More determined than ever, I start to root through Alexander’s bar cabinets. I need a cup that will hold a decent shot of bourbon.

“No, c’mon, it’s a small group,” Alexander argues.

The music in the living room hits an all-time high, contradicting him.

“Right, maybe I should rein it in a bit.”

So maybe he’s not completely past saving…

“Your neighbors have probably already called to report a noise complaint,” Jonathan warns.

I turn in time to see my brother groan and push away from the girl he’s so caught up with, hurrying into the living room to turn down the music. He meets my gaze as he passes by, and I do nothing but stare. I might as well be a parent trying to convey that I’m not mad, just disappointed.

“What are you, like a dad?” Alexander’s girl asks Jonathan, clearly annoyed.

And that does it. It’s one thing too far, and I can’t help but bark out a heavy laugh.

Jonathan turns, notices me, and then in three long strides, he’s stealing the bottle of bourbon out of my hand so he can pour himself a shot.

I arch a sardonic brow. “You’re late. I’ve had to endure this party for the last half hour on my own.”

He’s unbothered as he hands the bottle back to me. “You could leave.”

He’s right, I could. I hate shit like this.

“There’s someone I’m waiting on.”

He looks at me curiously, waiting for me to elaborate, but I don’t feel like it.

“C’mon,” I say, nodding toward the hall. “Collette and Harrison are here.”

Once we both have a drink in hand, I lead him toward the sitting room where neither of them have budged. Collette’s chair sits right on the edge between the sitting room and the balcony, and she has it tipped on its back legs so she’s half outside. Her head is tilted up toward the night sky. I want to ask her about Lainey, but it feels too direct, too obvious.

Harrison’s standing behind her chair, working on lighting a joint when he notices us walk into the room.

“The king has arrived!” he says, aiming a dramatic bow at me.

“I’ve been here half an hour, asshole. I already said hi to you.”

Harrison shrugs lazily. “Well then, Jonathan, that bow was for you. Interested?”

He holds out his rolled joint, but Jonathan shakes his head.

He doesn’t even bother offering it to me. I’m not against pot; I just haven’t done it in years and want my wits about me tonight.

Collette takes the joint from Harrison and inhales a short drag before waggling her fingers in greeting at Jonathan and me. She exhales the smoke in a long steady stream then tips her head back and resumes her pondering. I’m almost curious what she’s thinking about.

I take a seat on a couch facing the unlit fireplace, suddenly wishing I had a cigar, something to take the edge off this nervous energy. Maybe I shouldn’t have turned down the joint. My foot is bouncing. My gaze keeps gravitating toward the door as if Lainey could walk by at any time.