Chapter Ten

Elliot
 Think I'd walk into this unprepared? Guess again. I had devoted some of my free time to looking through the Teen Sweets employee database. I knew the names and faces of everyone there, and I'd checked out all of them. For the most part, everyone was clean.

Well, except for the mail clerk who had filmed himself banging his girlfriend in the conference room after hours. Somehow the video got e-mailed to Jill Hartman, who promptly fired him.

I lingered along the outer fringes of the party-goers, keeping a watchful eye as Jill introduced Cherie to several people. So far so good. The right people were crossing Cherie's path. She was still enjoying the champagne a little too much. I worried about having to bail her out of a situation if it continued.

Just then, as Cherie was being introduced to the head of marketing, my cell phone dinged. I pulled it from my pocket to see a text from Darlene.

At your place. Where the hell are you?

This wasn't exactly the best time to tell her about my new-found friendship, but my sister needed an explanation. I had no doubt that she would keep bugging me until I answered.

I walked over to Cherie and tapped her shoulder.

"I'll be right back," I said quietly.

"Wait." She quickly turned to me and stepped closer. "Where are you going?"

"I need to make a phone call. Real quick."

"Oh. Yeah, OK."

"You're doing good. I'll only be gone a few minutes."

She took a deep breath and nodded. As I walked away, I glanced back to see her take another big gulp from her third glass of champagne. Yeah, I really needed to make this quick and get back to her.

I ducked into the alcove by the men's room and dialed Darlene's number. It rang twice before she answered.

"I'm like ten seconds away from eating your fries," she said. "What the hell is so important on 3rd ave that you can't take two seconds to text me back?"

"How did you know I'm on 3rd ave?"

She paused for a moment. There was no getting out of it.

"There's a tracker on your phone."

I was afraid of that. "I'm getting rid of it."

"If you can find it."

"Are you serious right now?"

"You still haven't answered my question."

"The girl next door asked me to go to a party with her because she has as much social anxiety as I do, but networking with these people might help her get a job writing for Teen Sweets."

Darlene was quiet for another moment. "Uh…OK. When did you start hanging out with the girl next door?"

"About a week ago. Look, just put my food in the fridge. I'll tell you more later."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, fine. Whatever."

"I'm still eating your fries."

"Go ahead. They're no good leftover anyway."

"Have fun!" she sing-songed before ending the call.

"Pain in the ass," I mumbled to myself.

I flipped my phone over and removed the back. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then I took out the battery and found a tiny metal disc with a blinking red light. I could understand Darlene's reasoning behind this; I had disappeared on her before. But if she could track me, so could a number of other people. People I didn't want tracking me. I couldn't have that.

I easily removed the tracker with my fingernail. After putting my phone back together, I went into the men's room and flushed the tracker down the toilet. I washed my hands just for show and headed back to the party. As I stepped into the banquet room, I was intercepted by one of the servers.

"Dude," he said. "You might wanna think about taking your girlfriend home."

"She's not my girlfriend," I responded.

"Whatever, man. I just hope you're the one driving."

Shit. I scanned the crowd and found Cherie sitting by herself at a table. Three empty champagne flutes sat in front of her, and a full one was in her hand. As I hurried over to her, I tried to think of an escape plan. How many excuses were there for leaving a party only an hour after arriving?

When I approached the table, Cherie gave me a dopey smile. "Hey! There you are!"

"I was only gone five minutes," I said. "How many drinks did you have?"

Cherie shrugged. "I lost count."

"OK, then." I took the drink from her hand and set it down on the table. "We should go."

"Sure. Your place or mine?"

"What?"

This question had come out of nowhere, catching me completely off guard. Cherie just giggled at my reaction. Surprised. Confused. Maybe a little nervous. We had to leave. Before her drunken antics cost her a job.

"Let's just go," I said.

"Alright," Cherie said.

Well that was easy. Cherie stood up unsteadily, giggling again.

"We'll decide when we get there," she said with a wink.

Jesus, this was getting really uncomfortable. What she was hinting at was probably the furthest thing on my mind at that moment. Cherie put her arm around me to steady herself. Normally I wouldn't have allowed this physical contact, but how could I deny it to a drunk friend in need?
We managed to escape the party without incident. Outside the restaurant I hailed a cab. The fewer the people we had to encounter the better. Sitting side-by-side in the back of the cab, Cherie rested her head on my shoulder. She was too far gone to think straight or make any rational decisions. Whatever happens, it is entirely on me.