“We begin,” Frankie says, turning his eyes back to the road, “with a frank discussion of how f****d we actually are.”
My eyebrows go up a little at this, but I steel myself against the emotions that begin to well up in me – especially the idea that I dragged Frankie into this, that he’s only f****d for my sake. “And how f****d is that?”
“Quite,” he says, sending me a little glance. “It was crazy in that house after you got knocked out, Bambi – absolute chaos. People heard the noise – me amongst them – and the kitchen got flooded with people. It was like…a horror movie, blood everywhere, Christian going nuts hauling a corpse off of you, smacking your cheeks, trying to wake you up.”
I drop my eyes to my lap as I hear about how scared Christian was, how concerned for me. And this is how I
