When Tomorrow Starts Without me Page 19

  Given that it's obviously a party, I might be able to blend in. My bra and underwear match, so I can insist that it's swimwear if anyone asks. Maybe I can even get inside and find some actual clothes to put on.

  I reach for the latch and unhook it. The door swings open toward me. I step aside and glance in. Everyone is too busy to notice me. It takes me a minute to build the nerve to step inside, but I do.

  Still, nobody has seen me. I close the gate behind me and tip-toe over to the food table. It's quite a spread, offering everything from chips to several main dishes. I grab some corn chips and stuff them into my mouth.

  My stomach rumbles for more, so I grab some tiny sandwiches. I eat half a dozen of those before grabbing what looks like a pepper wrapped in bacon. It's filled with cream cheese, and it's delicious. I eat several more of those before pouring myself some Mountain Dew.

  As I sip, I glance around. Some of the people are familiar. I think I've seen them at Flaming Combustion's performances.

  Does that mean Rogan could be here? I choke on the pop, but recover quickly before I catch anyone's attention.

  Now that my stomach feels better, I head for the sliding glass door. My pulse drums so loud in my ears that I can't hear anything else. I really don't want anyone to see me in my underwear. If someone does, I'll never be able to show my face around the band again.

  Everyone in the pool is splashing each other, and none of them look my way. The people gathered around the bonfire are all wrapped up in a ghost story some tattooed guy is telling.

  But I still have to get inside and into a bedroom unnoticed. I need clothes, then I have to call Rogan and figure out what's going on.

  Inside, a group of people are gathered around the TV, watching a slasher film. Blood sprays on the screen, and several girls and one guy scream. Laughter roars from another room. Glass shatters somewhere, followed by someone yelling. She sounds like Tiana.

  And there's a big part of what I wanted to know. I am at her party. She has to have something to do with how I ended up outside in my underwear, unconscious.

  Something on the floor sticking out from under the couch catches my attention. It looks like a piece of clothing.

  I creep over and pick it up. It's my dress! How did it end up underneath the couch? I don't care enough to solve the mystery. I just slide it over my head and adjust it.

  Having clothes on never felt better. I glance around and find my purse shoved behind a leather Barcalounger. My shoes are crammed beneath a shelf of DVD's.

  I hurry down a hall until I find a bathroom. My reflection is so horrifying I recoil at the sight. Not only are my arms bruised from top to bottom, but hickies decorate my neck and my makeup is smeared all over my face. Then there's my hair, which is sticking out in every direction and has twigs stuck in it. I also have dirt caked to my skin.

  There's no way I can go out and face anyone looking like this. I lock the door and start the shower. Then I slip out of the dress I just put on. More bruising and hickies.

  I don't want to know what happened. I just want to wash it all away so I never have to think about it again.

  Rogan

  I squeeze Lathe's collar and shove him against the wall. "You'd better get your girlfriend to tell you where Kenna is."

  He kicks me and pulls out of my grasp. "Or maybe you should keep better track of your girlfriend."

  It takes everything I have not to punch him in the throat. "Tiana's the last person anyone saw with Kenna. She's the one who made Kenna's drink. Your girlfriend is the only one who knows what happened!"

  Lathe adjusts his shirt. "Don't blame Tiana just because Kenna went off for some fun. Maybe you should try showing her a better time. And don't grab me again."

  "I wouldn't have to if you'd—"

  "I'm done with this." Lathe pushes past me. "The world doesn't revolve around you. Hell, the band doesn't revolve around you. Get outta my face."

  "Don't bother showing up for practice tomorrow."

  He spins around, his nostrils flaring. "What did you just say?"

  "You heard me."

  "So you think you can kick me out of Flaming Combustion?"

  "You're not a team player, dude."

  His fist strikes me, pushing my head backward.

  I recover quickly, and punch him in the jaw as hard as I can. He stumbles back, grabbing his face.

  Before I know it, we're both on the floor, throwing fists and kicking each other. People are shouting, egging us on to keep going.

  At some point, someone pulls me away from Lathe. I punch the air, trying to reach him. Another guy has yanked him away from the fight.

  Booing ensues. Someone throws a sandwich at the person holding me back. A piece of cheese hits my shoulder.

  "You guys need to discuss this when you're both sober."

  I break free and spin around to see who grabbed me.

  Ashton wipes his brow. "If you guys don't stop, it's going to break up the band—right when we're about to sign with Frost Amberley!"

  I glare at him. "Then talk to Lathe. I'm done putting up with him and his girlfriend. He thinks he's all that." I spin around and raise a fist at Lathe. "You're not! Do you know how easily I can find another guitarist? I wouldn't even have to replace you—I already play better than you."

  Ashton pulls me out of the hall and into a bathroom.

  A couple is making out.

  "Get out!" Ashton flips on the lights.

  They fix their clothes and swear at us, but leave.

  "What's wrong with you?" Ashton glares at me.

  "Me? It's all on Lathe and his idiot girlfriend!"

  "You two have been at odds for a while now, but it has to stop! I don't know about you, but I don't want to put Flaming Combustion at risk. Not now."

  "And you think this is my fault?" I flip my hair out of my face.

  "Yeah. Ever since you started bringing Kenna around, you've been different."

  "No. Tiana's jealous of Kenna, and she's starting all this drama. And you know what? She likes it! That psycho is probably out in the hall eating this up right now."

  "Just pull yourself together. I'm gonna tell Lathe the same thing. You two better not ruin this for me. You'll regret it."

  "Is that a threat?"

  "No. It's a promise." He leaves, slamming the door behind him.

  I spin around and punch the wall. The drywall caves in and cracks. Given that this is Tiana's house, I really don't care. Despite my throbbing flesh, I tighten my knuckles and make a matching indent. Then I throw open the door and march downstairs.

  Laughter roars from the kitchen. One voice rings over the rest. Tiana. She sounds like a dying hyena.

  I storm in and glare at her. "Where's Kenna?"

  She rolls her eyes. "This again. I told you, I don't know. She seemed bored. Probably left hours ago."

  "Convenient, since you're the last one anyone saw her with."

  "You're point? Doesn't make me her babysitter. Talk to Ellis. He goes through girls like I go through rice cakes. I've seen the way those two look at each other when your back is turned."

  If she wasn't a girl, I'd hit her so hard she'd black out for a week. I spin around and storm down the hall, trying to ignore the laughter coming from the kitchen.

  I'm done talking to people. I'm going to search every inch of the house until I find Kenna. Then if I don't find her inside, I'll check outside and then every single car. If she's still missing, I'm calling the cops. Tiana and Lathe can deal with them since they refuse to listen to me.

  I open the first door I come to.

  "Hey, this room's taken!" A couple glares at me from the bed.

  "I'm not going to bother you. I'm just looking for something."

  "Look somewhere else!"

  "Nope."

  They yell at me while I search every nook and cranny using my cell phone as a flashlight. Eventually, they give up and go back to what they were doing.

  Once I'm convinced Kenna isn't in there, I lea
ve the room.

  I freeze mid-stride.

  Kenna stares at me wide-eyed. She's back in her dress and shoes, and her hair is wet. But that isn't what concerns me. It's the bruises all over her.

  I throw my arms around her and hold her as tight as I dare without crushing her. "Where have you been?"

  She clings to me, shaking. "I don't know."

  "You don't know? What do you mean?"

  "I don't want to talk about it here."

  "Did Tiana give you all those bruises?" I step back and stare at her. She's covered, and they appear to go underneath her dress too.

  Some of those bruises aren't bruises at all.

  They're hickies. And I didn't give her any of them.

  "Tell me what happened."

  "I told you, I don't know." Her eyes plead with me. "Can we go, please?"

  My mind races, piecing it together. The drink. Kenna started acting weird after that. "Tiana. She did this—she put something in your drink. That's when you started feeling weird, right?"

  "When I say I don't remember anything, I mean it. I don't even remember coming here. Please, I just want to go."

  "Okay. How are you feeling? Should I take you to see a doctor?"

  Her eyes widen. "No. I just want to go home and put all this behind me."

  I rub one of her bruises with my thumb. "But someone did this to you."

  "For all we know I did it. I blacked out, Rogan. We have no idea what happened."

  I clench my fists. "Oh, I have an idea. Several, actually."

  "Maybe if I can sleep this off, I'll remember. We can deal with whoever it is tomorrow."

  "You'd better believe I'm going to deal with them. And by deal with them, I mean he or she isn't going to be able to walk for a week. If I find out a guy is involved, he's going to be singing soprano from here on out."

  She slides her hand in mine, and we walk out of the house in silence. My ears ring once we're outside. I hadn't realized how loud the music was until now, in the quiet of the early morning.

  Kenna turns to me. "The sky is brighter than before. Is that a sunset or sunrise?"

  "Sunrise. I've been looking for you all night."

  "It's been that long?" Her face pales, and she covers her mouth.

  "You okay?"

  Kenna bolts for a bush and throws up in it.

  I feel like doing the same.

  Kenna

  Rogan snores on the couch next to me. I pull the blankets from my lap and cover him.

  I can't sleep. Whether it's because I slept the entire time I blacked out or because of nerves, I don't know. My mind just won't let me rest.

  No matter how hard I try to remember anything, nothing comes. I've looked online for information about date rape drugs, and it sounds like that's probably what happened. Sometimes people black out like they're in a coma while other people act worse-than-drunk crazy. They only know because someone took videos or pictures.

  My stomach twists in tighter knots. What if someone has images of me? I had no clothes on. Those could be used for blackmail or who-knows-what else.

  Rogan told me that Lathe was threatening him. What if Tiana and him took pictures of me in my underwear to use against Rogan? They might tell him if he doesn't give them their way, they'll post the pictures.

  I don't want to put Rogan's band at risk. Singing is his life. Frost Amberley wants to represent them. This is the beginning of huge things for him.

  As humiliating as it will be, I'll tell him to let them post the pictures all over if they want. I can't be the reason Rogan's dream falls apart.

  I need to get my mind off everything. Worrying isn't going to change a thing. Someone either has pictures, or they don't. No matter what happened, I can't remember a thing. For all I know, I undressed and wandered outside, bruising myself along the way, before falling asleep by the bushes.

  It could be as simple as that. Maybe we're that lucky.

  I lean against the arm of the couch and close my eyes. Despite my mind calming down, I still can't sleep. That was listed as one of the side effects of some of the drugs.

  Even though I can't sleep, I'm still exhausted. I go into the kitchen to see if there's any coffee. I'll take cold, day-old caffeine at this point.

  Miss Alice is hand-washing some pots and humming a tune. It sounds like one of Rogan's songs.

  I clear my throat.

  She turns around and smiles. "Good morning, dear. Are you hungry?"

  "I could use some coffee."

  Miss Alice glances at the coffee pot. "I made that about an hour ago. You want me to make a fresh brew?"

  "No. I'll take a cup of that."

  "Are you sure?"

  To answer, I grab the biggest mug I can find and fill it with steaming coffee.

  "Can I at least get you creamer?"

  I sip some and close my eyes. "No thanks. Black is perfect for now." I smile at her as I head back to the family room.

  By the time I empty the cup, I'm feeling better. Not just more awake, but better about life. I lean against the sliding glass door and check social media to see what people are posting about today. Another pregnant camel meme? Something about Frost Amberley? The rumors have been flying, though the band hasn't confirmed anything publicly.

  I scroll down past a couple boring political stories and then stop, almost heaving on the screen.

  There in full color is a picture of me snuggled up against some random guy on a couch. I'm in my bra and he has no shirt on. The picture only shows our top halves, so it's left up to the viewer's imagination to figure out what is or isn't below the photo. The hickies are all over me, but the bruises aren't there yet. The guy has his arm around me and is grinning like he just won the Super Bowl. His hand is dangerously close to my bra. My eyes are closed, but people are going to say I just blinked—that's more sensational than the fact that I was drugged and unconscious.

  Hands shaking, I close the app.

  I can't let Rogan see this! But there's nothing I can do. The post has over five hundred shares and even more comments. Both Rogan and I have been tagged in it, along with some guy—presumably the guy holding me up.

  What am I going to do?

  Will Rogan believe me?

  What is this going to mean for his future? His dream? He's a rising star, and I've just made a fool of him, intentional or not.

  It looks bad. Oh, so bad.

  I can only hope that the fact that my eyes are closed and I'm not smiling can convince him.

  My phone buzzes with a text. My stomach lurches at the thought of having to face anyone, even through text.

  It's Poppy. She's been my friend ever since we met. Is she still?

  Time to find out.

  Poppy: What the hell happened?

  I wish I can remember. What am I supposed to tell her?

  The little dancing dots show again.

  Poppy: Everyone is totally freaking out. Has Rogan seen the picture?

  I take a deep breath before responding.

  Me: I don't remember anything.

  Poppy: What do you mean?

  Me: I mean it's all one big mystery. I don't remember arriving, just waking up in the bushes alone.

  Poppy: How's that possible? You were wide awake when I took you in to find clothes.

  Me: Huh?

  Poppy: Call me.

  Me: OK. Give me a minute.

  I race up to my room so I don't wake Rogan, then call her.

  "How do you not remember anything?" Poppy answers.

  "According to Rogan, Tiana made me something to drink, then I started acting weird. But I can't remember any of it."

  "You've got to be kidding me!"

  "No! I swear, I'm telling the truth! Don't you believe me?"

  She takes a deep breath. "Yeah, I do. I just never thought Tiana would actually do something like that. I mean, yeah, she's jealous as hell. She wanted to be the lead singer's girlfriend, but basically settled for Lathe when she got tired of being put off by Rogan.
"

  "What's her problem?"

  "She's obsessed with popularity. Haven't you noticed?"

  "Yeah, I guess. I just didn't think much about it."

  Poppy sighs. "It's all she thinks about."

  "What are we going to do about the picture?"

  "Has Rogan seen it?"

  "Not yet."

  "You're going to have to explain yourself before he sees it."

  "Crap!" If my stomach twists anymore, it's going to break.

  "What?"

  "He's downstairs sleeping. What if he wakes up and sees it while I'm up here talking to you?"

  "Then get down there before he can pick up his phone! I'm going to talk to Tiana and see what I can get out of her. If I play nice, maybe she'll admit what she did."

  "Then what?"

  "Then we can clear your name."

  "Okay. Thank you."

  "No problem. I've got your back, girl." The call ends.

  I change out of the dress—I never want to wear it again—and stuff my phone into my pocket before racing downstairs.

  Luckily, Rogan's still sleeping. But for how long? And will Poppy be able to get anything out of Tiana? I can't picture her admitting what she did. Why would she? The only thing she wants is to take me down.

  I wish I knew what I did to make her hate me so much. Yeah, Poppy says it's because she wants to be popular, but Tiana was so nice to me when we first met. She'd been asking my opinion on things and being so nice. Did she figure out that I'm not popularity material? Maybe she discovered I was the girl in school that the popular kids made fun of every day.

  "Kenna?" Rogan's scratchy, just-woke-up voice brings me back to the present.

  I run over to him and throw my arms around him. "You believe me that I don't remember anything at the party? Not getting there, and not anything until I woke in those bushes a little while before I ran into you."

  "Yeah, of course. Why?"

  Tears blur my vision. "Someone took a picture of me. It's online."

  "What? Who did this?"

  "I don't know. My guess is Tiana, but since I can't remember anything, there's no way to know."

  "What's in the photo? I need to see it."

  "No! Please don't look. Please."