"That makes no sense, but whatever. I need to talk to Damian."
I peek my head in the limo door. "Damian, start calling and texting all our friends. All the surfers. Girls they hang out with. Anyone and everyone whose numbers you have that could possibly have been invited to his New Year's Eve party."
"Do a mass text to everyone you know," Riley instructs Damian. "Include our numbers on it and we'll start calling each one."
"And pray someone knows," Aiden adds. His voice is like a shock to my heart.
I look at him, at Damian, at Peyton, at Riley, and at Ariela.
My friends.
I become instantly worried.
About location services.
Phone tracking.
Hacking.
My plan is supposed to revolve around Vincent knowing where I was, not where I am now.
I quickly get out of the car and grab my phone out of Cooper's hand.
"Do you have a pocketknife?"
Cooper reaches in his pocket and pulls out something that is much more than a pocketknife.
When my eyes get big at its size, he shrugs. "It's ceramic, passed through the metal detectors at the party tonight."
"I think we need to take out my SIM card. I don't want him to be able to track me. Even if it's only a remote possibility."
Cooper gets up, opens the passenger door in the front of the limo, and asks the driver if he has a paperclip. He leans out of the door shaking his head then asks everyone in the back.
"Keatyn, do you still have the envelope that the tickets were in?" Aiden asks.
"Uh, I think so?"
He picks up my baguette, flips open the clasp, grabs the envelope, digs inside, and pulls out a shiny paperclip.
"You're brilliant," I tell him, quickly using it to pop the SIM card out of my phone.
I hand it to Cooper, who throws it in a trash bin. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Once we're all back in the car and moving, Cooper whispers to me, "I don't want this driver to take us to your loft. New plan for getting home, don't you agree?"
"Yes. We could be being followed right now."
"We'll never get a hotel room on New Year's Eve."
"Let's go to Damian's. Get dropped off. Go in the building. In the elevators. It's controlled access, so no one could follow us. If they break in later, no one will be there because they're all still in France." I notice that Damian has stopped making phone calls and is looking at me. "Any word?"
"No. I just heard you say my name."
I lean over and whisper to him. "If we got dropped off at your dad's building, could you run up and get the keys so that we could use his car?"
"I wouldn't even have to go upstairs," he whispers back. "It's got an access code on the door handle. The keys are always in it."
"Perfect."
Even after shaking any tail we may have had and getting back to my loft, we still haven't heard from anyone who knows where Brooklyn is.
"Go ahead and get some sleep," I tell everyone. "It's long past midnight there now, so everyone has probably headed home."
I go in my room with Aiden, walk into my closet, and am stripping off my party dress when one of Aiden's Eastbrooke sweatshirts catches my attention.
A scenario flashes through my brain. Vincent finding out where I live. Searching the loft for clues. I grab Aiden's sweatshirt and toss it on the floor. Now I'm crying, as I frantically whip through his clothes, searching for more.
"What are you doing?" Aiden asks as he comes into the closet.
"You can't have this stuff here! You have to get it out!" I yell.
"My clothes? But you said . . ."
"Anything Eastbrooke. Help me. I have to make sure . . . Because if anyone . . . And I don't want . . ."
I collapse, falling to the floor in a puddle of emotions.
Aiden drops to the floor next me, pulls me into his arms, and lets me cry.
After a few minutes, he kisses the top of my head and says, "Shhhh. Calm down, baby. Listen to your heart. What does it say?"
I look up at him. "What do you mean?"
"Your gut. Your interaction with Vincent. Do you think he has Brooklyn?"
I squint at him, taking a deep breath and clearing my mind as he wraps a cashmere robe around me.
"You're shaking your head," he says, pulling me out of my reverie.
"I am?"
"Yes."
"I don't think he has him."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because Vincent was still threatening me. Still trying to scare me. If he had Brooklyn, he wouldn't have to try. He wouldn't have brought up my grandma. He would have hinted that he was with Brooklyn or something. I think he just wanted me to know that he was close. Too close."
"Are you sure?"
"Not at all. My brain is panicked and on overload. But my heart isn't . . . as panicked."
Keatyn gets numerous call-backs the next day.
But no one has the information we need.
No one knows where Brooklyn is.
They all assume he's at his house.
They remember watching the music video with him. Watching the ball drop in New York.
Doing shots.
I'm still pacing.
It's what I've been doing since we got home.
I'm really worried.
And the longer I don't hear from him the more worried I get.
I'm currently seriously contemplating stealing Damian's phone, running off with Cooper, and getting to a location where I can call B's cell.
My phone rings with a call from Mark at 1:26.
At this point, I'm not holding out much hope that he'll tell me anything different.
In fact, knowing him, he's probably going to give me shit for calling so many times while he's trying to sleep off New Year's Eve.
"Hey, Mark," I answer.
"Keats?" B's groggy voice asks.
"Brooklyn?! Where the hell are you?! Are you okay?!"
"I'm at Mark's. I'm pretty hung over and you're being really loud."
That sets me off. "What the hell were you thinking? You had a party at your house? Did you know that Vincent was there?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Where's your phone, B? Why aren't you calling from it?"
"I couldn't find it last night. I'm sure I just set it down somewhere."
"Vincent texted me from it last night. He was there. In your house. Said he watched the music video there. Said your friends were saying things about me."
"They were. I didn't like it."
"You didn't like the video?"
"No, Keats. They were all slapping me on the back, making sexual comments. It upset me."
"Why?"
"Why? Because they shouldn't be talking about my girl like that."
"Your girl?"
"You know what I mean. They all think we're still together. Most of them were watching the live footage when I won."
"I want you out of Malibu. Now."
"I can't. I'm meeting my mom on Tuesday, remember?"
"You need to cancel it. Or at least meet her somewhere else."
"I'm not canceling. I already told her to meet me at Buddy's at six. There will be lots of people there. Plenty safe. Are you still coming?"
"You seriously won't change it?"
"I can't. I promised."
I let out a sigh to calm myself down. "Fine. I'll be there. Let's meet a few minutes early. We need to talk."
"We need more than a few minutes, Keats. Why don't you come in the night before. We can surf in the morning. Hang out. Chill. We need some time together."
"Are you still drunk? Don't you understand that Vincent got close enough to you last night that he was able to steal your phone? He. Was. In. Your. House. That should be freaking you the fuck out."
"I don't know, maybe. You're right. I didn't really think it through. I just know I have to see her."
I close my eyes shut tight. "Tell you what. I'll come in a little early and we'll work out a plan that will keep us both safe."
"Okay, Keats."
"Go back to bed, B. I'll talk to you later."
I hang up the phone, cover my mouth with my hand, and scream into it.
"A little frustrated?" Cooper asks.
"Is that how you feel when you think I'm doing something stupid?"
Cooper just smiles and laughs at me.
I'm about to collapse in bed when Tommy calls my house phone.