17. Day Two The Big Easy Isnt.Easy
Day Two: The Big Easy Isn't...Easy
It usually took Jase a minute or two of his eyes adjusting to a new room to remember where he was and how he got there. A quick inventory told a disappointing story.
Cotton mouth, dull headache, empty bed, no keys on the nightstand. He tripped over a pile of empty bottles beside the bed, and it all came together.
Dad. Tattoos. Six-pack.
Shit.
He was still in Alabama, still at the whim of a box full of maps, and still traveling with Graham.
Jase brought the last warm Bud into the shower with him to kill his thirst and dull the ache behind his eyes that never seemed to go away, then pulled on yesterday’s clothes and checked his phone for messages.
Nothing. He didn’t expect to hear from Denise. Their break had been clean. Chloe? No, he wouldn’t hear from her after the way he left things. California, the morning after his dad passed, had gotten messy. A little too real.
He would miss the tit pics, among other things. Just how many other things hadn’t sunk in yet.
Jase pocketed the phone and went out to knock on his brother’s door. There was a thump and a curse inside before Graham appeared in his boxers.
“Close the door, close the door,” he said, shielding his bloodshot eyes from the morning sunshine.
Lindsey wasn’t kidding about the smell. There was a funk beyond the layers of cigarette smoke saturating the furniture. Was it mold? A decaying body? An actual metalhead orgy? And the unmistakable reek of whiskey leaching from Graham’s pores.
Jase left the door open a crack and grinned. “Hungover, princess?”
“Piss off,” Graham said.
“Thought you wanted to be on the road? It’s pushing ten.”
“Yeah, well, things aren’t going very well this morning.”
Graham meandered to the sink at the back of the motel room to splash water on his face.
“I can tell,” Jase said. “What’s the plan? Where’s Lindsey?”
Graham stood up straight. “She’s not with you?”
“You serious? Why would she be with me?”
Graham blinked, shook his head. “I thought you were friends now, after all that shit yesterday.”
“How much did you drink last night?”
“Enough.” Graham rubbed the crust from his eyes. “You really haven’t seen her?”
“No.” Jase laughed. “Hey, what if she really left your ass?”
It was funny until Graham’s face blanched, and Jase noticed there wasn’t a trace of a woman—no clothes, makeup, or luggage—in the motel room.
“Oh, shit,” Jase said.
Graham stumbled back into the sink. “She wouldn’t.”
“Was she here this morning?” Jase asked.
“No. I woke up and…no. She wasn’t here.”
“What about last night?”
“Yeah, she was. I think so.”
“You think so? Or she was?”
“It was dark, and I was drunk. I passed out. But I’m pretty sure she was here.”
“How sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
He didn’t look sure. Graham grabbed yesterday’s shorts off the floor, pulled his phone from the front pocket, pushed a few buttons, and put it to his ear.
“Voicemail,” Graham said, ending the call. “You don’t really think…?”
“Hey, she’s your girlfriend,” Jase said. “You should know.”
“We’re miles from home. What would she—”
Graham’s eyes bulged and he ran to the bathroom, hollering for Jase to check the car as he collapsed over the toilet.