Page 137 of More For Me

Everly

Bodhi doesn’t come home that night. I wait up on the couch until after three and don’t see a sign of him. After a few hours of tossing and turning, I finally manage to fall into a fitful sleep just before dawn. I dream I’m standing on the dock at Echo Park, watching while Bodhi pedals his swan boat farther and farther away from me. I wake up with a start, my heart pounding.

My phone chimes on the nightstand and I fumble for it, nearly knocking it to the floor in my hurry. I’d texted both Nisha and Leo when Bodhi still wasn’t home by midnight, but they must have already been in bed, because I didn’t get responses.

There are three waiting now.

Leo:Haven’t seen him. Everything okay?

His sister’s message came in earlier, around five am.

Nisha:He isn’t at home?

And then another, an hour later.

Nisha:I talked to him. He’s okay.

Well that’s an entirely unsatisfactory message. He’s okay?Okay?Where in the hell is he? Where did he spend the night if not at his sister’s or Leo’s?

I hop out of bed and pad down the hallway to peek into his room, crossing my fingers that he managed to sneak in while I was asleep. But it looks exactly the way it had last night, covers neatly tucked in, his school bag still tossed on the end of the bed.

I look at the phone clutched in my hand, debating whether or not to call Nisha. I’m desperate to find out what he said to her, but it feels wrong to talk to Bodhi’s sister before I know what he’s thinking. Besides, what am I going to say to her?Your brother dumped me outside of a high profile, celebrity-filled event and there’s probably going to be pictures of us on entertainment blogs. How was your night?

Before I can make up my mind, the phone rings and my stomach immediately sinks when I see my dad’s picture light up the screen. Not Bodhi.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Morning, Lele. You almost here?”

“Here?”

There’s a pause. “At the studio? For the photo shoot?”

Oh,fuck. I totally forgot. I’m supposed to be styling the entire band for a feature in Rolling Stone about the new music department at USC.

“Daddy, I’m so sorry,” I say, darting back to my room. “I slept in.”

He chuckles softly. “That doesn’t sound like you. You always drive your sisters crazy dragging them out of bed first thing.”

My heart clenches and I feel a pang of yearning for the girls. What I wouldn’t give to have woken up at my parents’ today, to get one of Vega’s sweet hugs or cuddle up on the couch with Santana or Pres.

“I’ll be there in half an hour, okay?” I manage, hoping he doesn’t notice the catch in my voice.

Yeah, right.

“What’s wrong?” he asks immediately, going straight into over-protective Dad mode. Really the last thing I need right now.

“Nothing. I’m just upset with myself. I can’t believe I’m running this late.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line, and I know he’s debating whether or not he believes me. Finally, he clears his throat. “Don’t worry about it, Lele. These things always take a while to get going. Your Uncle Cash won’t even be conscious until he has at least two more cups of coffee. We have plenty of time.”

“I’m on my way now,” I say, rifling through my closet for something at least slightly presentable.

“Don’t rush,” he says firmly. “I want you to drive carefully.” Another pause. “Why don’t I send a car for you?”

In spite of the sick feeling in my stomach and the ache in my chest, I manage a smile. So typically my dad, always over the top, always just a little too protective.

“I can drive. I’ll see you in a few, okay?”