Page 13 of The Addict

“Well, I’m sorry but my friend and I are leaving now,” I declared, perhaps a little too loudly. “Tell him we don’t want it.”

I spun on my heels, making sure to leave the bottle on the table.

“Chels–”

I did a double take around the room. Chelsea was no longer standing in line at the bar. She wasn’t anywhere to be found. I sighed in frustration and spied around, but saw nothing but the curious onlookers. I would’ve heard her had she been in the vicinity anyhow. She wasn’t easy to miss.

So how didn’t I notice her leaving?

I ripped my phone out of my purse and punched in her number. The line rang and rang, but no answer. I trotted across the space to the sign marked “restrooms” but the employees were already in there, cleaning.

“Hey, I’m looking for my friend,” I said, trying my best to steal a glance in the restroom. I teetered a bit on my feet.

“Empty,” the worker muttered. “We’re about to close.”

As if I didn’t know that.

I trailed back to the bar where workers were hurriedly cleaning glassware. I set my bag down on the counter and waved to get their attention.

“Hey! Excuse me, uh, my friend was just here, ordering more drinks? She’s loud and blonde and I can’t find her.”

One of the younger workers rolled their eyes. The manager responded with a point, no eye contact, “She just left that way. Hopefully getting a safe ride home, just like you’re going to need.”

I groaned. Just drunk enough to understand that these workers would be no help to me. They were fed up and ready to clock out. Just my luck that Chelsea probably saw and followed a man out of the bar and I would have to go searching for her. Or even worse, Chelsea might have tried to head to her car, and she was incredibly drunk.

What did either of those scenarios equal?

Disaster.

Shit, now I would have to play babysitter. Which I knew was going to happen, except I hadn’t intended on drinking more than my tolerance would allow. I needed to get better about standing my ground. Why was I such a damn push over?

I marched out of the bar, determined to catch her before she made a mistake and got behind the wheel. My gait was unstable, so I took a few moments to steady myself.

I couldn’t exactly remember which block we had parked on to cross over to the bar, but I knew it wasn’t far. The car should have been within my line of sight.

The streets were empty.

Wonderful. I thought bitterly.

If Chelsea had ended up ditching me, I was going to need to find an alternative way home.

I stumbled around the side of the bar. Maybe we had parked on the opposite side? I was struggling to recall. I followed the brick building around, ending up in an alley behind the bar. It was gross and deserted, and after looking it over I wasn’t sure I could even access the other side of the street from there. I felt like I would have remembered if we had come this way. My eyes fell upon a rusted, blue dumpster and my stomach flipped from the smell.

Was there a dead animal in there?

I walked no more than five steps before my stomach lurched and I ended up emptying the contents of it all over the ground next to the filthy dumpster. I knew it was coming, and that was exactly what I deserved for drinking, and letting Chelsea pressure me into overdoing it.

“Ugh...” I dragged the back of my hand across my mouth and took a few steps down the lonely alley, mentally creating an elaborate plan to find a ride home and be safe in bed by no later than three o’clock. I would probably have to just get an uber or lyft.

My head was pounding and I tripped once, catching myself on the side of the building before my face met the jagged ground. The world was turning fast. Holy fuck, what have I done to myself?

A door slammed shut near me. A deep countenance penetrated my clouded mind. “So, you don’t like wine, huh?”

I lifted myself upright and turned towards the voice, falling flat on my ass. Looming above me, I saw the man from inside. The other two men stood behind him, like they were his bodyguards. Maybe they were his bodyguards. I didn’t care.

“I’m going home,” I said drunkenly, stupidly, as though he had asked me. I stiffly pointed down the alley, towards the street.

“So soon?” he questioned, taking a step closer.