by Tammy Walsh
“I guess he does a bit,” I said, not paying much attention.
Hazel leaned in close. “You should go speak with him.”
I snorted. “Now I know you must be drunk.”
“I’m being serious. Why not?”
“Because… I’m not you. Or Sirena. Or even Victoria. At least she has spunk. I’m just me. I’m not you guys.”
“So, channel us a little and go out there and get your ass back in the game,” she said. “You don’t need to sleep with him. But if you do, I definitely want you to set up a live feed for me to watch later.”
“Hazel!”
“Just get his number. That’s your quest. Get his number. Bonus points if it’s genuine. I’m going to go dance with my fellow hussies. You get your ass up out of this chair and go talk to him right now. Get that number and I swear, you’ll feel a whole lot better afterward.”
“He’s… not my type,” I said
“He’s everybody’s type,” Hazel said. “I would go over there and talk to him myself if it wasn’t for, you know…”
She wiggled her engagement ring. It made me wish I had one. Then I wouldn’t have to listen to this.
She glanced in the direction of the dance floor. She wanted to head over to her fun friends.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I needed to step outside myself, do something I never usually dared. My last relationship was with one of Tom’s coworkers. He was even more drab and dreary than Tom.
I took a swig from my grapefruit juice and hissed through my teeth as if I’d just downed a fifth of whiskey. “I’m gonna do it.”
“That’s my girl,” Hazel said, slapping me on the back. “Go get him while I go get mine.”
She got up and moved away, leaving me alone.
Alone.
I didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my existence, did I? Watching through the window while others lived their lives? That was how I lived my work life. I shouldn’t have to put up with it in my personal life too.
I wrapped my hand around my bracelet and kissed it, drawing strength from it. But not quite enough…
I took another shot of passion juice and gathered my courage. Look out world, here I come.
A phone number. That was all I was asking for.
I got up out of my chair and received a double thumbs-up from Hazel.
I crossed towards him, tossing my hair to one side before remembering my hair was only shoulder-length and wouldn’t have the swooshing sensation I was aiming for. I threw my hips out, adopting the best catwalk I could.
The attention of girls at other tables snapped in my direction, like a gang of vipers looking for weakness in a newly-hatched iguana. Glaring at me not to do it, to not even make the attempt. I saw myself among them.
What the hell was I doing? I don’t do this kind of thing.
Their jealous eyes squinted. “We saw him first,” those expressions said. “He belongs to us.” I ignored them all and kept my eyes focused on him.
It wasn’t like this relationship was going anywhere. Within a few hours, I’d be driving up the motorway, never to darken his doorway again.
A phone number, I told myself. That was all I needed. Get that, and I knew I could do the same thing back home with a guy I might actually have a relationship with.
I didn’t become intimidated by the man until I saw him up close. My legs shook and I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. He was over six feet tall, broad across the shoulders, clearly in great physical shape. His torso had that awesome upside-down triangle aspect to it, with a narrow waist and wide shoulders. He had a chiseled jaw and might have just stepped out of an old western movie. He leaned with one elbow on the bar.
Just looking at him turned me to jelly. What would happen if his tongue was on me?
My legs shivered again. Okay. Too much imagination. This wasn’t a scene in one of my books.
I had a terrible feeling I was going to be The Failure, as I referred to them in my books. The girl who made the first attempt always struck out. It would leave the way open for the next girl to come along and succeed by comparison alone.
He raised a hand to the bartender and ordered a drink. The other women watched me as I crossed to him. Looking, waiting, hoping for me to make a mistake.
Sorry, ladies. Not tonight.
The handsome guy picked up his drink and raised it to his lips. His eyes flicked up and surveyed the crowd. He didn’t spot me until I came within two yards of him.
His eyes dipped surveyed me in a fraction of a second. Did he like what he saw? His lips were a cross between a purse and a smile. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
“Hi—” I said.
My final step would take me to within a couple of feet of him. My heel caught in the groove of a floorboard and slid along its unflinching route.
That was it. I was going down like the Hindenburg.
Time slowed the way it did when death was near—death from absolute embarrassment. I fell backward, my legs bending beneath me, my dress riding up over my extending thigh. The whole bar would see I was wearing Minnie Mouse underwear and all those viper scowls would turn to gales of laughter.
But I didn’t hit the floor. Someone caught me.
The hot guy.
He had one arm wrapped tightly around my waist, the other placed on my thigh—not touching me indecently but to hold my skirt down to prevent me from flashing the entire bar.
From being the laughing stock of the entire establishment to straight into the arms of my handsome hero in one fell swoop.
He lifted me with his powerful arms as if I weighed nothing more than a feather, and set me on my feet. I ran my hands over my dress and hair.
“Careful,” he said with a small smile that made me want to nibble on the dimple that formed on his cheek.
“Right,” I said, flustered. “Right. That’s… That’s good. It’s the floor. It’s very slippery. Who thought it would be a good idea to have grooves when women are walking around with high heels? I’ll never understand it.”
“A fool, for sure,” the guy said.
We’re talking! We’re actually having a conversation!
“I guess you don’t have much trouble with tripping over yourself, do you?” I said.
“I rarely wear high heels.”
I chuckled nervously. “Right. Pleased to hear that.”
“Would you like a drink?”
He’s offering me a drink! I’m in!
“Uh, yes,” I said. “Yes, that would be great. A fruit juice. I’m the designated driver tonight.”
“You’re heading home tonight?” he said. “It’s Saturday. I would have thought you’d be partying.”
“That was last night. Unfortunately, we have to leave early. My friend is tying the knot. That’s her. Over there.”
I couldn’t resist turning to wave at her on the dancefloor. She was partially blocked by a hot guy with his tongue buried down her throat.
“Which one is she?” the hot guy said.
“That one there,” I said. “The one playing tonsil tennis. I guess she’s enjoying her last night of freedom.”
The kisser reached down and squeezed Hazel’s ass. She didn’t pull back. Instead, she reached down and cupped him through his pants.
It surprised me. I guess she would never get to do this ever again, so she might as well enjoy herself while she could. Still, something about it didn’t quite feel right. Hazel didn’t do this kind of thing…
She wasn’t the only one enjoying herself. Bianca led a guy off the dancefloor in the direction of somewhere ‘more quiet’ while Sirena scribbled her number on her business card and made the guy attempt to snatch it from her hand.
How did they find it so easy?
The answer was simple. They were hot. That was the problem with girls who’d always been gorgeous. They never understood how difficult it was for average girls like me to get attention from the guy.
“Those my friends there,” I said. �
�The classy ladies on the dance floor.”
“Is it just the three of you?” Mr. Hotness said.
“No. There are six of us in total,” I said. “All here to wish her the best.” Then I extended my hand. “By the way, my name’s Alice. And you are…?”
“Nighteko,” he said.
“That’s an unusual name,” I said. “Are you from abroad?”
“You could say that,” he said. “I only come now and then for business.”
“Right,” I said, feeling more disappointed than I had a right to be.
“I hope you don’t have too far to travel tonight,” Nighteko said. “You might fall asleep at the wheel.”
It was so sweet he was concerned about our wellbeing. Now I really was bummed he wasn’t in town often.
My fingers found the locket on my bracelet and I rubbed it for good luck. You can do this.
“I have my caffeine tablets ready,” I said. “Actually, we should probably get going soon. Before I go, do you think maybe I could have your—”
The doors banged open and half the bar stopped dead in their conversations and turned in their seats.
A girl stood picked out by moonlight. Her dress was torn and a little dirty along the hem, her hair disheveled. I expected her to shout for help, that she’d been attacked…
The girl peered around at the bar but appeared not to notice anyone was there. She caught what she was looking for on the other side of the room. She took off at a run, limping between the tables, toward the fire escape. She slammed her hands on the lever and exited. The fire bell exploded with noise.
A pair of police officers entered the bar. One nodded to the other. “You go through here. I’ll head around the back.”
The entire bar watched as the overweight officer sprinted past the revelers and took off through the same door the girl had gone through.
The moment the fire escape door slammed behind him, the alarm turned off and the silence erupted into hushed conversations, everyone wide-eyed with wonder at what had just taken place.
“Well, what do you think’s going on there?” I said, turning to Nighteko.
I was only talking to myself. He was gone.
Feeling a little bummed and more than a little putout, I downed the last of the fruit juice he bought me and moved over to our table. Maybe I didn’t get his number but I could have done, I told myself. That, at least, made me feel a little better.
“Alice?” Sirena said. “I think you ought to come outside. Hazel’s being sick.”
I gathered up my things. “Get the others and meet us at the parking lot. I’ll meet you there.”
I jammed a fistful of tissues in my pocket. A maid of honor’s job was never done.
Hazel groaned and emptied what remained—I hoped—of her stomach across the dirty alley floor.
“I swear,” she said between gasps, “I’m never going to drink another drop of alcohol ever again.”
I rolled my eyes. It was a good thing she couldn’t see me. She’d said this—or something similar—about a million times in the past. I doubted she meant it this time either.
I tapped her on the back comfortingly with one hand and held her hair back in a tight fist in the other.
“There, there,” I said. “You’ll be alright. There, there.”
This was one of the benefits of being the designated driver. I got to see my friends get sick and do idiotic things. It reminded me to pace myself when I wasn’t the designated driver.
I sighed and looked for something interesting to look at while my friend pumped her stomach. We were on the fringes of Main Street where the biggest establishments pumped out the loudest music. It wasn’t all trance.
Over there, at the Irish pub, a live band played modern folk music. And next to it, a wine bar with gentle jazz tunes. The women there were dressed up smart and enjoyed a quiet drink and conversation. Further along were the nightclubs, mixed in a thick miasma that gave me a thudding headache.
“Do you have any tissues?” Hazel said.
“Huh?” I said, my mind still miles away.
“Tissues,” Hazel said. “Do you have any?”
“Uh, yeah,” I said, digging in my pocket for the ones I’d snatched from the bar.
She dabbed at her lips. “Thanks.”
“How do you feel?” I said.
Her makeup was smudged and her mascara ran down either side of her face.
“I shouldn’t have done it,” she said.
I helped wipe her smudged makeup off. “I guess playing tongue hockey with a stranger is never the best idea in the world.”
“Not that,” Hazel said. “I mean Tom.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. He’s not likely to hear about it from any of us, is he?”
She just looked at me. My eyes danced between hers. She wasn’t referring to the random hot stranger.
“You’re talking about the wedding…” I said.
Her eyes lowered. “He asked me and I wasn’t sure how to respond. I mean, we’ve been together for so long and it’s the next logical step, right? I thought maybe it was time. I’m not getting any younger. And I didn’t want to throw away all the years we’ve spent together.”
I read between the lines. “But you’re not sure about spending the rest of your life with him.”
“It sounds terrible when you say it like that.”
“Are you getting cold feet?” I said.
Was I selfish for feeling glad she was having second thoughts? It meant we could still hang out together like the old days.
She shook her head. “No. I’m being silly. I doubt there’s a woman alive who’s tied the knot and not thought twice.”
I didn’t know. I wasn’t married and I’d never asked a married woman if she ever regretted getting married. It was a line of questioning that could cost you a promotion.
“Ignore me,” Hazel said. “I’m being stupid.”
Hazel was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.
“If you’re not certain, maybe you should push the wedding back a few months,” I said. “Give you time to think it over more.”
“Are you kidding?” Hazel said. “You know how long it took for me to get the church I wanted! No. I’ll think about it more later. It’s just a few last-minute doubts, that’s all.”
Now it was plural. Doubts.
I put a pin in it for the drive home. While the others were asleep in the back, I’d speak with her about it.
“Oh God,” Hazel said, turning green. “More’s coming up!”
She bent over and threw up, adding to the growing pile at her feet.
Slam!
The explosion of noise made me hop.
Ahead, emerging from a backdoor to the bar we’d been drinking in, a man stumbled, looking first our way, and then the other. He had a terrible haircut and a mustache that looked like it’d been glued on.
Please don’t come this way. Please don’t come this way.
The man slowly turned and shuffled off into the darkness. There was a lost look in his eye, confused. Maybe he had too much to drink, I thought. That didn’t sound right even though I couldn’t explain why…
Hazel heaved again and muttered barely intelligible words under her breath. “Never again. I swear to God. Never again…”
A breeze flapped a sheet of paper attached to the wall. It was a poster with a photograph in the middle and a number with a dollar sign at the bottom. At first, I thought it was a local girl looking for street work—fat chance, I thought, with the lack of men in this place. I hadn’t seen more than a handful since we arrived.
The photo wasn’t well chosen for that purpose. It was plain and face-on with no hint of her hot curves—assuming she had any—underneath. I scanned the word at the top of the page: MISSING, and that’s when it suddenly made sense.
This girl wasn’t looking for work. She was lost and her family was looking for her.
The image was faded, the face hard to recognize. Rain had washed
out the colors and turned the paper crisp like a newly discovered treasure map.
Only, this treasure was unlikely to ever be found.
Maybe I was wrong. After all, how many people tore off the missing posters they’d put up after their loved one had been found? Not many, I bet.
A stiff breeze flapped my skirt around my legs and tore the poster off the wall. The woman stared up at me from that frozen image. And something struck me. With her shoulder-length hair and big eyes, she could have easily passed as me.
The thought gave me a shiver—that I might be witnessing my own future in that failed and forgotten rectangle of crumpled paper.
As it floated to the ground, it joined half a dozen others like it. They slid across the dirty backstreet with a gruff tearing sound. Each of the faces was different. One was black with big eyes, another an Asian with a cute button nose, and a Latina with a small heart-shaped face.
None of the girls had anything in common… except for the fact they’d all gone missing in this town.
But what did I expect? It was what happened in modern towns. People went missing from time to time. That was nothing unusual.
And then I looked up. My blood turned cold.
Dozens of curled posters flapped on the wall. Maybe hundreds. Each one, a missing woman.
Their friends and families would be out there somewhere, searching for them, worried about them.
The wind ruffled the pages once more and a pair of concealed eyes winked at me.
With my heart in my throat, I reached for the poster on top, revealing another one underneath it. And beneath that, another sheet of paper…
And another…
And another…
Every square inch of the wall was half a dozen layers deep with posters of missing women, each with a reward underneath for any information on their whereabouts. They went back in time, the paper growing darker, crisper, and the images faded and forgotten like distant memories. None had dates on them, but it wasn’t hard to imagine just how far back these missing women went.
Hazel groaned as she stood up.
“That’s it,” she said. “I think I’m empty. Man, I’m really never going to drink another drop of alcohol for the rest of my life.”
