What are you talking about?
Max
You saw her too?
Me
I swear, she just got off the bus I’m on. Like so positive, I’d let you turn my balls inside out
I tried to chase after her, but I lost her in the crowd
Kade
Are you actually suggesting that both of you not only saw her… but neither of you could find her minutes after spotting her?
Zane
Kade’s right there’s no way both of you could see her and lose her in minutes. It’s probably just stress.
There may be a good chance he’s right, and it could be stress that’s playing with our minds. Max and I have been under the most amount of stress out of the four of us. Even though we all lean on each other, Max and I seem to understand each other on a deeper level. A stronger connection that has formed between the two of us from being the underdogs of the group.
No matter what stress we’re under now though, there’s a feeling low in my stomach that I can’t seem to shake, telling me this is real. She’s not imaginary or a stress-induced illusion. She’s really here, in Miami and within our reach.
I told the guys we could talk about it more once we all got home this evening. Tomorrow is already going to suck enough as it is, and adding these sightings into the mix is only going to increase the suckage. Luckily, we’ll all be at home instead of being mopey buttheads surrounded by other people.
That’s one thing we all agreed on almost immediately.
On her day, every year without fail, we all take the day off and spend it together. On the third anniversary of her disappearance, the year she would have been eighteen, we all spent the day at the beach in our home town—the last place we were all together. Six years after, for when she should have been twenty-one, we bought her dream car, that damn purple Jeep. The only vehicle she ever had hersights set on. Year eight, we got matching tattoos of a bear cub as a way to honor and remember her.
Mine sits on my upper arm, proudly displayed for all to see whenever I’m without sleeves—which is a lot. Max has his on his back, Zane, the left side of his chest. The three of us are, to no one's surprise, covered in ink. So getting another piece was a no-brainer for us. A way to have a piece of our missing fifth friend that we could carry with us everywhere. It was Kade that surprised us when the idea got brought up.
He jumped at the opportunity, practically pushing us out the door to go get it done right away. That day he was the first one in the chair and meticulous as the artist placed the stencil against his calf, making sure he had it exactly where he wanted it. To this day, it remains the only piece of art on his body. And he has sworn to the high heavens, it will stay the only piece.
Chapter Eight
Mikayla
The past two days, I’ve stayed within the confines of this motel room. My only reprieve from these four walls was my brief trip to the ice bucket. As much as I want to stay hidden and avoid any more chance encounters, I need to get out before cabin fever sets in.
It’s Saturday, in one of the biggest party cities in the world. What do normal people—you know, who aren’t trained killers—do to have fun on a night like tonight? The pamphlets at the motel detail the local favorites. Surfing, restaurants, and guided tours, but none of them peak my interest, nor are they really nighttime activities. A quick phone search shows some more time-appropriate options. An arcade down the street, a karaoke bar a couple blocks over, ooh maybe a club? Drinks, dancing, bathroom sex? Sounds like a good time to me!
I refuse to pay for cab fare. Especially when they’ve all, more than likely, inflated their rates for tonight, taking advantage of drunk, stumbling idiots who don’t notice. Another Google search to see what's close by and my sights have been locked on Club LIV. According to my map, it’s right along the beachfront, which works out perfectly for me. Alcohol and the ocean can always make for a good time if done right.
Planning to arrive around ten-thirty this evening, I now have a few hours to shower and get ready without the pressure of being rushed. It’s been a while since I’ve dressed to the nines, showing off every curve and swell of my body.
Exiting the bathroom with a towel wrapped around myself, I take a quick stock of the outfits hanging in the little closet. I’ve amassed a nice collection of racy dresses and shirts after working for Colt for so many years. Of course, they were all given to me for assignments. Thrown my way as I was told to make myself look presentable, but at least I got to keep them. I mean, it’s not like the brawny men of the Havoc Vipers would be caught dead walking around in my tight neon pink miniskirt…
The garment in question catches my eye and my hands run over the stretchy fabric. It’s definitely a statement piece but I think I wanna try for something more sensual and closer to my everyday look, rather than walking around looking like I wrapped myself in bubblegum.
A black strapless dress grabs my attention next, the hem sitting just low enough on my thighs to cover my ass cheeks. The top dips low between my tits, a hard wire holding and lifting my girls until they’re sky high—exactly what I need. Grabbing it and my red bottomed fuck-me-heels—you know, just in case I meet another kind stranger tonight—I’m off to get ready.
Sometimes I wonder if I should be looked at mentally. Eighty percent of my time consists of thinking about sex in some way. How to get laid, where to find a guy, what’s easy to fuck in… I know it’s turned into some kind of addiction, but after being alone for so long, forced by another’s hand and unable to determine my own needs, can you blame me? One-night-stands are my equivalent of taking back something that was stolen from me all those years ago.My right to choose.
Own it, live it, love it, regret nothing.That’s my new motto.
Curling my hair to give it a little bounce—and hopefully keep the errant strays from flying all over—I finish off with winged liner, some mascara, and a bold red lip. Looking like a badass and feeling like a warrior of Satan himself, I grab my keys and heels and make tracks for the beach.
The warmth of the sand between my toes, and the rhythmic coming and going of the waves soothes me, mind, body, and soul. A fantastic way to relax everything before jumping into a club full of writhing and wriggling bodies, grinding on each other and looking for a fix.
