Meet Me in Barcelona

by Mary Carter

  “I hear you thought I took your cell phone the other day,” she said.

  “Carrie Ann,” Grace said. “This is between you and me.”

  “I didn’t take your cell phone. I didn’t send texts as if they were from you.”

  “Let’s forget about it,” Grace said.

  “Well, somebody did,” Jake said. “And it was while I was with you.”

  “The two of you are perfect for each other. Paranoid thing one, and paranoid thing two,” Carrie Ann said. “Did it ever occur to you, Grace, that Jake was lying to you?”

  “No,” Grace said. “Of course not.”

  “Of course not,” Carrie Ann mimicked. She turned to Jake. “Have you ever lied to Grace?”

  “No,” Jake said.

  “Give me a break,” Carrie Ann said. “You lied about being in my apartment.”

  “And then I told her the truth,” Jake said.

  “So it’s okay to lie, as long as you follow it up with the truth?”

  “Jake lied because you guys were planning to surprise me for my birthday,” Grace said. “That’s a different kind of lie.”

  “So lying is a matter of degrees,” Carrie Ann said.

  “I don’t want to have this conversation,” Grace said.

  “You should,” Carrie Ann said. “It’s important.”

  “I can’t seem to drink this fast enough,” Grace said.

  “We know you’ve lied, Gracie. Your parents took in only boys. Your mother sent those letters back. Have you read them yet?”

  Of the two of us, you’re the pathological liar. Your lies destroy lives. All Grace had to do was finish the drink, and she’d finally be able to speak her mind. “I haven’t had time,” Grace said.

  “You should have made time,” Carrie Ann said.

  Jake leaned down and whispered in Grace’s ear, “I don’t want to stay.”

  “Me neither,” Grace whispered back. “Let’s finish these, dance to a few songs, and slip out.” Jake nodded.

  “Why don’t you boys find a place to hang. We’ll hit the dance floor soon,” Carrie Ann said. She was smiling again, as if she hadn’t just started a big fight.

  None of the guys needed any convincing, and they went to lean against a wall not far away. Grace was glad Rafael was here to keep Jake company—as strange as she had thought he was at first, he was actually kind of nice and funny. Not to mention they were staying in his parents’ apartment for free.

  “Speaking of Rafael,” Grace said, as if she’d been thinking out loud, “do you have any idea why we caught him trying to sneak in our window?” Grace also thought of the way he had stared at her when he had seen her at the outdoor café that morning. Grace realized now that couldn’t have been a coincidence. Carrie Ann had had her little spies out and about.

  “It’s all part of his eagle act,” Carrie Ann said. “He wasn’t trying to sneak in your window; he just walks along the edge.”

  “He also took my picture my first morning here,” Grace said.

  “Look,” Carrie Ann said. “You won’t have to worry about him much longer.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Carrie Ann didn’t answer; she was surveying the room. Her eyes landed on Jean Sebastian. From the way she was looking at him, she had a little crush on him herself. Grace told herself it didn’t bother her in the least. She wanted the two of them to get together.

  “Why won’t we have to worry about Rafael much longer?” Grace asked again.

  “God. Can we stop talking about this? I just want one night of fun.”

  Grace held herself back. Carrie Ann was the one who had started it. But the truth was, Grace just wanted to have fun too. And the sangria was finally working. Grace suddenly had a very nice buzz. Carrie Ann was checking out Jean Sebastian again.

  “I think Jake is jealous of Jean Sebastian,” Carrie Ann said. “That should spice things up.”

  Grace squirmed. “We don’t need spicing up. I hope you brought Jean Sebastian here for you and not to cause problems in my relationship.”

  “Relax. My God.” Carrie Ann took Grace’s hands. She pulled her up and the two hurried down the steps to the dance floor. Grace couldn’t believe how good it felt to just let go, move her body to the music. When Rafael came by with two drinks and handed her another one, she didn’t even hesitate. She took it and winked at him. He grinned and handed the other drink to Carrie Ann. Grace wasn’t going to let a single serious thought enter her head for the rest of the night. They had the ocean, and a DJ playing great music, and sangria. They were in Barcelona, baby! By this time the boys had wandered downstairs too, and Grace found Jake, pulled him out for a dance, and kissed him as passionately as she could. When Jake tried to maneuver her into the hallway for more kissing, she laughed and pushed him away and took Carrie Ann’s hand, and pulled her out to the dance floor.

  “My God, what is in those sangrias?” she said as she twirled around. She wasn’t sure if she was spinning or if it was the room.

  An memory instantly assailed her. Twirling in the rain just three days after Carrie Ann had come to live with them. Grace had twirled, while Carrie Ann had stood just a foot away, staring, bangs sticking to her forehead with each drop of water. Carrie Ann had never twirled, had never felt enough of the joy required to make the movement, at least that’s how Grace had interpreted it later. At the time she had wondered why her twirling seemed to be making Carrie Ann angry. At least Carrie Ann was twirling now, commanding the dance floor in a little black dress, blond hair whipping behind her, a smile plastered on her face. See, Grace thought. We’ve made it. We came through. Through the fights, through Lionel’s death, through the lies. Right here, right now, we are happy. I am happy. Carrie Ann is happy.

  Jean Sebastian and Carrie Ann had been staring at each other all night. Maybe the two would go off together after all.

  “Another drink!” Carrie Ann said, pulling Grace toward the bar in the middle of a song she liked.

  “No,” Grace said. “Three is enough for me.” Where were Jake, and Rafael, and Jean Sebastian? Grace looked around, but it was too crowded. There were so many people. The lights were pulsing and bright. And then, as if out of nowhere, Jake appeared in front of her. He was smiling. She smiled back. They were both feeling good. She didn’t remember him wearing that shirt. She wanted to ask him about it, but her tongue felt a little swollen. He wrapped her arms around his waist, pulled her in to him, and kissed her.

  Oh, God, what a kiss. She felt brazen, and a little bit like an exhibitionist. She held him as tight as she could and kissed him with abandon. It felt exciting and new. She didn’t stop his hands when they brushed over her breasts and her ass. She was in Spain; she could let her hair down a little.

  He pulled away and gazed at her lovingly. “I’ll be right back.” Grace could only smile as he disappeared again. She felt so good one second, and so bad the next. She was lost in bodies, strangers’ bodies everywhere she turned. Her chest began to constrict a little. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to be in bed with Jake, listening to each other breathe.

  “One more,” Rafael said, popping up next to her with a drink. Grace shook her head. He thrust it at her, and she pushed back on his arm. Carrie Ann stepped in and put her hand on the side of Grace’s face. “Are you okay?”

  “I need to lie down,” Grace said. When did everything start spinning? “Where’s Jake?”

  “Lean on me. I’ve got you.”

  “I feel funny. Do you feel funny?”

  “No, Grace. I feel wonderful.”

  Grace’s head pulsed. Something was wrong. Somebody had put something in her drink. She knew it. “Jake,” she screamed while she still had the voice to do it. It was too loud in the club.

  “I’ve got you,” Carrie Ann said again. “Shit,” Grace heard her say. That wasn’t good, Grace thought. Carrie Ann sounded worried. She was the queen of not worrying. From somewhere she heard a phone ring. She thought she heard Carrie Ann say, “Oh my God.
It’s Stan.” Or did she say, “Oh my God—this isn’t part of the plan”? Or both? Grace wanted to laugh, but she was feeling too sick. Carrie Ann still had one arm around Grace’s waist. Grace felt fuzz behind her eyes. Seriously? Did Carrie Ann just say plan—or Stan?

  “I don’t want to see him,” Grace said. “I don’t like Stan. I never liked Stan.” Thick, soft fuzz surrounded her. And then she dove into it.

  CHAPTER 20

  A dark presence hovered in Grace’s peripheral vision. The next thing she knew a mass of black ribbons descended on her, completely covering her and obscuring her vision. Was she at a car wash? She hadn’t brought her car to Spain, had she? Was she home? Did she dream Spain? No. She was sitting in the middle of La Rambla. “Rafael, quit it.” Instead of going away, the thing danced on its stilts. Grace scooted her chair back, and the thing, for she wasn’t sure it was Rafael after all, stepped forward. Long black ribbons brushed against her thighs.

  “Please go,” Grace said. “I don’t have any change.” It was a lie; she had change, but she was not going to reward this thing for scaring her like this.

  “I’m not scared.” But she was—scared silly. Grace stood, sending her chair clanking to the ground behind her. She looked around for a waiter. There was no one. No one but the creature, dancing on stilts.

  Grace turned and ran. Clack, clack, clack, the thing behind her could run too, even on stilts.

  “Hey,” Grace yelled. Help. Grace could feel it directly behind her, but before she could whirl around and give it a shove, it slammed into her back, sending her hurtling to the pavement. Palms out, Grace landed, her hands scraped and stinging, her breath knocked out of her as the thing lay on her back. Grace began to scream. The thing on her back began to laugh. Grace rolled to her side, struggling to right herself. The thing leaned down; its face was one inch away from her face. Its black-rimmed eyes stared into hers; its large red mouth opened in a grin. Screaming, Grace reached up and ripped off the mask. Blond hair fell over her face. Red lips grinned at her. Carrie Ann. Grace shrieked even more. Carrie Ann laughed, loud and long, her head tilted back, her blond hair glowing in the Spanish sun.

  “I hate you!” Grace yelled. “I hate you!” Something jarred; the scene shifted. Grace wasn’t lying on La Rambla with Carrie Ann on top of her. It was a dream. But now she was awake, or at least she thought she was, and she was lying down on something cold and hard. The ground. And although she couldn’t be sure, it felt as if something was on top of her. But she couldn’t move. She’d had this condition before. Where her mind would wake up before her body. She was paralyzed. Panicking would make it worse. She would have to relax, fall back to sleep, and wake naturally. Hard to do when you had this awful feeling you were lying on the cold, hard ground somewhere. Where was everyone? What had happened? Grace remembered dancing. She remembered a club by the ocean. Carrie Ann. Jake. Jean Sebastian. Rafael. Where were they? She wanted to scream. Panic flooded her. Her mind raced, but her body remained cold and very, very still.

  CHAPTER 21

  Grace lifted her head. Images, rather than thoughts, swam before her eyes. Cold, hard, white, gray. She was on a cold, hard floor. Saw a sink and a mirror, then the toilet. A bathroom floor. Passed out. Lovely. As bathrooms went, it was small and dank, and lit by a single bulb emitting a slight buzzing sound. Graffiti was sprayed on the walls. Musings in Spanish and a few choice drawings. Penis and breasts, the usual public restroom fare. The club. Was she in the club? She slowly lifted herself into a sitting position. Her head thumped something awful. She immediately wanted to cry. Homesickness, deeper than she’d ever felt in her life, hit her in the gut. She wanted to be back in her living room, with Stella at her feet and Jake whistling in the kitchen as he made coffee.

  She had a stark feeling of terror as she got to her feet and looked in the mirror. Her dance club outfit. Blue dress. Her hair, previously straightened, was frizzed out. Her mascara ran underneath her eyes, giving her the raccoon look. She felt nauseous, and waited a moment to see if she was going to throw up, but it seemed to pass. She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over her face. Besides the buzzing, there was silence. Why couldn’t she hear the music from the dance floor? How long had she been here? Where was Jake?

  She reached for the door. It was locked. Panic joined hands with the thudding in her head. “Hello?” She rattled the door. “Hello?” She pounded on the door. “Hey. I’m locked in. Open!” How did you say open in Spanish? She tried to dredge up ancient lessons from Sesame Street, but all she could hear was agua, agua, agua. Shit. She knew they had taught open on one of those episodes. Open sesame.

  Jake would never have left her here. The thought slammed into her. If she was here alone, then something was wrong with Jake. Was he also passed out in the club? She had been drugged; she knew that for sure. She remembered the fuzzy feeling in her head. Carrie Ann. This wasn’t part of the plan. Oh, God. What plan? Did this have something to do with Stan?

  Grace had to get out of this freaking bathroom and find out where everyone else was. So much for staying calm. Sometimes you just had to panic. She hurled herself against the door and screamed. “Open. Help! Help! Help!” She yelled until the back of her throat burned. Okay, okay. The club is obviously closed, Grace. And nobody had noticed a girl passed out on the floor. Didn’t they have security and cleaning personnel? Not a very nice thing to do to an American tourist. She wasn’t even in the stall; she had been sprawled out in front of the sink. Unless she’d somehow moved in the middle of the night. Regardless, they should check the stalls too. Rafael had said he was part owner. Maybe they’d all stayed late. The owners probably let their friends stay after-hours all the time. For all Grace knew, maybe people were always passing out in the bathroom and in Europe it was just considered a successful night out. Grace slid back down the wall and crumpled on the floor. She was exhausted.

  Jake. Please be okay, Jake. Please, God, let him be okay. This was all her fault. Well, she’d learned her lesson. As soon as she found Jake, they were out of here. Sans Carrie Ann. And this time Grace didn’t care how much it hurt Carrie Ann’s feelings. Way to go, Grace. It only took being drugged and abandoned in a public bathroom to stick up for yourself.

  “Grace?” It was a male voice. But it didn’t sound like Jake. Grace got up a little too quickly, and her knees buckled.

  “Help,” she said.

  “Hold on.” She heard a wrenching noise, and the door opened. Grace put her hand on the sink to help herself up.

  “I’ve got you.” Hands gripped her underneath her armpits and helped her up. It was Jean Sebastian. He too was wearing the same clothes from last night and also looked as if he’d been through the wringer. When she was upright, his hands fell to her waist. He kept them there and looked at her with concern. “Are you okay?”

  “My head.”

  “Mine too.”

  “We were drugged?”

  “I woke up in the middle of the dance floor. I only had one drink.”

  “I was locked in,” Grace said.

  Jean Sebastian pointed to a chair lying sideways on the floor. “Somebody propped it under the doorknob.”

  Not a chance of its being an accident. “Jake? Where’s Jake?” Grace gently pulled away from Jean Sebastian and headed out of the bathroom. Her head swam. She reached out to steady herself. Jean Sebastian was right there, offering his arm.

  “Easy, easy. The others aren’t here.”

  “Jake wouldn’t leave me.” The club was dim. Only a little light was streaming in from a skylight. The side that had been open to the ocean last night was now walled and gated. It was impossible to tell what time it was. Grace spotted a familiar black shape on top of the bar. “My purse?” She approached it, almost not believing it. She reached for it. It felt just as heavy as before. She went through it. Her wallet, with Carrie Ann’s ID. Carrie Ann’s engagement ring. The keys to the apartment. No cell phone. The cash she had left. Someone had left the ring and the cash, but had ta
ken her cell phone? Someone who didn’t want her calling anyone.

  “Is everything there?”

  “My phone is gone.”

  Jean Sebastian felt his pockets. “Mine too. And my wallet. Your wallet is there?”

  “Even my money.” She had seventy euro in her purse. “We have to search this entire place. Carrie Ann, Jake, Rafael. They have to be here. The men’s room?”

  “I’ve been in there. Empty,” Jean Sebastian said.

  “You look down here. Yell if you find anyone or a phone. I’ll search upstairs.”

  “You’re not too steady on your feet,” Jean Sebastian said. “Why don’t I go up and you look down here?”

  Grace nodded. “Please. Find Jake.” Grace looked behind the bar. No phone. The cash register was locked tight. Once again she wondered how in the world the employees had left at least two of them in here unnoticed. And Jean Sebastian had said he woke up in the middle of the dance floor. It didn’t seem possible that anyone could miss that. “Jake?” she called. “Carrie Ann? Rafael?” She heard Jean Sebastian call out the names upstairs. In less than ten minutes she had searched every nook and cranny. There was nobody here. Jean Sebastian came downstairs with the same news.

  “We have to find an exit,” Grace said. “Maybe somehow they’re back at the apartment.” Jake would be out of his mind with worry. And he certainly wouldn’t like her being locked in here with Jean Sebastian, but now wasn’t the time to worry about that.

  “There’s a window upstairs. It opens. But we have to walk a pretty tight ledge and jump onto the first floor balcony, and then to the ground.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “The rest of the place is locked and chained. Our only other option is to wait until this evening. I don’t think they open until after seven p.m.”