Karaoke Guy stops the music. Everyone stands up and starts wildly dashing for doors, leaving their beers behind. I stare at the melee, bewildered.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Nick starts making his way toward me. I just stare at him. “Why are you just standing there? Come on! It’s the cops!”

“What?” I ask. But Nick is already at my side. He scoops me up and carries me outside, going with the flow of bodies scrambling out of the yard through the back fence.

“Geez, Amanda,” he says, setting me down and taking my hand once we’re outside the fence. He pulls me along behind him as we run away from the house. “Are you trying to get arrested or something?”

He straps me into the passenger seat of his Jeep and pulls away from the curb.

“Are you okay to drive?” I ask as he pulls back onto Fourth Street.

“I was drinking soda all night,” Nick says. He glances at me, and I can read annoyance in his eyes. “Unlike you, obviously.”

“Yeah, well . . .,” I start to protest. Then I can’t think of another single thing to say. The world is spinning. I don’t feel good. I can’t see straight. And it’s been a really bad day. First my dad. Now Nick and Kallie. Part of me just wants to go home.

We drive in silence for a few minutes.

“I didn’t know you drink,” Nick says finally.

“I don’t,” I slur back. “Haven’t you heard? I’m in rehab.”

Nick looks at me funny, and I realize I shouldn’t have said that. But he doesn’t seem to know what I’m talking about. He shakes his head and turns his attention back to the road.

“Where do you live?” he asks.

“Why?” I ask suspiciously. He slows at a light and turns to look at me like I’m dense or something.

“So I can drop you off?” he says slowly.

“Oh,” I say. “Right.” I pause and shrug. “The motel. Next to your restaurant. The Star Light.”

The light turns green. But Nick doesn’t move. He’s still looking at me.

“You live in a motel?” he asks.

“So?” I ask. I feel suddenly defensive.

“Why?”

There’s a long honk behind us, and Nick turns his eyes back to road and presses down on the gas pedal.

“None of your business,” I say, mustering as much haughtiness as I can. After all, I don’t have to explain myself to some guy with a girlfriend. Nick starts to say something else, but then he stops and just shakes his head. We drive in silence for a few minutes, until we near the restaurant.

Nick puts his blinker on, pulls into the left lane and turns into the parking lot of the Star Light Motel.