Girls' Night Out_A Novel

by Liz Fenton

  “We all had bets. I thought you were going to end up with Lori,” Lauren said.

  “So did I,” Natalie said dryly, finishing her drink.

  Ashley tried to read her. To recall the last time they’d talked about what happened. It had been years, for sure. On the way home from the taping, Nat had been livid Ash hadn’t consulted her before she told everyone no. But Ashley had explained that she had a gut feeling about BloBrush. That they were going to be uber successful—without the help of the Sharks. To trust her. And she’d been right.

  “I actually did too,” Ashley said. “But she wanted too much equity. I’m glad we didn’t take an investor. Think about how much money we’ve made as a result.”

  “That’s very true.” Natalie clinked her empty glass against hers.

  “Did you guys ever talk to any of the Sharks again?” Lauren asked, sipping her drink.

  “Not really, but we saw Lori backstage in the greenroom at QVC and she couldn’t have been nicer.”

  “Yeah, she told us she used the BloBrush every day and was still sad she didn’t get to invest.”

  “She called us ‘the ones that got away’ as she walked out of the greenroom,” Ashley mused, grinning at the memory. “But look, we got on QVC anyway, and we didn’t need her help after all.”

  “True. But I wonder what she would have said about the Revlon offer,” Natalie said.

  Ashley shrugged, slightly annoyed. “I don’t know, but I’m happy we don’t have to worry about it. It’s hard enough trying to decide with only two people. And look at us now, successful with a popular YouTube channel—did you see we’re up to a million followers?”

  Natalie gave her a look like she hadn’t.

  “Anyway, you two YouTube superstars, enough about work, let’s get another round,” Lauren said, setting her empty glass on the table. She flagged Emmanuel. Ashley sent her a grateful smile.

  “Spoken by the only person at the table with no job,” Natalie said.

  Ashley watched Lauren’s face, terrified she might take offense to Nat’s comment. But to her relief, she laughed.

  “If the life insurance payout fits . . . ,” Lauren said, but Ashley wasn’t sure whether she should laugh too. So far Geoff had felt like an untouchable subject. She glanced at Natalie—who also looked dumbfounded.

  “Ladies, come on! Annie would be rolling on the floor over that one!”

  “To death friends,” Ashley said, holding up her glass.

  “To death friends,” Lauren and Natalie repeated.

  The buzz of the alcohol radiated through Ashley’s body. This was good—they were joking, laughing, enjoying the blurriness that came with the drinking. The way it made things close seem far away, how it made the gap between them shrink from a canyon to a crevice.

  Ashley took a deep sip of her drink and prayed it would be that easy.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE DAY AFTER

  NATALIE

  Natalie stopped by her room to change out of her wet dress while Lauren waited. She tossed it on the countertop, shuddering as more sand fell out of it. She’d never wear it again.

  They jogged over to the front desk and called out to Maria. The front-desk attendant looked up at the sound of her name, her two thick braids falling forward over her shoulders. “How was your girls’ night?” she asked. “I only saw you come back before my shift ended.” She looked at Lauren. “But, Natalie, I didn’t see you or Ashley, so I was a little worried. I’m so happy to see you are well.”

  I’m not! Natalie wanted to say.

  “That’s why we’re here. We don’t know where Ashley is. Have you seen her this morning?” Natalie held her breath.

  “No,” Maria said.

  “So not since we all left last night?” Natalie tried again.

  “Not since then.”

  “Why did you say you were worried when you didn’t see us come back?”

  “It’s a small hotel, so I naturally keep track of everyone—but I’m always nervous when women travel alone, especially when they are drinking. But Tulum is safe—you’ve seen the guards at the entrance to the town.”

  The day they’d arrived, a guard with a machine gun strapped across his torso had met them when their cab had turned down the road toward their hotel. Her chest tightened as she digested the rest of Maria’s words. I worry when women travel alone, especially when they are drinking. Natalie clearly hadn’t been thinking about safety last night.

  “So you came back without Ashley?” Maria asked.

  Natalie thought about what she’d had to drink. A margarita or two when they got ready. The shot at Hartwood. Then wine. The dry pinot noir helping temper her annoyance with Ashley. And when they arrived at La Cantina, there were more shots. Mojitos. Then what? Had that been when she was drugged?

  Natalie looked up to find Maria watching her. “I don’t remember coming back here—I think maybe someone put something in my drink?”

  Maria widened her eyes, but didn’t say more. Instead she asked if she should call the police.

  “The police?” Natalie asked. “But you said Tulum is safe.”

  “We need to find Marco first,” Lauren interrupted.

  “Right,” Natalie said, trying to breathe. Praying that Ashley was with him. No matter the reason. At least she’d be safe.

  “Marco?” Maria asked.

  “He’s someone we hung out with this week,” Natalie said.

  “Did he ever come here to the hotel?” Maria asked.

  Natalie glanced around the lobby. Why hadn’t he? As she thought back, he always had wanted to meet elsewhere. Had there been a reason for that? “He owns the juice bar down the road,” she offered.

  Maria frowned. “Tropical Kiss?”

  “Yes,” the women said in unison.

  “I haven’t been there, but I thought the owner was a man named René.”

  Natalie shrugged. “I don’t know; maybe it changed owners recently. We should head over there now.” She looked at Lauren.

  “Will you talk to the staff here—see if anyone has seen Ashley, or saw anything last night or this morning?” Lauren asked Maria.

  Natalie picked up a pen off the desk and wrote down her cell phone number. “Please call me if you hear anything. Or if she comes back.”

  “Of course. I’m sure you’re going to find her,” Maria said, but she didn’t look convinced.

  A chill worked its way through Natalie, and she rubbed her arms.

  They headed to the beach cruisers, and Natalie unlocked the lime-green bike she rode to yoga the morning after they’d arrived. Lauren got on the bubblegum-pink bike Ashley had ridden. They pedaled silently to Tropical Kiss, Natalie praying they’d find Ashley. Her stomach constricted as they pulled up to the juice bar. It didn’t appear to be open. They stopped their bikes and got off. Natalie squinted at the door, looking for the business hours. Twisting the doorknob, she was surprised to find it unlocked. She pushed it inward, a bell hanging from the door dinging. “Hello?”

  She heard movement from a back room. An older woman with strawberry blonde hair swept into a messy ponytail emerged, wiping her hands on her apron, a pair of eyeglasses hanging from a chain around her neck. “We’re not open yet . . .”

  “We’re looking for the owner,” Natalie said.

  “René?”

  “No. Marco.”

  “René is the owner. He’s been in Mexico City for the past couple of weeks.”

  Natalie stiffened. “But do you know Marco? He does work here, right? He made us smoothie bowls . . .”

  “There is a Marco who works here; he’s been here a few months, but he’s definitely not the owner,” she said, rolling her eyes so subtly Natalie almost missed it.

  What else had Marco lied about? “Do you know where he lives?” She looked at Lauren. “Or his last name?”

  “May I ask who you are?” the woman said, then extended her hand. “I’m Jeanie.”

  “I’m Natalie and this is Lauren. We ar
e looking for our friend Ashley, and think she might be with him. We haven’t heard from her since last night.”

  Jeanie surveyed them for a moment. “You didn’t get this from me.” She walked over to the desk, pulled out a book, copied something down on a piece of paper, and handed it to Natalie.

  Natalie read the paper. It was an address with the name Marco Smith next to it. Smith? Her temples pounded. “Thank you,” she said to Jeanie.

  “I hope you find your friend.”

  Natalie thought she picked up on a hesitancy in Jeanie’s voice, but she didn’t trust her instincts just then.

  “Do you recognize the address?” Lauren asked as they got on their bikes. “Do you think you might have gone there after you guys left La Cantina?”

  “I have no idea,” Natalie said. “Why do you think he lied about being the owner?”

  “He was probably just trying to impress Ash. After she told him about your company, he might have felt being a juice bar employee wouldn’t be enough.”

  “And Smith?” She pointed to the name scrawled on the paper. “Do we think that’s his real last name?”

  Lauren paused. “It’s possible. I know he said he was born here, but his father could have been American.”

  Natalie nodded, but she wasn’t sure what to think. In the time they’d spent with him, Marco had been in a perpetual good mood, acting like he was some sort of spiritual counselor. He loved his dog, always petting him and kissing his head. Any outsider looking in would think he was a nice guy. And objectively he’d done nothing to make Natalie feel otherwise. But looking back, there had always been something that was bothering her. She’d chalked it up to the annoying way he doted on Ashley, and his subsequent invasion of their girl time, but what if it had been something more?

  I’m going with you. Natalie heard her own voice. She strained to push through the wall that stood between her and her memory. What was said after that? She stared at Marco’s address scribbled on the tiny piece of paper. Had they all gone there together? “Did Marco say anything to you before we left?” Natalie asked.

  “No.” Lauren dragged her hands through her hair. “I wasn’t very nice to him.”

  Natalie sighed, wondering again what exact chain of events had led to Ashley’s disappearance. If Lauren had been nicer to him, would Marco have wanted to leave? Or would they have stayed and danced until the bar closed? Natalie was sure there were things she could have done differently too—if only her memory would unlock those details.

  “I shouldn’t have talked to him. Maybe I offended him or pissed him off?”

  “We can’t do this. Question everything. We’ll drive ourselves crazy,” Natalie said—even though she’d just been doing the very same thing.

  “You’re right. I’m sure she’s fine,” Lauren said. “This is Ashley we’re talking about. You know she likes to walk the line on predictability.”

  Natalie nodded. But she wasn’t so sure. It had been hours since they’d heard from her. The Ashley she knew would have at least sent a text by now.

  “But”—Lauren pulled out her phone—“I’m still going to call the airline. Even if she showed up right now, we’d never make the flight.” She held the phone up to her ear and muttered, “Dammit, Ashley.”

  Natalie tried Ashley again. Voice mail. She sent another text. Are you okay? She’d never missed a flight before. In fact, Natalie could count on one hand the number of times Ash had been late. Ten minutes early, even.

  Lauren walked back over. “I canceled them for now. We can rebook once we find her.”

  Natalie pulled up Google Maps on her phone and typed in Marco’s address. “It’s 1.2 miles from here,” Natalie said, pushing her bike forward and starting to pedal. “The faster we get there—”

  “The faster we can find her and get the hell back home,” Lauren said as she swung her leg over the worn leather seat of her bike.

  Natalie hoped she was right. That the biggest travesty of the day would be canceling and rebooking their flights.

  As they made their way down the bumpy road, she struggled to push aside the negative thoughts that kept trying to take over her consciousness. What if Ashley wasn’t at Marco’s? What if he opened the door, much the way Lauren had, groggy from sleep, with no clue where to find Ashley? That possibility sent jolts of fear through Natalie as she followed Google’s commands toward the mysterious address. It was as if the edge of her mind were a cliff, and she was teetering there with two choices: 1. Stay put and hope the memories come back. 2. Take the plunge and pray she was prepared for what she might discover. As she pedaled forward, she already knew the only choice was the second one.

  She just hoped it was the right one.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THREE DAYS BEFORE

  ASHLEY

  The warm wind whipped through Ashley’s hair as she navigated her pink beach cruiser down the narrow, bumpy, puddle-filled road to yoga class. To her right, huge palms crowded together, running the length of the street. To her left, a mix of tourists and locals were sitting in front of coffee stands. Shop owners were hanging dresses and staging their merchandise to entice customers.

  The road was still slick with the rain from the morning. Luckily it had passed before they’d started riding. Ashley glanced back to make sure Lauren and Natalie weren’t too far behind, just as her front wheel hit a pothole. She swerved and braked quickly so she wouldn’t crash. God, how long had it been since she’d ridden a bike? Like, a real bike, not one in a spin class? She leaned into her handlebars, breathed in the fresh salt air as she directed the ancient cruiser, her bag bobbing up and down in the straw basket, her calves burning and her breathing shallow after only the first half-mile. Her legs felt like they were working much harder than when she ran on the beach back home. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. Her tank top was already soaked with sweat and they hadn’t yet stepped foot in the yoga class Lauren had talked them into last night—after too many mezcal margaritas on the beach. They’d stretched out on the chaise longues, their conversation steering clear of any major land-mine topics that might send them in reverse. Marriage. The funeral. The last year. Revlon. Lauren had loosened up, her earlier cool demeanor toward Ashley no longer there. She’d even opened up a little about Annie, a new friend she’d met. It had been fun—and they’d laughed about old times.

  But tension was layered underneath the surface of their laughter, at least for Ashley. Her laughter was a little too loud when Lauren told that story about the time they’d bungee jumped in tandem and Ashley’s screams almost broke her eardrum, her smile just a bit forced as she tried to recapture the feeling they’d once shared. As if that would transform them back into the girls who had taken a literal leap of faith together, their fates intertwined.

  Then Lauren had banged on their door at 7:30 sharp this morning, a mug of steaming coffee in her hand, a mention of already having taken a long walk on the beach. Ashley had wanted to skip, but Natalie had told her to get her ass up, that it would be good for them to exercise—and to spend time doing something Lauren wanted to do. You could always count on her to do the right thing, a trait that Ashley swung between appreciating and resenting. Especially lately. Because of Revlon. Because Nat’s version of the right thing was not in line with Ashley’s. And she wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap.

  Lauren pedaled past Ashley, pumping her legs hard, as if she were trying to escape. Ashley often worried there was a part of her that would always keep her distance, their deep divide becoming a scar that would never quite fade away.

  It’s your fault he’s dead.

  Last night as they watched the sunset together, Ashley convinced herself Lauren hadn’t meant the words she’d shouted at her after the funeral. As the darkness set in and they continued to drink and reminisce, she’d told herself everything was going to be okay. But this morning she wasn’t as confident.

  They tethered their bikes to the wood rack at the hotel where the yoga class was offered, Natalie s
haking Ashley’s lock to make sure it was secure. “Come on, Nat,” Ashley said. “Even I can figure this out.”

  “Oh, I know,” Natalie said, not even aware how often she second-guessed Ashley.

  Had it now become a habit? At work it was commonplace. Ashley would draft an email and Natalie would rewrite most of it. And it had eventually bled over into other aspects of their lives. Like the ancient bike lock.

  “How do you look so fresh-faced after drinking all those margaritas last night?” Ashley asked Lauren as they made their way down the dirt path, Natalie having gone ahead to find the restroom. Ashley had always been shocked that such a tiny woman could handle so much alcohol without getting sick. In college, Lauren could shotgun more beers than a lot of the fraternity guys.

  Lauren shrugged. “I drank a lot of bottled water before bed. Plus, my tolerance is higher now—I’ve had a lot of wine this year,” she said, looking away.

  Ashley knew she meant since Geoff died. She wanted to say something—to reach out to her and make their tension disappear like it had seemed to last night. But had that only been because of the alcohol? She was afraid to say the wrong thing—again—to push her even further away. So she simply smiled at her. But Lauren had already turned, kicking off her flip-flops outside the studio, a stucco building with a thatched roof. She bent down and petted a golden dog with a shiny coat that was lying in the shade. Ashley immediately noticed the glaring difference between him and most dogs she’d seen running around Tulum. He had a full body and thick fur. He was healthy. They walked inside and grabbed mats, blankets, and blocks from the back of the room.

  As Ashley rolled out her mat, she mulled over how long it would take for the quiet easiness of her friendship with Lauren to return. She had naively hoped it would be instantaneous. Of course, that wasn’t how life worked. But Ashley was trying so hard. Didn’t that count for something? She sighed.