On the Rocks(94)

“We lost her!” I yelled to the boys as people filed out of the bar and into the street by the piers.

“Gracie dancie!” Wolf sang as he grabbed me and spun me around.

“She’s a big girl. She’ll be fine,” Bobby said. “You looked good out there!”

“You think so?” I asked, continuing to dance toward home.

“No! Not at all, but you looked like you were having fun, so who cares.”

“I was. I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk tomorrow, my feet are so sore.”

“Another benefit of being at the beach. Shoes are optional.”

“You’re a genius,” I yelled as I twirled on the sidewalk.

I took my shoes off as we walked home in a drunken haze, singing and laughing, enjoying the perfect night air and one another. When we got back to the house, we sat on the porch with more beer, a bag of Tostitos, a jar of salsa, and a pack of cigarettes for Bobby. We stayed there for a few more hours, having so much fun that none of us wanted the night to end—so much fun that none of us thought twice about the fact that Grace never came home at all.





Chapter 23



It Doesn’t Count if You Have to Blow Them Up or Pay Them by the Hour




I WOKE THE NEXT MORNING still in my clothes, lying on top of the covers on my bed. I reached for my bag on the nightstand, checking to make sure my credit cards and driver’s license made it home with me. I found both my cell phone and Grace’s and tried desperately to remember how I had gotten home. No dice.

I begrudgingly dragged myself out of bed and outside to the porch, where Bobby was drinking coffee and reading an article on his iPad. I had no idea why he was here so early, but I was happy to see him. I was hoping he could piece together the night for me.

“Hey,” I said quietly as I sat down next to him and threw both cell phones on the table. My queasy stomach and pounding head made it hard to even blink my eyes. I was too old to be hungover like this. One of the other side effects of getting older was that hangovers seemed to get exponentially worse.

Bobby slid his iPad out of the way and pushed his coffee mug across the table. I took a sip and immediately felt my stomach lurch. Adding caffeine to the copious amounts of alcohol no doubt still sloshing around in my stomach was probably not a good idea, but my headache couldn’t have cared less if the coffee came from the head of the Colombian drug cartel—it wasn’t turning it down. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his sunglasses making it impossible to determine if he was actually looking at me or not.

“Okay,” I said as I continued to drink his too-strong coffee. “I don’t remember getting home last night, to be honest. What did we do to ourselves?”

“Yeah, you were pretty blitzed by the end there, not that I was sober at that point either. I think we might have overdone it a little.”

“We’re old,” I said sheepishly. “I can’t drink the way I used to.”

“Speak for yourself. I feel great.”

“Seriously?”

“No, I actually feel like shit. My headache woke me up. I came over here because Wolf was listening to European techno music and I couldn’t stand it. But a little hangover is a small price to pay for a great night out.”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” I said as I rested my head on the table. “Where’s Grace?” I asked, hoping to turn the conversation away from me and my drunken activities from the night before.

“Haven’t seen her. We lost her in the bar last night. I called her before we left, but then your bag started ringing and I realized you had her cell. There was nothing else I could do.”

“So we just left her there?”

“Or she left us. I looked all over for her, but I couldn’t find her anywhere, and she looked like Big Bird in that bright yellow dress. I think I would’ve spotted her if she was there. Don’t worry, I’m sure she’s fine.”

I sighed. I was sure she was too, but I didn’t like the idea of her not having her phone on her. Newport wasn’t exactly a high-crime town, but still, there are some things that a drunk girl shouldn’t be without. A cell phone topped that list. Pepper spray was right below it, provided you weren’t well versed in how to use nunchucks.

“Well, I’m relieved I made it home in one piece and managed not to lose a shoe or my bag or something. Though I’m not sure why I slept in my clothes.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Huh?”

“I put you into bed last night. You were hysterical. You couldn’t walk a straight line, and you kept singing ‘Anchors Away’ to a bunch of the sailors on the sidewalk. You can’t sing, by the way.”

“The least of my problems,” I moaned.

“No arguments there. Anyway, I figured it was better to leave you in your clothes. I have a rule: I don’t undress drunk girls for any reason.”

“You, my friend, are one of the last true gentlemen.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“I’m sorry. I appreciate it.” Then small flashes of the night before started to play through my mind. There was a dance floor incident. There were shots. There was a woman in a red dress that had gone out of style sometime around the Flashdance era. Slowly, pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into place. Grace was doing shots with a bunch of sailors, and then she was gone.