Read My Heart's Beat (Hard Love & Dark Rock #2) for Free Online Page B

heart.
    "Thanks, Bernstein," I said again.
    This time he just nodded and smiled.
    I turned and started walking up the hallway, back to the party.  Back to Anne.
    -
    I could hear the sound of the party from twenty yards down the hall.  The voices had reached a level of shrillness, loud and excited—people yelling back and forth instead of carrying on a regular conversation.  Lots of raucous laughter, too, and excited screams.
    I pushed the door open and walked in.  Anne's friend Becca was in the kitchenette with Sergio and Angel.  They were laughing and leaning on each other, a half-empty bottle of tequila on the counter, a handful of lime rinds in the sink.  A big package of Morton's salt had fallen to the floor, scattering salt.
    "Hey Becca," I said.
    Her eyes met mine, watery, swimming a little in her head.  She smiled.
    "Hi Trace.  Wanna shot?"
    "No thanks.  Where's Anne?"
    "Isn't she with you?"
    "No.  I just got back from Joey's room."
    "Oh," she said.  "Is Joey alright?"
    "He's okay.  The doctor says he's supposed to take it easy for the rest of the night."
    She swayed a little, and I reached out to steady her.
    "You might want to take it easy, too," I said.  "I wouldn't recommend trying to keep up with Sergio and Angel.  They've been drinking tequila since before Sergio even knew how to play bass."
    "Too late," Becca said, blinking her watery eyes.  "I just took two shots, and I can already feel it.  Tequila is no joke!"
    She giggled.
    "Becca," I said.  "Where's Anne?"
    Her eyes came back to mine again.  "Isn't she with you?"
    "No.  I already told you that.  I just got back from Joey's room."
    "Oh.  Is he alright?"
    I just looked at her for a second, shaking my head.  "He's fine.  Where's Anne."
    "Dunno.  Last time I saw her she was talking with that freaky Skeletor chick, the one who threw her piano on the floor in the middle of your set."
    "Sara?  Our keyboardist."
    "Yeah.  She and Anne were talking.  Carlos here offered me a drink," she pointed at Sergio, "and I figured I'd give Anne a minute to chat with one of her rock-star heroes.  She really loves your band, man!  She's been creaming in her shorts over you guys ever since I met her."
    I took a step away back, peering into the living room.  I saw Sara sitting on the couch, rolling a cigarette, but I didn't see any sign of Anne.
    "You didn't see her leave or anything?"
    "Trace, since I came in here to get a drink, I haven't seen anything but Tequila and limes and these two hot Mexicans, Pancho and Anchovie."
    "Sergio and Angel."
    "Huh?"  She gave me a confused look.  And then her lips stretched into a broad grin.  "Hey, wanna do a shot?"
    I shook my head again.  "Sergio, Angel, make sure she drinks some water or something, alright?  I'm gonna go talk to Sara, see if I can find Anne."
    Sergio looked at me.  "Right on, Trace."
    I guided Becca to the counter, leaned her up against it, and then walked into the living room.  I stood there for a moment, my eyes scanning the room, looking for Anne.  Of the thirty or so people in there, about a third seemed to be on the verge of passing out, or were already asleep.  There were people slumped in chairs, sitting down on the carpet near the corner, leaning up against the walls with their eyes shut as if they were asleep on their feet.  The other two thirds of the folks seemed just a few steps away from blacking out, too—clinging together, slapping each other on the back, making oaths and declarations of brotherhood.
    The party was reaching its crash point, and I didn't see any sign of Anne.  The urgency I felt ratcheted up another few click.
    I walked up to the couch, crouched down beside Sara.
    "Hey Sara."
    She looked up at me, her big blue eyes peering out from deep in their sockets, and managed a fragile smile.
    "Hi Trace.  I'm almost done with this cigarette."  She raised her hands to show me, the tobacco laid out in the paper like dirt in a white canoe.  "It's organic