The inside is a blur of blue lights and crowds of people awkwardly interacting with one another. Aly could be anywhere in here, and I wouldn’t even begin to know where to look. She hasn’t texted me in almost fifteen minutes. I tell myself this isn’t a long time to wait for a response. Under any normal circumstances, I would seem desperate. But I don’t know how much she’s had to drink, whether she had the good sense to come with anyone or not, or who she’s with at the moment.
I arrive at the bar. It’s doubtful the bartender will be able to help. This isn’t an episode of Law and Order, and the man looks so overworked I’m convinced he’s taking shots under the table. But I have to start somewhere. “I’m looking for a redhead.”
He raises his hands upward. “Look, pal. We don’t offer that kind of service here. Just get me your drink order.”
“No.” I grit my teeth.
His response was so flawless, I wonder how many times he gets asked that in a night. “She’s a friend of mine. Short. Blue eyes, long red hair.”
He shakes his head, pouring drinks for another customer as he continues to talk. “She could have warts and an eye patch. I wouldn’t remember her. I’ve been slinging drinks all night, I can’t keep up with the faces.”
The bartender passes the finished drinks in his hands to another customer, then quickly sets to work with another order. I don’t know why I thought he might be able to help. I text Aly again. Maybe this time she’ll respond.
“Actually.” The bartender moves back into view, still pouring and tossing the drinks. He searches his memory, miming flipping through the files in his mind with one hand as if it helps him think. “I think, I do remember her. Completely wasted, right?”
I clench my jaw.Fuck. How bad is it? “Possibly.”
“Yeah, that I remember. We have to cut them off at a certain point.” He pauses for emphasis. “Girl was hammered. Anyway, her and the guy she was with went to sit down over there. I told security to keep an eye on it.”
The guy she was with?
I follow the location the bartender directed me toward. My heart rate spikes, swelling in my throat like a chunk of meat. What guy? It’s possible she could have come here with someone. Just because we kissed doesn’t mean she doesn’t have other dates. But if she did have someone with her, why would she have texted me? Why would she have said those things if she could have just had another man take care of it?
The aching in my throat slides down into my stomach. It clenches around my intestines like a vice. I don’t want to think of another man touching her, kissing her. Yet, for all I know, she’s here with some other man, and I can’t just barge in and demand she come home with me instead.
A small sitting area comes into view with couples lined up along the cushions with no regard for spectators. I see her, finally, standing beside some guy with his arm around her. He leans in to kiss her neck, but she pushes him away. Heat flares up in my chest. This man doesn’t know it yet, but this is not going to be a very good night for him.
I’m finally close enough to hear them.
“I want to go home,” she says, her voice weak and raspy, almost like she’s been screaming all night.
“Alright, baby,” the man says, and lifts her up off the couch. “Let’s go get you in a cab.”
She doesn’t look steady on her feet at all. How much did the girl have to drink? I couldn’t have upset her this much, could I? I intercept them just as they pass along a small walkway to the exit.
“Hey, buddy. I’ve got this,” I say, appearing on the opposite side of Aly and taking her arm.
The man jerks her away from me. “I don’t think so. The girl is coming home with me.”
“I don’t think that’s what she said she wanted.”
It’s taking all of my restraint at this point not to grab him by the shirt and toss him across the room. The video of a Hawthorne pummeling a sleazy son of a bitch would go viral in minutes. Not to mention the lawsuit. It’s almost worth it if he plans to do what I suspect he is, and equally as relieving to remove that smug grin off his face.
“Zach?” Aly says beside me. She sounds half-asleep.
“You know each other?” the man asks.
“Yeah.” I slip my arm around her waist and pull her against me. This time more forcefully, taking advantage of his confusion. “I’ve got her now, so you can go.”
“Wait a minute-”
He steps forward, and an instinct takes hold of me. I slam my hand into his chest, backing him up against the wall behind him and bracing him in place with my arm. He’s as surprised by the motion as I am, though I have no intention of backing down at this point. “Walk away.”
He nods, shaken, and scurries off like the rat he is.
“Zach.” The voice beside me softens the tension in my muscles. Her body slackens in my arms, limp like a plush toy.
“You okay?” I ask, and lead her toward the exit.