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Chapter Four
    The SUV followed us at high speeds. I wove through the late-night traffic, trying to shake him. We were in Orange County—thirty minutes from her hotel—only ten minutes from my house.
    I split the lanes between two trucks, then cut down a side alley. He blew by without seeing us. Lincoln’s head continued to swivel to search the streets even after I lost him.
    “I think he’s gone,” she shouted.
    I nodded and turned up my street, breathing heavy. Eight bikes were parked on the driveway and grass in front of my house.
    “Is this where you live?” she asked, checking out the bungalow as she stepped off the bike and removed the helmet.
    “Yeah. I’m going to ask if I can borrow my roommate’s truck so the paparazzi won’t recognize you on the highway. It will only take a minute.”
    “It’s so late. Can’t we crash here tonight?”
    “No. Trust me, you would be more comfortable in a five-star hotel.”
    “There are more paparazzi vultures circling there. I have to get out of the truck at some point, and they’ll swarm me then.”
    “You can’t stay here.” I checked both ways up and down the street. She couldn’t stay on the front lawn, either. I clutched her elbow and led her into the house. The guys were in the living room drinking, so I snuck her down the hall to my room and shut the door.
    “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
    She removed her jacket and sat on the bed. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said and stood back up.
    “Uh, that’s not a good idea. I live with really disgusting guys.”
    Her face contorted in response to the ridiculousness of not being able to use the bathroom. “What am I supposed to do?”
    I knew it was unreasonable to expect her to hold it, but the toilet was going to make her sick. I stared at her for a while, then said, “Okay, give me a minute. Stay here, don’t make any noise, and keep the door shut.”
    She nodded, and I slipped out into the hall. Kaz was just coming out of the bathroom. “Hey Cain. When did you sneak in?”
    “I just got home. What are you guys doing?”
    “Poker. You want me to deal you in?”
    “No, thanks. I have to go out again. Do you mind if I borrow your truck for about an hour? I’ll gas it up.”
    “It’s not running. The fuel pump went on it. Crow’s going to fix it tomorrow.” He glanced at my closed bedroom door. “What’s wrong with your bike?”
    “Nothing.”
    He waited for me to elaborate on why I needed the truck, but I didn’t. He either decided it wasn’t any of his business, or he didn’t care what I was going to do with his truck. Instead of prying, he said, “You can borrow it tomorrow. Come play poker.”
    “I’m too tired.”
    He wrapped his forearm around my neck and squeezed it like a python suffocating its prey. “One beer won’t kill ya.”
    I punched him in the spleen to make him stop strangling me. “Tomorrow, man.”
    “Okay, okay. Get your beauty sleep, pussy.”
    After he walked away, I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door. It was revolting. I poured bleach all over the toilet, the floors, the counters, the sink, and wiped everything down with a rag. The fumes made me dizzy, so I held my breath and opened the window. We didn’t even have hand towels to put out, so I hung a couple of bath towels for Lincoln to dry her hands on. I took a quick shower and cleaned the tub while I was in it. It still looked kind of grimy when I was done, but it was better.
    There was a knock on the door. Crow said, “Cain, vacate. I need to take a dump.”
    I opened the door wearing a towel around my waist and carried my clothes. “Don’t mess it up. I just cleaned it.”
    He looked at me funny. “You cleaned the shitter at two in the morning. What’s wrong with you?”
    “It was making me sick.”
    He shrugged, putting about as much thought into it as he did everything—which wasn’t much—and went in without closing the door behind him. I snuck back into my