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The two sober girls weren’t so sure. And the other two girls, a little wobbly to begin with, began to sit up straight and take notice.
“Then I spoke with the manager of this bar,” I said. “But he’s in on it too. And the waitresses. I think this whole town is some sort of honeytrap. They lure us here and then figure out who they want to kidnap.”
“If what you’re saying is true,” the raven-haired beauty said, wavering on her seat. “Then there would be lots of girls who’ve gone missing.”
“They have,” I said, pointing. “Over there, in that alley, are missing girl posters. A wall of them. There’s hundreds of them. Maybe thousands.”
“Then why isn’t this on the news? Why hasn’t this place been investigated?”
I shrugged. “Maybe it has. Or maybe they bought everyone off.”
The friends shared uncertain looks.
“What do you want us to do?” the mousey one said.
“Spread out,” I said. “Tell everyone here they’re in danger. They’ll get kidnapped if they try to leave.”
“I’ve got an even better idea,” the raven-haired girl said. “How about we get another drink?”
As she waved a waitress over, the other girls, struggling to control themselves, finally burst out laughing.
“That is the best story I’ve heard in a long time,” the mousey one said, slapping the table. “You should be a comic.”
“I’m telling the truth…” I said, albeit a different version of it.
Sharon flicked her notebook open to jot down the order. Once the raven-haired beauty was done, she grabbed the waitress’s arm.
“Hold on a sec,” she said. “Maybe you can help us. This girl just sat with us and she says all the cops and the workers here are part of some kind of kidnapping ring. Is that true?”
Sharon looked from the raven-haired beauty to me. The fake smile fixed on her face flickered for just an instant. The others might not have noticed it, but I did.
My cover was blown. Thanks a lot, asshole.
“No,” Sharon said. “Of course not. Why would you believe such a thing?”
“I was… was only kidding,” I said, and my laugh was so fake I could have learned it from the Changeling’s school of acting. “Ha-ha.”
“You didn’t look like you were joking,” the girl wearing a red wig said.
“That’s how you tell a good joke, isn’t it?” I said, scrambling for an answer. “By making it sound real.”
I got to my feet. “Anyway, I guess I’ll be seeing you guys around.”
I came face to face with a pair of cops and froze.
They reached for their handcuffs.
I turned and ran, knocking a girl carrying cocktails on her ass.
The police tore after me.
By now, partiers in the street had stopped to watch. They exchanged looks but didn’t want to get involved. It was only a matter of time before a have-a-go hero did.
I skidded and changed direction, slamming the door of an Irish pub open. The customers paused in their conversations and turned to look at me.
I shouted into the eerie silence, “Everybody! Get out of here! This place isn’t what you think it is!”
One girl stood up. “Is there a fire?”
