My rage morphs to worry, stomach knotting. I’m going tofucking lose my mind. She’s not with a man, but drinking alone? Is she kidding me with this shit?
Me: Stop. It’s late.
Private: Not really. I’ll be passed out before midnight.
That shoves me back on track. It’s one thirty here, so that puts her in Pacific time, which narrows down her location to four states. Well, five, including the northern part of Idaho, but it’s doubtful there are many gothic nightclubs up that way that attract huge crowds, so I should be able to rule it out quickly. After a quick search, I find only one, and it’s closed on Tuesdays.
Me: Are you safe? In a hotel?
From what I can tell, there seems to be about twenty gothic nightclubs in California. Five in Washington. Four in Oregon. And seven in Nevada. Doable.
Private: Yeah.
Me: A safe one?
Private: It’s nice.
Her responses are getting shorter. Either she’s tired or she knows I’m probing for details. But a little more could have me to her by morning.
Me: A safe one?
Me: Good view?
Private: Decent. Prettier than at home.
Me: Must be fun to have something different to look at. I enjoy a change in scenery. Cities. Elevations. The ocean. I’ve always liked the water.
Private: A beautiful beach is on my bucket list. The ones near home aren’t the best.
Sounds like she isn’t at one now, which would axe many of these clubs.
Me: Maybe someday. You aren’t walking in a city alone, are you? Is the gothic club near your hotel?
Private: Not too far. I was careful. Thanks for chatting.
Me: Don’t go yet. I was lonely before you texted too.
Private. I wish things were different. I’m tired and super tipsy.
I’ll be delving into thewish things were differentcomment later, but before she ends this, I go for what I need most.
Me: Tell me where you are. My promise still stands.
Private: I don’t think we’re there yet.
If this were any other scenario, I’d commend her for being wise. She should be leery of whom to confide in. But not with me. Whatever this is, that’s not how it’s going to work.
Me: Text me in the morning so I know you don’t have alcohol poisoning.
Private: Maybe.
Private: Probably not. I wouldn’t text you sober.
Nothing else comes through. That’s all she says. And I’m left wondering what the fuck that means.
She wouldn’t text me sober? Why the hell not?
I send one more message before I snatch my go bag.
