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Three hours later, she locked the bar doors, loaded up Charlie, and drove home to her condo. She’d no sooner shut her front door and dropped her purse when her cell phone rang. What the heck? It was two in the morning. This couldn’t be good.
“Hello,” Lizzie said.
“Lizzie,” Bella whispered. “It’s Bella. I need your help.”
Lizzie jotted down the address and left immediately, leaving Charlie sleeping on the couch. She pulled into the driveway of a huge two-story Victorian on the lake. Hip-hop music blared from inside. Probably some rich kid throwing a party while his parents were out of town. Bella was waiting on the porch.
“What’s goin’ on?” Lizzie asked. Bella smelled of alcohol and was unsteady on her feet.
“It’s Maya,” Bella said. “She’s pretty drunk, and there’s a guy here giving her a hard time.”
“Why don’t you guys leave?”
“Our friend Taylor was the DD. We were supposed to spend the night at her house, but she got sick and left us stranded. I didn’t know who else to call. I don’t want Uncle Edward to know, and Maya’s dad can’t find out either.”
“Let’s find your friend,” Lizzie said, heading toward the door.
Bella panicked when Maya wasn’t in the living room. “I shouldn’t have left her,” Bella said. “She obviously didn’t want to be alone with Devon.”
Lizzie searched the house, starting with the bedrooms upstairs. Behind one door, she heard high-pitched protests. She shoved open the door to find a teenage kid with his arms around a terrified girl. Both were still dressed, but Lizzie knew from experience how quickly this kind of thing could go south. She grabbed the guy by the hair and yanked his head back. “Beat it,” she growled into his ear.
“Who are you?”
“I’m your worst nightmare,” Lizzie said. “Get your sorry ass out of here. Now.”
The teen wisely backed out of the room without saying another word. Bella ran to Maya, who was crying. “Are you okay?”
Maya looked at Lizzie. “Thank you,” she said. “I thought he just wanted to make out. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Let’s go,” Lizzie said. She loaded the girls into her car and took them back to her place. They would get a stern lecture on the perils of underage drinking from her tomorrow, but it was too late tonight.
After making them each drink a bottle of water, she put them to bed in the guest room. Exhausted, she took a quick shower to wash away the day, then fell into bed.
She’d barely drifted off when “Red Red Wine” blaring from her phone woke her. The caller ID showed an unknown number.
“This better be good,” she mumbled.
“Elizabeth Parker?” a man’s voice asked.
“Yes.”
“You own The Drop on Main Street?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Who’s this?”
“New Bern FR. We need you to come down here right away.”
“Fire department? What’s going on?” she asked.
“Your bar’s on fire.”
