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“Oh shit,” I say, not meaning to say it out loud.
“What is it now?” Lexus asks, coming around from the driver’s side. She sounds exhausted, or possibly annoyed. Most likely a combination. Her black curly hair is bouncing around her shoulders as she applies another layer of lipstick. “Whatever you forgot, just borrow mine. We aren’t going home.”
“Tommy isn’t here yet,” Crop Top says, sounding winded as she scans the parking lot. Her tiny little hands are resting on her tiny little waist. It’s almost funny to see her stand next to Lexus and Carmen. There’s such a huge height difference. “Let’s beat feet and get inside before he sees we were late.”
I follow them to the front door, clutching my gaudy purse for dear life.
“Alaska, give me the key,” Carmen says, holding a hand out to Crop Top.
Alaska digs in her purse and pulls a key from the front pocket, handing it to Carmen. We walk through the front doors and into a large room, filled with tables, a bar, a stage, and multiple things hanging from the ceiling by ropes and chains.
I need to get out of here. I need to get home to my husband and my kids. Why haven’t they tried calling me? Why hasn’t anyone noticed I wasn’t home and called the police to file a missing persons report?
Frantically, I grab the purse and begin searching for a cell phone. I’m instantly mad at myself when I realize it should have been my first move instead of wondering why I had an expired license in my rhinestone bag.
I find a small phone hiding in the side pocket of the purse. It’s not my phone, but I can at least dial Nick’s number and ask him to come pick me up.
When I wake up the screen, I not only notice that the battery is at four percent, but that the backdrop is of me and these three women. We’re all dressed in skimpy outfits with our hair and makeup done like we just got done working a street corner.
I look up from the phone and notice everyone else is still walking toward the stage, but I stay behind and try to get a hold of my sanity.
Punching in Nick’s number, I press the phone to my ear and use my free hand to cover my other ear. The call is answered on the second ring and I start whispering frantically.
“Nick, you have to come get me-,”
Who is this?A woman’s voice asks on the other end of the line.
A woman!
“Excuse me?” My voice loses its edge of fear and immediately flips toward defensive at the femine tone that answers the call. “Who is this?”
You called my number.The woman says.You tell me whothisis.
“Look, I’m not mad that you’re with my husband. I get it. He’s pissed and I fucked up. I know he didn’t sleep with you so please. I just need to talk to Nick. Where is he?”
I think you have the wrong number.
The woman disconnects the call. Now I’m not only confused, but I’m pissed off. I dial the number again and drop my hand from my ear to rest it on my hip.
The same lady answers, but doesn’t let me get the first word in.
Listen, lady. I don’t know who you are, but my husband and I don’t know you or a Nick. So, stop calling this number or I’ll report you to the police for harassment.
She hangs up again and I swear I can hear her slam the phone down from wherever she is.
I decide not to try calling the number a third time.
Slipping the phone back into my pocket, I notice the girls have all disappeared down a hallway on the other side of the giant stage.
Having no way to get in contact with Nick, I race toward them and catch Carmen before they enter another room in the back of the building.
As the door slowly opens and I get a peek at what’s on the other side, my inner teenage girl goes ballistic.
It looks like a beauty store exploded here. Vanities are lined up next to each other with makeup piles scattered on each one. Each vanity mirror is covered with rope lights, and the walls are lined with clothes rack after clothes rack.
There are names labeled on each vanity and the three women I showed up with take a seat at their vanity.
Carmen. Lexus. Alaska.
