ONE
A PARTY OF FOOLS
Vivian
I shouldn’t be here.
Actually, we shouldn’t be here.
I glance around the rundown bar, attempting to keep track of my group of friends, my anxiety going haywire. I need eyes in the back of my head, supersonic hearing, and eight hands to keep this crew in line.
And that’s on a good day at a country club soiree.
I’ve done a fair job of keeping everyone out of trouble so far, but that could easily change since I now need the restroom in the worst way, and this isn’t the place with a restroom that can accommodate more than one or two. And since I’m trying not to draw unnecessary attention to myself, attempting to cram all of us in a tiny bathroom is out of the question.
Giving up, I turn to the girls sitting primly around the table, a farce if I’ve ever seen one. “I need to use the bathroom. Don’t move.”
Their closed-lip smiles do nothing to assuage my concern, and I give them all stern looks before giving up and scurrying off to tend to nature.
Of course, the bathroom is occupied, so I stand outside the door, shuffling from foot to foot, chancing the odd glance back at our table without losing my spot at the front of the growing queue. Finally, the door opens, and I scowl as a man and woman tumble out, obviously adjusting their clothing and her smeared lipstick all over his face.
I don’t waste any time giving them a hard time, instead choking back my snarky response as I enter the bathroom and slam the door closed. Locking it, I work to drop my pants as I rush to the toilet, barely managing to hover appropriately before my bladder taps out.
Groaning in relief, I mutter curses at my own idiocy, wishing I had listened to my extensive cons list when I got this hare-brained idea to enter the lion’s den with my friends in tow. At this very moment, it’s difficult for me to recall why I thought there was any pros at all, though I suppose coming here alone would’ve been even stupider.
I finish up, flush the toilet, and move to the sink. Washing my hands, I stare at my reflection, sighing at how tired and harassed I look—sad, worried.
Cursing some more, I rip a paper towel off the roll, drying my hands as I mutter to my reflection. “This was stupid. It’s time to go.”
Nodding at my decision, I turn to leave, but then stop as pain jackknifes through me. Because I can’t just go. Not without Gemma.
Thinking about my missing sister immediately sends me into a tailspin, my breath catching on my throat, sweat popping out down my spine. I turn the cold water back on, letting it run for a minute and then splashing some on my face as I work to calm myself enough to go back out there and focus on why I came here.
Walking back to our table, I take a quick headcount. Stopping dead in my tracks, I count again, and then again, panic rushing over me as I realize Evie is no longer seated where I left her. Hurrying the rest of the way to the table, I stop in front of them, slapping my hand down on the rough service. “Where’s Evie?”
Everyone starts from my sudden return, then they all look to each other and then around the room, everyone saying something but not actually telling me anything. I glance between them, anger boiling up inside me as no one seems to have a clear idea where the petite blonde girl went. I straighten and then glance around the room, my gaze stopping at each group before finally scanning the edges of the room.
And that’s when I see it. A red door at the very back of the room, a warning emblazoned in large block letters:
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK
Shit.
I turn back to my friends, motioning to the door with my chin as I ask, “Did she go back there?”
They all look to where I’ve indicated, and then Krystin turns back to me with a nod. “I think I did see her head off in that direction.”
Cursing, I rub my hand over my face, dread pooling in my belly as I go over my very limited options. Leave her to her own poor choices, or go get her.
Resigned to the fact I’m not the type to leave my friends to their questionable decisions, I rest my palms on the table, leaning down as I say, “You all need to go to the car and wait for me.”
They glance at each other, but say nothing as they get to their feet, quickly gathering their belongings. A hand on my arm draws my attention, and I raise my eyes to meet Krystin’s worried gaze as she asks, “What are you going to do?”
With a heavy sigh, I push off the table, straightening to my full height, my chin lifting stubbornly as I meet her gaze head-on. “I’m going to go get her.”
Kyrstin’s lips press together, indecision on her face as she searches my eyes. I can see she wants to argue, that she wants to give me a laundry list of reasons why that’s a bad idea, the first one being I tend to go off the handle sometimes, and maybe this isn’t the place for hurricane Vivian.
But after a moment, she nods and follows our friends out of the building. I turn toward the red door, squaring my shoulders, centering my inner crazy for the lengths I may have to go to get my friend out of what could very well equate to the pits of Hell.
