call me. I’ll always answer. Send me your address, and I’ll have Bump picked up as soon as possible.”
Before I can ask again, the call drops, and I’m staring at the lock screen of my phone. The lock screen that has a picture of me and the girls from tonight because we looked so damn good before we left, and I had to save it where I could see it.
The girls whose text messages pop up as soon as Zoe and I hang up.
Harlow: If you don’t answer, we’re coming over.
Kelsey: I will kill him.
I tap to open my texts and send Zoe my address before typing out a message to my friends.
Scarlett: I’m fine. He only bruised my ego. I’m heading to bed. Love you, girls.
Kelsey: I want to believe you.
Harlow: She’s full of shit.
Monroe: Meet us at Dolly’s for brunch tomorrow. Noon. I won’t even be late. I promise.
Monroe: If you don’t show, I’ll send a stripper-gram to the store on Friday while you have customers.
Brutal bitch.
Scarlett: I’ll be there. Love you. Night.
“Who are you talking to?” Bump leans over my phone and tries to read the messages.
I shove it in the pocket of my robe and give the belt another tug to tighten the knot. “My friends.”
“The one with the pretty brown hair? Because she ishot.”
He has to be talking about Monroe. “Yeah, the pretty brunette is one of them.”
“I like her, but Q says she’s married, so I have to keep looking. I think Gabe should stop looking, though. He found you. He should be here and not walking the streets.”
“Can we talk about something else?” I ask him quietly. “I don’t think Gabriel would like us talking about him.”
Bump looks at me with a pensive expression on his face and shifts his weight from side to side. “You should come home with me and Q. Then you can see Gabe and tell him he shouldn’t go walking in the night. He might listen to you.”
