by Lane Hart
“What the hell was that?” Charlotte asks as I use the railing as a bar to pour two shots for us. “That poor girl acted terrified.”
“She doesn’t know me,” I scoff. “Almost none of the waitresses do. They just hear things and gossip, until they get this insane image of me as some shadowy boss figure lurking up in the VIP lounge, giving out orders and taking favors like an old school godfather. When they actually run into me down here in the wild, they act like they’ve tripped over a sleeping tiger.”
“Are you some sort of shadowy godfather figure, Roman?” Charlotte asks with a coy grin. “I don’t remember Marlon Brando having the moves you were putting out last night at the house.”
“Then you’ve seen yourself that you have nothing to be afraid of at all. Don’t mind the waitress. The MC owns this club; and as the president, I’m her ultimate boss. That shit just makes some people nervous. Now, let’s have a toast,” I propose as I raise my shot.
Charlotte raises her glass and touches it to mine. “Go ahead,” she prompts me.
“To old friendships never forgotten and new friendships we’ve forged on the way.” I tell her before downing my shot.
Charlotte swallows hers as well, and then slams her glass down on the railing. “I think that sentiment deserves one more, don’t you?” she asks me.
“For new friendships? You’re damned right,” I grin at her as I pour another round. We pound them down. Then, as I place my glass down, Charlotte stands up, craning her neck to look back inside and see across the dance floor.
“That’s not good,” Charlotte mutters. I turn to try to follow her line of sight across the club.
“What’s not good?” I ask, leaning in close to her ear to speak. Not just because of the music being so loud, but because her scent is…
“That!” Her finger points to the dance floor where Verek is grinding hard on a redhead. A woman I quickly recognize as Charlotte’s friend, the bride-to-be.
“She’s a grown woman. I’m sure she’s just having a little fun before the big day,” I assure the uptight widow. “Did you have cold feet before your wedding?”
“No, of course not,” she says. I’m pretty sure I hear an indignant scoff in her reply.
“Right. Because Adam was perfect, and you never had any doubts about how much you loved him or he loved you,” I mutter.
“What?” Charlotte asks, turning her face to me with her brow furrowed.
“Nothing. You want to dance?”
“No.” Her refusal comes before the question has barely left my mouth.
“All right. We’ll just sit out here and watch all of your friends have a good time.”
After a few moments of neither of us speaking, I can’t help but ask, “You haven’t been with anyone since Adam, have you?”
Squaring her shoulders, she says, “That’s none of your business.”
“I could make it my business,” I offer, to which she simply rolls her eyes.
A few seconds later, Charlotte faces me directly with her eyes blazing. “What Adam and I had was five years of marriage. He was my best friend, my soulmate, my…everything! And while he may be gone, that doesn’t mean that I’m ready to just forget him and move on with some one-night stand that would probably just be awkward and not very good.”
“Not very good?” I repeat loudly. “Woman, everything I do is in-fucking-credible, especially in the bedroom.”
“Sure it is,” she huffs with a shake of her head. “That’s what all men think, but women don’t want their brains screwed out in some quick rut. They want a connection. Romance. Friendship. Love.”
“And you don’t think it’s possible to have any of that with anyone other than your dead husband?”
“Wow, that’s some way to talk about your ‘friend’,” she replies, using air quotes while staring out at the crowd of sweaty, dancing bodies with what can only be described as longing on her face, regardless of what her mouth says. “How do you think Adam would feel about you hitting on me?” she asks.
“I think he would approve,” I tell her honestly, which makes her neck swivel in my direction again before she gets to her feet.
“Well, I don’t,” she says.
“All right then, let me rephrase that. I think he would want you to be happy.”
Charlotte’s eyes widen, and I swear I catch a glimpse of tears before she looks away. “I think I’ve had enough alcohol and loud music for one night. Goodbye, Roman,” she says as she begins to walk away.
“Leaving already?” I ask when I catch up with her. “You’ve been here less than an hour!”
“So?”
“So, I don’t think you know how to relax or have a good time.”
“I don’t really care what you think,” she says when she starts toward the dance floor, her eyes seeking out her friends. “Bev! Sydney!” she yells and waves at the women, who are dancing a few feet apart together. When they come over, she asks loudly, “Have you seen Ruth or Tessa?”
“Ruth is in line for the powder room,” Bev replies, pointing out the woman, who holds up a finger and does a dance that I’m pretty sure indicates she has an urgent need to take a piss.
“And Tessa?”
“She was just here!” Sydney exclaims. “Dancing with one of those hot biker guys.”
“His name’s Verek,” I inform them as I search him out in the crowd. “And…he’s gone too.”
“Gone?” Charlotte yells. “With Tessa?”
“Maybe. Is it still considered cheating if she goes home with him but isn’t married yet?”
“Yes!” all three women shout at me with their eyes narrowed like I’m the one who is screwing their soon-to-be-married friend.
“Maybe they just went somewhere to talk!” I offer, almost with a straight face, even though I don’t even buy that bullshit.
“Call him!” Charlotte demands.
“Fine,” I agree, pulling out my phone from my pocket. “Let’s head outside so I can hear better. Not that he’ll answer if he’s mid-thrust…”
“Roman!” Charlotte slaps my shoulder like it was supposed to hurt as I lead the way to the balcony.
“Just being honest.” Something her husband obviously wasn’t.
“Tessa wouldn’t sleep with anyone else! She loves Paul.”
“Right, because when you love someone, it’s impossible to ride someone else’s dick.”
Another scoff from Charlotte. “I-I can’t even with you!”
By now, we’re all outside; and as soon as the door shuts, it seals the music inside. We paid a small fortune to make the place as soundproof as possible to avoid neighboring businesses from bitching.
I find Verek’s number in my contacts and call him, putting the phone on speaker so the women can hear him too.
“Yo, what’s up, prez?” he answers.
“Where are you?”
“Just left, heading back to my place, why?” he asks, making all the women wince.
“You got a girl with you?”
“Fuck yeah,” he answers, causing Charlotte to emit a most unladylike curse.
“Do you know her name?” I ask.
“Why?”
“Just answer the question!”
“Ah, hold on. Hey, sweetheart, what did you say your name was? Daisy? That’s a beautiful name, darlin’. Now, run on inside the house, take off your dress and get in my bed,” he tells her before saying to me, “She says her name is Daisy, prez. Why?”
“So you’re not with the redhead you were dancing with, a girl named Tessa?”
“Nope,” he replies. “She said she needed to go get some air, but she didn’t come back, and then Daisy here saw me about to get on my bike out back and asked for a ride.”
“Right, yeah,” I tell him. “Sorry to bother you.”
“No problem,” Verek says before the phone beeps as he abruptly ends the call.
“So, good news. Your friend isn’t cheating on her fiancé,” I tell the women.
&
nbsp; “Then where is she?” Charlotte asks. She pulls her phone out of the tiny crossbody purse she is wearing and puts it to her ear while we all wait silently. “It went to her voicemail. Let me try texting her.”
“I’ll try calling her again too,” the older woman, Bev I think is her name, says.
“Let me see if she sent me any messages,” Sydney says as she looks at her phone. “Nope. Nothing. Maybe Ruth will run into her in the bathroom.”
“Run into who?” the other lady says when she finds our group, letting the music drift outside before the door shuts again.
“Tessa,” Charlotte explains. “Was she in the bathroom?”
“No. Why?”
“We can’t find her,” Bev explains. “Has she texted or called you?”
“I didn’t bring my phone. It’s back at the house,” Ruth replies.
“Crap!” Charlotte exclaims and runs her fingers through her long, straight hair in frustration.
“Maybe she had enough and went back to the beach house,” I suggest. “We can go downstairs and check with the bouncers at the front and back exits, see if they’ve seen her. Any of you have a photo on your phone?”
“Yes, I do. Thank you, Roman,” Charlotte says as she hands me her device with a photo of her and Tessa on the screen, both smiling at the camera in a selfie.
“Come on,” I tell the women, showing them the way down the steps on the far side of the building and taking them to the front where the line to get in still stretches down the boardwalk.
“Bruce, man, have you seen this woman?” I ask the bald bouncer, holding up the image.
“Ah, yeah, boss. She’s right beside you,” he says. He’s not the brightest bulb in the fucking box, but he can whip someone’s ass in a heartbeat. “The other one, with red hair,” I clarify. “What kind of dress was she wearing tonight?” I ask the women who are standing behind me.
“Green sequin,” Charlotte says.
“Oh yeah, Ariel,” Bruce says. “She came out about fifteen minutes ago or so and went that way.” He points with a big, meaty finger toward the row of stores on the strip, most of which are still open.
“Thank you!” Charlotte tells Bruce before she grabs her phone from me and takes off at a jog in that same direction with the other women following behind. I’m not the type to just stand around and do nothing, so I fall in behind them. “Tessa?” she calls out as she stops at each storefront. I lift my chin at the staff who all know me before Charlotte thrusts her phone in their face. “Have you seen her?”
“Yeah,” Mikey says. “Walked by a few minutes ago on her phone talking to someone in a rush, but she didn’t come inside here.”
“Thanks, man,” I tell him before Charlotte and the women take off to the next store.
We go through five more before we hit the end of the line. No other store clerks seem to have seen her.
“She must still be around here somewhere, right?” Charlotte says when she calls her friend again, still not getting an answer. “What are we going to do?”
“Well, she didn’t just disappear. The last clerk said she was standing on the sidewalk one second, and then a minute later he looked up and she was gone. Maybe she got an Uber home and didn’t want to spoil the night for the rest of you,” I offer.
“She wouldn’t have left to go home without telling us,” Charlotte mutters.
“Maybe…maybe she got sick and didn’t have time to tell us,” Bev offers.
“Not even time to call before she left in the Uber? No, that doesn’t make sense,” Charlotte says with a shake of her head.
“My feet are killing me,” Sydney says before removing her heels and taking a seat on the curb. “I can go back to the house and see if she’s there or not.”
“I’ll go with you and get my phone, see if I have any calls from Tessa,” Ruth says.
“Okay, you two go back and keep in touch. Bev and I will go across the street and talk to the clerks over there,” Charlotte tells them. “And you,” she turns to me. “You don’t have to keep following us around.”
“I don’t mind,” I tell her. “Besides, the locals all know me but not you, which makes them more willing to talk and not blow you off if I tag along.”
“Fine!” she huffs.
“I’ll ask our IT guy to pull up the surveillance videos, see what he can find,” I offer. “Send me that photo you have of her and a few others.”
“Okay. Thank you,” Charlotte replies with a sigh.
Charlotte
* * *
My head is pounding with worry, and my feet are one big blister by the time Bev and I walk through the door at the beach house a little after two a.m., well past the time when all the stores had closed on the strip and even the clubs and bars had started locking up.
“Did you find her?” Ruth asks from where she and Syd have been waiting in the living room.
“No.”
“This isn’t good,” Sydney says. “Do you think we should call her parents or Paul?”
“No, not yet,” I say. “It’s the middle of the night, and I don’t want to unnecessarily worry them when she could very well be off with…”
“With what?” Ruth asks when I pause.
“What if she went home with someone?”
“You think she would do that to Paul?” Syd asks.
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to be the reason everything goes to shit with him if she did.”
“So we’re going to wait until the morning?” Bev asks.
“Yeah, we’re going to wait and pray that she comes home or calls by noon tomorrow. If she doesn’t, then…”
“We’ll call her parents, Paul, and the police?” Ruth finishes.
“Yeah,” I say with a heavy sigh. “Until then, we should probably all try to get some sleep.”
“How can we sleep when we don’t know where Tessa is?” Bev asks.
“I know, it sucks,” I agree. “But all we can do for now is wait.”
Chapter Five
Roman
* * *
“Danny, hey. Did you find anything?” I ask the head of our IT team when he calls me back around one in the afternoon on Saturday.
“Yeah, Roman, I did. And it’s not good.”
“What do you mean?” I ask as my heart starts racing in my chest.
“I think it’s better if you see for yourself.”
“When can you get to the clubhouse?” I ask him.
“I’m already in the car on my way.”
“Good enough. I’ll see you in a few.” Ending the call, I head outside for a smoke while I wait for him to pull up.
Danny is barely out of his Jeep when I say, “Show me.”
Coming over, he pushes a few buttons on his iPad and then offers it to me. “Just hit play.”
I do, and then begin watching a dark, night scene of Ocean Blvd, people walking up and down the sidewalk the club is on, including a woman walking alone with her phone to her ear, her back to the camera. Still, it’s obvious to see that it’s Tessa with her red hair and sparkly dress.
“Is that all there is?” I ask him.
“Keep watching.”
Tessa eventually lowers her phone, clutching it in her hand near her side. By now she’s walked past around five or six stores, just as we were able to determine last night. She spins on her heels, facing the camera again like she’s going to start walking back. She only takes about three steps before a white van pulls up to the curb. Tessa turns her head to the passenger side, and it looks like she’s talking to them, her finger pointing off in the distance as if giving them directions.
Already, I’m getting a bad feeling before the side door of the van suddenly slides open. Two men jump out and grab Tessa. In the blink of an eye, she’s thrown into the back of the van, the men jump in, slam the door, and then it takes off down the road.
“Fuck!” I shout while my hands spontaneously bend the iPad damn near in half. This is even worse than we thought. Charlotte…god, th
e woman is going to have a nervous breakdown when she sees the video, but I have to show it to her. She deserves nothing but honesty, even when the truth will break her heart.
“Sorry,” I say when I hand the folded-up device with a cracked screen back to Danny.
“No problem,” he says when he takes the iPad back carefully and tries to bend it back into shape. “The, um, MC paid for it, and we have others. I can email a copy of the video to your phone as soon as I get back to the office.”
“Do that,” I tell him. “Were you able to get a license plate?” I ask, not worried about a few hundred dollars wasted on broken tech right now.
“I’ve got two guys working on it,” Danny says. “They’ll zoom in and get as much information as they can. But right now, all we know is that the tags are from North Carolina and the van has some sort of flooring business plastered across the side.”
“Keep working and let me know when you have something solid.”
“Absolutely. Sorry to bring you bad news on a Saturday.”
“It’s not your fault. I appreciate you working on your day off.”
“Something bad is going to happen to that woman,” he says sorrowfully. “Me and my guys will keep at it until we get everything we can find from the video.”
“Thanks. Now get back to work.”
When I get back inside, Winston and Conrad are hanging out at the bar.
“What’s up boss?” Conrad asks. “Everything okay?”
“No, it’s not,” I answer. “Get everyone in here ASAP for an emergency meeting. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Charlotte
* * *
“It’s more than an hour after noon,” Syd says as if I haven’t been watching the clock tick by every second since we got home last night. Twelve hours. It’s been twelve hours since our friend disappeared out of thin air without returning any of our calls or texts.
“I know,” I tell her.
“What are we going to do? Where is she?”
