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I’m not sure how much more of Bianca’s fake giggling I can take. Now, they’re comparing vacation homes. I don’t even try to hide rolling my eyes. I begin to fantasize, this time about returning to Bianca’s home and relaxing on her plush, downy bed. I left my true crime book at home, but I’m sure I can find something to stream that will satisfy me.
When Ian stands up and changes barstools so that both he and Chad surround Bianca, I promise myself just five more minutes. In less time than that, both guys have a hand on Bianca’s knee and I’ve finally had enough.
“B,” I mumble, trying not to interrupt, but Bianca flashes me a dirty look all the same.
“What?” Bianca snaps.
“I’ve got a bit of a headache. I think I need to head back to your house,” I reply, biting my lip.
“See ya later, Mer,” Bianca replies, then she quickly bows her head to resume her conversation with Chad and Ian.
Really?I think, sitting there just a moment to collect my purse from the back of the stool.Talking about your father’s flashy boats and cars is more important than how your best friend gets home.I’m angry, but just for a moment. I really should be used to this by now. Bianca will apologize later for dropping me for a dude, or in this case, two, but that’s just the way my best friend operates. It’s the way all friendships function, I assume.
I stand up and push in my barstool, but Bianca and the guys don’t even look up. I shift from foot to foot while I wait for a break in conversation.
“See ya at home, B,” I say, feeling too weary to smile. Or maybe the alcohol has gone to my head. I nod towards Chad and Ian, still enough of a Southern belle to remain polite, even to the bitter end. “Goodnight, fellas,” I manage.
Both Chad and Ian smile and bid me goodnight, but I can see behind their facade. They’re relieved that I’m leaving. I’m not thekind of girl that they’re looking for and my personality isdefinitelytoo much for them, maybe even my body, too.
I saw eyes all over Bianca’s slim physique, but never caught the guys checking me out. I had the bikers’ attention, at least.
I hold my head high as I wind my way out of the crowded bar, but I don’t think that anyone is watching me. When I stumble in my unfamiliar high heels, I’m glad.
I hold on to the doorframe to steady myself and the muscled bouncer sneers at me. He has no reason to sneer, not when he’s wearing a tight t-shirt that looks like it came from a women’s store. I debate telling him as much, but then my eyes range over his bulging muscles. The room seems to sway.
I’m drunk,I realize with a gasp. And, apparently, booze makes me feelquiteargumentative.
I keep my mouth closed and jerk my hand away from the doorframe. With all the dignity that I can muster, I take slow and careful steps all the way out of the front door of the bar.
The fresh air seems to help, but when I look down the stairs to the sidewalk, the world seems to shift underneath me again.Shit, I think, swearing in my head. It’s something I try not to do, but I think this situation calls for it.
I should have known better than to go out with Bianca to a bar. This always seems to happen: I’m deserted the second Bianca meets some guy, and shealwaysmeets some guy. Except this time it is worse, because it’s late at night and I’m drunk for the first time ever.
I take a deep breath and begin my slow descent down the concrete staircase. My knuckles have turned white from gripping the banister so tightly. I’ve got to get away from the view of the bouncer and all the partiers congregating on the patio. I don’t want to be within eyesight. I’m afraid that I might get sick.
I thank my lord and Savior when I make it down the stairs without further incident. I try not to hobble, but these heels are beginning to pinch my feet as I scamper down the sidewalk.
I reach the corner and turn. If I walk just a few more yards, I’ll be safely hidden in the privacy of this less congested side street. There’s no one around and I fish my cell phone out of my purse to summon another ride-share. Or maybe a taxi. I’m really not sure at this time of night. I don’t think I’ve ever been out this late before.
I grumble to myself, pressing buttons on my phone. Why won’t the screen hold still? It’s very difficult to read and I squint my eyes to improve my focus.
I’m completely unaware of my surroundings, completely concentrating on my phone.How am I going to get back to Bianca’s?I worry as my fingers stab the buttons.
I hear nothing over the sound of the occasional car driving by and the faint music coming from the bar. I certainly don’t hear the sounds of footsteps sneaking up behind me.
Strong arms wrap around my waist and shoulders like a vise. I can barely breathe. I’m too disoriented to even scream.
Chapter 5
Marigold
My cell phone slips from the grasp of my fingers and tumbles to the pavement. It lands with a thud, but I don’t make a single sound. Even when I experience the sensation of my entire body being lifted into the air.
“Don’t you dare scream,” A deep voice growls into my ear and I feel like all of my hairs are standing on end.
I should scream, but I can barely breathe. My body is paralyzed with fear.
I’m being carried and I realize that we’re heading to the van that is just a few feet away, parked along the side of this quiet side street.
