Road Trip - a novelette

Part 1 - Las Vegas

The crisp, early morning breeze penetrated Rachael’s loosely woven sweater, fingered her long black hair, and caressed her exposed legs. Savoring the cup of steaming coffee nestled in her hands, deep in thought, she endured the morning’s invigorating breath while Sally, their Chocolate Lab, snuffled the multitude of scents that had deposited on the deck overnight. Aside from her long, drawn-out huffling and the white noise of city traffic, all was silent.

It hadn’t been spring’s ambiance that brought her outside that particular Monday morning, rather, a deep sense of pensiveness from the cry that had awakened her last night. Not the squall of a sick child, the scream of one frightened, nor the angry bawl of a tantrum. No, this was a long, piercing shriek that knifed her very soul and screamed in her ears. Silenced the moment she awoke, it left her wondering whether it had been audible, mental, or spiritual.

Rachael lay in bed staring at the ceiling, eyes wide, heart hammering her chest and pounding her temples while Mark lay next to her sleeping soundly. A tear slid down the side of her face. Her breath came quick and shallow from the image invoked by the long wail of desperation, of hopelessness, a spirit ripped of innocence and then of life. A small boy with short black hair, wearing a blue and white striped T-shirt, khaki cutoffs from which spindly legs protruded, tattered leather shoes, and lying on... she couldn’t tell. His eyes locked onto her with a final, desperate plea.

Rachael had climbed out of bed and descended the darkened stairs carefully, not trusting her balance. She stood on the front steps listening, wiping cold trickles of tears from her face. When night’s chill drove her inside, she moved to the back deck. It had taken her hours to go back to sleep, from which she awoke time and again in a state of panic.

She remained in bed as Mark rose, dressed, and went to work. Listening to his every move as he made a fried egg sandwich - two eggs, on of which served as Sally’s appetizer - then filled his travel mug with coffee and left through the front door. His police issued RAV 4 started up and she listened to him drive away. Meanwhile, Anna and Dakota rose, made small talk as they got ready for school, had a bowl of cereal each and from the lapping sounds, the leftover milk served as Sally’s second appetizer. Then hurried out to catch the bus. Anna had completed driver’s ed but they were still working out the details of her car, which, in her opinion, was taking far too long. Dakota had already picked his car, but Rachael knew that he wasn’t ready for the horsepower he wanted. That would be a fight in the making.

The cry came again with such suddenness that Rachael startled, slopping her coffee. Adrenaline sent her heart into rapid, staccato beats, her throat tightened. This was no latent memory or figment of her imagination, she heard it just as clearly as last night and it went on, and on. Then, as with last night, suddenly and forcefully silenced. She glanced at Sally for affirmation, but the ever-attentive Lab went about her business uninterrupted.

A cold gust of wind nudged her,and dormant shrubbery rattled to get her attention. Scraps of garbage and empty sacks flew across the grassy common area. Sally lifted her nose and sifted through the myriad of scents before turning and giving Rachael a puzzled look. Her coffee turned cold and bitter, acidic with aftertaste.

Time to go inside.

She had two hours to shower, dress, and feed Sally before ’Lyss, or Alyssa, picked her up for their road trip. All things considered, it would do well to keep herself occupied.

Until last night, Rachael had been anticipating the next few days of lounging in the warm Nevada sun and doing nothing other than eating, drinking, and being as lazy as she dared. Now staring at herself in the window’s reflection, she found herself at a dubious crossroads. That was the problem with the spirits: they offered insight without guidance. She oftentimes didn’t know whether she was running into a situation or from it, but then again, that may be as intended.

“Spoiled brat,” Rachael lightly scolded Sally, who positioned herself at her feet demanding breakfast. What a blessing to be a carefree animal.

To Sally’s dog food, Rachael added several slices of roast beef that wouldn’t survive another day, then stood surveying the refrigerator’s contents as the Lab greedily wolfed down her food. The well-stocked fridge contained nothing appetizing. What she really wanted was a Bloody Mary. Maybe two. After all, it was an acceptable breakfast drink and the pulpy, spicy, tomato juice filled her as fully as a plate of ham and eggs. Unfortunately, if she wanted one, it would have to be made from scratch since there was no mix in the house, and unless she wanted it virgin, she’d have to use the Devil’s Cut bourbon Mark used for cooking Pheasant and grouse. Had there even been Vodka in the house, Rachael didn’t want just any Bloody Mary. It had to be the perfect Bloody Mary, spicy enough to offer a solid burn, and garnished with shrimp, bacon, sweet gherkins, garlic-stuffed olives, celery, and pickled asparagus. A tall glass of decadent, deep scarlet elixir infused with a salad of condiments.

Sighing with disappointment, she mounted the stairs to shower and dress. Although ’Lyss was in no hurry, she didn’t want her best friend to wait just because she couldn’t get her act together.

Six weeks ago, ‘Lyss invited Rachael on a trip to Las Vegas where she would be free to enjoy all that Sin City had to offer, while ‘Lyss attended the National Lawyers Conference. As her guest, Rachael would accompany ’Lyss to socials, dinners, and events. Registration was at noon tomorrow, followed by an afternoon meet-and-greet. Rather than leaving at an ungodly hour tomorrow morning, they decided to leave today and spend the night with Rachael’s parents in Ivins, which was a little over half way.

Rachael showered and dressed for comfort. Their formal evening gowns and business attire were already hanging in the back seat of Alyssa’s car.

’Lyss, or Alyssa, was Larry’s beautifully curvaceous wife with an even more stunning personality. Standing a couple inches shorter than Rachael, whose lean shapely figure spoke of her earlier racing and modeling careers, the two turned heads when out in public. Husbands Mark and Larry worked in the same precinct where Mark was detective and Larry a lieutenant. Both men were senseis in the same karate club, often hunted together, and did all sorts of man-things that didn’t make sense to Rachael. Tucker, ’Lyss and Larry’s only child, was a year behind Dakota and three behind Anna.

Rachael climbed into Alyssa’s Cadillac CT6 after stowing her luggage in the trunk. Small talk carried them through the city and once they began their southbound journey on I-15, Rachael asked about the children living in their gated community, even though she knew all the kids through Anna and Dakota.

“I know Doreen has two kids, but they’re three and four. Renee and Pete have a boy who’s graduating. Why?”

“I heard a little boy screaming in the middle of the night.” Rachael forced herself to admit. “Maybe six or seven years old, I guess. I heard it again this morning while I was having coffee.”

“What do you mean, ‘was’ about six or seven?”

“Did I say that?”

“Past tense, honey. Maybe someone’s babysitting a kid.”

“Maybe. It didn’t feel like it, though.”

“The Funks have three kids about that age, five, seven and eight, but I saw them catch the school bus. There’s a couple of families on the opposite side with kids about that age, but that would be too far away to hear.”

Rachael sat unresponsive.

“You’re not having another one of ‘those’, are you?”

Rachael continued staring ahead.

“If we need to go back...”

“Oh heavens, no! Don’t even think of it.”

“Well then, I don’t know what else to say, except ask Larry or Mark to have a looky-loo.”

“No. I’d hate to make a fool out of myself. Besides, it may not have happened yet.”

“Wishful thinking?”

“Hardly. I’d rather know about something that’s already happened, rather than worry about what to do when it does. I just hope I’m not jinxing our trip.”

’Lyss gave Rachael a critical look. “Is this the first time you heard it?”

“Yeah. It hit me last night. And I mean hit.”

“You said it was a boy, did you see anything or just hear him?”

Rachael described her vision, softly adding, “I think he died. I think I was with him when he did.”

“Damn. That’s never happened before.”

“No. Not like this. They’re never this obvious, they’re always more cryptic. Not as graphic.”

“Why would this different?”

Rachael shook her head. “Impact? Making sure it was nothing I could explain away or brush off, maybe?”

“Still, if you think we need to go back.”

“No, we’re going on this trip. I’m hungry,” Rachael said, changing the subject. “I couldn’t eat anything.”

“If you’re sure about it. Let’s stop in Provo for an early lunch. We won’t be in Ivins until one or two this afternoon and I’m already famished.”

“Good idea.”

Following lunch, the drive to Ivins passed quickly. Although they were neighbors and best of friends, Rachael and ’Lyss didn’t spent a great deal of time together, occasionally going weeks without talking. To be sure, they shopped together, met for an occasional lunch or dinner, and worked out in the same Yoga class at the community clubhouse when it fit their schedules. Other than that, they lived separate lives which, when they came together such as this, the conversation flowed.

’Lyss pulled into the driveway of a manicured adobe house and Rachael speculated, as she always did, on how small it really was. As a child it seemed palatial when in reality, it was a simple three bedroom, one bath home that set on an acre of land. Behind a large lawn that was only now starting to green up from the winter, set an even larger garden area. Every year, as far back as Rachael could remember, they planted peppers, chilies, corn, pole beans, squash, a few melons, and a large patch of tomatoes.

The master bedroom was not large, but seemed so in comparison to the two small bedrooms that Rachael and her two sisters once shared. Ellen, the oldest, had a bedroom to herself while Rachael and Cara shared the room with bunk beds. When Ellen left home, Rachael as the next oldest moved into it, then finally Cara, when Rachael moved out. Their parents now kept the bunk beds for visiting grandchildren.

‘Lyss had no more pulled into the driveway when Cara slung the front door open. Of the three, she was the most animated and wore her heart on her sleeve. Round face beaming with joy, short black braid bouncing on her shoulders, she all but ran to greet Rachael. Cara stood several inches shorter and had a more matronly figure and was, in Rachael’s opinion, the more beautiful of the three sisters. Yvette, Rachael’s mom, followed. Her long salt and pepper hair glistened with a silky quality under the bright afternoon sun, and Rachael noticed that her face had weathered a little more since her last visit. She embraced ’Lyss warmly as Cara and Rachael stood clamped together in a hug, as though it had been years, not months, since they had last seen each other.

Casting aside Rachael and Alyssa’s obligatory protests, Yvette and Cara brought in their luggage.

“I’m sorry you missed your dad,” Yvette said. “He and Dwight are looking for a couple of horses over at Jacobs Fork.”

“Whose?”

“They’re ours,” Cara said. “A flash flood took out a section of fence and the two paints in the east pasture got out. Dad went with Dwight and the kids to find them. Rache, it’s so good to see you!” She said, giving Rachael’s hand another squeeze.

“You too, sis. How’s everyone doing?”

“Couldn’t be better. We’ll have to get together this summer for a reunion, just the immediate family.”

“Perfect. But you know it’s never ‘just the immediate family’,” Rachael reminded her.

“Semantics. I’ll start planning.”

Once they were settled in and the excitement abated, Yvette offered to show ’Lyss her weaving room.

“I would love to see it,” Alyssa said, adding with a hint of playful sarcasm, “Rachael’s told me about it but apparently somebody isn’t willing to take pictures.”

“Pictures. Phaw! Come and see for yourself. We’re in the middle of spring break and the tourists over in St. George are thicker than flies. It happens every year but of course, I’m never ready.”

Leading them into a workroom that had been skillfully added onto the back of the house, one would think from looking at it, that it had been part of the original build. Large tinted windows and a skylight let in ample light and offered a nice view of the back yard, garden, and hillside beyond. A large loom held a half-finished woolen blanket while four beautifully finished blankets set folded on a table next to several large bags of wool skeins.

“Those are beautiful!” Alyssa exclaimed.

“I’ve been busy weaving blankets and ponchos so I’m getting low on yarn. If you have time, maybe tomorrow we can go over to Mitzi’s and pick up some wool she just finished dying for me.”

“We’d love to,” Rachael said, “but ’Lyss needs to be in Las Vegas by noon,”

“A lawyer’s conference, didn’t you say? What are you going to do while ’Lyss is conferencing?”

“Being lazy.”

“You be careful, the city’s changed a lot since you were a kid.”

“It hasn’t changed that much, mom.”

“More dangerous now. It was safer when the Mob ran things. They made the rules and enforced them. Now, all that’s on the news now are robberies, rapes and murders, and that’s only what gets reported.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine. I grew up here, remember?”

“You’ve also been away for a long time. Remember?”

Rachael awoke the following morning heavy with nostalgia. Her old bed was still comfortably uncomfortable, and fresh dewy air still wafted through the open window overhead, carrying the fragrance of the desert and chirps of nearby quail. The sharp aroma of coffee gradually filtered through the house, and the muted conversation from the kitchen could have been her mom and sisters from long ago. When the savory aroma of potatoes, sausage and eggs reached her, Rachael reluctantly climbed out of bed and made her way to the kitchen, where ‘Lyss sat at the table over a cup of coffee while Yvette busied herself at the stove. Her mom resolutely rejected Rachael’s offer to help, treating her as a guest rather than family. Pouring a mug of coffee, she joined ’Lyss at the table.

Roughly two hours of drive time to Las Vegas, then another hour negotiation city traffic put them at the convention center in the midst of registration. More than a convention center, it was a European style community surrounding a small manmade lake. Central to the community were meeting rooms, lounges, restaurants, and casinos. A small indoor mall contained various shops and a tiny grocery store. With three gyms and two swimming pools, the village was essentially self-contained, as was the intent.

“You can hang out, explore, have fun, whatever you want,” ’Lyss said as they unpacked. The third floor room was beautiful and had a small balcony offering a great view of the manmade lake ringed with a white sand beach.

“I need to register and then there’s the opening session this afternoon, but I should be back by four o’clock. I was planning on attending the meet-and-greet this evening, if you want to go.”

“Absolutely.”

“You haven’t heard the little boy again, have you?” ’Lyss cautiously asked.

“No, not a sound.”

“Maybe it’s over? Maybe it won’t happen, then?”

Rachael shook her head. “Not a chance. I still feel it out there. But forget about it, I’m here to have fun.”

Rachael walked ’Lyss to the convention center then wandered through the shops and community to familiarize herself with her surroundings. Returning to the room, she slipped into her swimsuit and threw on a coverup before hitting the gym and then doing a half-mile of laps in the larger of the two pools.

Relaxed, she took a short nap and was lounging on the room’s tiny balcony with a novel when ’Lyss returned.

“Rache?” She called.

“Out here.”

“Hey lady, how was your afternoon? Any more about your premonitions?”

“Yes, it was wonderful, and no, not a single supernatural occurrence. How was yours?”

“Great. I have your visitor pass for tonight’s social which starts in a couple of hours. It’s business casual. Also, we won’t need to worry about dinner since there’s promised to be tables of decadent hors d’oeuvrs and desserts. I also got two discount tickets for tomorrow night’s show, which is playing just off the Strip. They say it received rave reviews back east.”

“Lady, you are spoiling me.”

“You and me both.”

Rachael’s apprehension faded as she meandered through the crowd of lawyers, enjoying a variety of foods, many of which she hadn’t seen since her days of modeling. Food she hadn’t been allowed to eat. Along with three types of pepper bruschetta and four versions of scallops, Rachael was introduced to baked oysters, Asian duck salad wonton cups, shrimp shooters with mango sauce, and a dozen or more appetizers she couldn’t identify. Wines, liquors and beers were readily available and tables of desserts including chocolate truffles topped with edible gold leaf, mint chocolate eclairs, miniature bundt cakes drizzled with European chocolate, which she considered far superior to American chocolate, white chocolate spheres, and the list went on.

Still, her quest for the perfect Bloody Mary continued. Disappointed by what were otherwise excellent drinks, Rachael left her half-finished glass on the bar and wandered, attuned to passing conversations.

Drawn into a discussion among lawyers specializing in engineering, Rachael was able to talk intelligently on the subject and from then on, the evening flew by.

Rising quietly the following morning with the little boy’s cry on her mind, Rachael pulled on her swimsuit and coverup, and went for an early morning swim. She returned to find Alyssa still sleeping, so she dressed and made her way across the bridge spanning the small lake to the convention center. The aroma of breakfast keened her hunger but she resisted, opting for a large coffee. A continental breakfast of fruit, fresh baked pastries, mini quiches, and bowls of protein bars were set for attendees, however Rachael decided she could wait until Alyssa joined her.

With Wednesday being the first full day of conferencing, ‘Lyss spent it attending sessions, lectures and debates. Thursday, however, promised to be relatively open since the only session ’Lyss planned on attending was a birds-of-a-feather roundtable. Rachael invited her to go sunbathing, insisting that she needed at least half-a-day of vacay.

“Besides,” Rachael coaxed with a smile, “there’s a few hot guys strutting their stuff around.”

“What will Mark say when he finds out you spent the week scoping out other men?”

“He’ll never know. I’m the one with ESP, remember? Besides, who says men are the only ones that can look?”

“Lady,” Alyssa chastised, “are you telling me that it only took one day to corrupt you? Maybe I should send you back on a bus before you get us both in trouble.”

“It’s not like I’m watching them in a sexual sense of the word. It’s more like... appreciating their physique, the way I appreciate a well-designed building.”

’Lyss gave her a sidewise look and said, “Evaluating their structure, no doubt.”

“So what do you say?”

“Fine, but I want you wearing sunglasses. I don’t want to be embarrassed, or worse, give someone the wrong idea.”

“I’d never embarrass you.”

“Right. Where have I heard that before?”

Following breakfast, Rachael spent the day being a good girl, in her opinion anyway. She spoke with Mark twice, shopped for trinkets, relaxed with a novel, then joined Alyssa for lunch. Her afternoon was spent working out, swimming, and taking a long, luxurious nap. Thoroughly refreshed, she met Alyssa and three colleagues for dinner before returning to their room to shower and change into formal attire, then climb onto one of two tour busses commissioned to take the group to the acclaimed play.

Their destination was not far off the Strip, a collection of four buildings interconnected by glass breezeways. The main entrance consisted of a lobby, 24-7 fashion shops, a runway for shows, and piano bar. They took the left breezeway to the theater. The middle led to a night club, and the right to a casino.

Rachael and ’Lyss entered a darkened, intimate chamber along with roughly one hundred other conference attendees, all in suits and evening gowns. Deep purple drapery hung from the walls and the four sections of seating looked down upon a theater in the round. By the time the show began, the theater was at its 160-person capacity.

The play had been given rave reviews and was three weeks into a four-month Las Vegas venue. Waiting for it to begin, Rachael scanned the program and wondered why, if it was such an acclaimed production, they weren’t playing in one of the large auditoriums on the Strip. The answer came once it began, and Rachael quickly lost all interest in the production. The first half was tortuously slow and more than once, she resisted the urge to walk out. Neither was ’Lyss enthralled, as her eyes roved about the audience and she reread the program time and time again.

“What do you think?” Rachael said as they exited the chamber for a fifteen minute intermission.

“Let’s just say it’s not my cup of tea.”

“I don’t know if it’s a play, a concert, or a light show, but whatever it is, it makes absolutely no sense to me. I can’t go back in there for Act Two.”

“That makes two of us. We could call a taxi, but I don’t think we want to fork out sixty or seventy dollars when we have a free bus ride. Do you want to do a little gambling?”

“No. I’m too antsy to sit in front of a slot machine. Besides, they’re not fun anymore, not since they began spitting out tickets instead of change. It just doesn’t have the same allure.”

“There’s always Blackjack, or Craps.”

“Craps is Mark’s game. I wouldn’t mind playing Blackjack, but just try to find a table for a buck a hand. I mean, I almost always win with a single deck but I’m still not forking out ten or twenty bucks a hand. And those are the cheap tables. Sorry to be such a stick-in-the-mud, but I don’t feel like myself tonight.”

“You’re not sick are you?” ’Lyss said with concern showing in her eyes.

“No, it’s not that. I’m on edge, jittery.”

“Let’s do some window shopping.”

“Sorry for being such a pain in the ass,” Rachael said, her eyes wandering. “I’m probably not much fun.”

Taking her arm, ’Lyss said, “lady, don’t even think about it. Now, if you insisted on watching the second half of the play, then I would say you were a pain in the ass.”

Returning to the main entrance, they had a chance to look more closely at the small indoor mall of high fashion shops. The runway was closed until Mother’s Day, but still displayed posters from last Valentine’s Day lingerie show. Across the lobby-slash-sitting area set the cocktail bar that, despite it’s neon lighting, was dark and crowded. A rumble of conversation provided background for a piano band set up on a small stage playing ballads sung by an older woman. While she couldn’t be called a good singer, her untrained voice gave the songs a rustic, folksy blues timbre.

Waitresses in revealing outfits delivered trays of drinks and finger foods while two bartenders serviced the bar and kept the drinks coming. In the back corner, three tables had been pulled together where a group of raucous, inebriated college students sat laughing and shouting to one another.

“Should we surprise our men with new teddies?” Alyssa said, pausing before several scantily clad mannequins.

“That would be a waste of money. Mine wouldn’t stay on long enough for Mark to appreciate it.”

Laughing, ’Lyss pointed to a statuesque Adonis with a large bulge between his legs. “Then how about surprising them with an easy access thong?”

“That’s an idea. I can see Mark hanging out of both sides,” Rachael said with a chuckle.

“That’s the point, but it’d be embarrassing if the kids found it. Or worse, their friends. Can you imagine finding your parents’ sex paraphernalia?”

“That’s not a pretty sight.”

Turning around, they headed back towards the cocktail bar when Rachael lurched to a halt and grabbed Alyssa’s arm.

“There!”

“What, what, where?”

“That’s it! See?” Rachael said, pointing to the lounge.

“Honey, I’m looking but I’m not seeing.”

“That’s the Bloody Mary I’ve been craving all week! See? The waitress there?”

“What in the world has gotten into you?”

“Come on,” Rachael said, leading her to the lounge.

“Rache..? What is up with you?”

“I’ve been craving that exact Bloody Mary since Monday. You don’t have to join me but there’s nothing else to do until the show lets out.”

“Okay then, just one drink. Okay?”

“That’s all I want, just one. There, at the bar. Two seats together.”

Of the only two contiguous empty seats, a young man on the verge of passing out sat next to one. Unkempt fuzz coated his chin and he had the unappealingly gauntness of an addict. He sat quietly, morosely regarding his shot of tequila. Next to the other open seat sat a young woman wearing dramatic makeup, grossed in intimate conversation with another young woman, both of whom wore semi-transparent, form fitting dresses.

“Fine,” Alyssa said, “but you’re sitting next to the drunk.”

Perching themselves on the bar stools, Rachael gave a passing smile to the man who regarded her with unseeing eyes.

“What’ll it be?” The head bartender asked.

“Rum and Coke,” Alyssa said pleasantly.

“Bloody Mary. The kind I saw your waitress serving: shrimp, olives, celery, asparagus, the works.”

“Coming up,” he said with a nod.

“It’s a nice place,” Rachael commented, looking around.

“Shithole place,” the drunk grumbled, his eyes never leaving the drink. “Vega’s shithole place. Tex’s shithole place. Th’all shithole places.”

He tossed down the drink he held and slurred another order.

“Buddy, you’ve had too much,” the bartender said and took the empty glass.

A guttural hiss escaped his clenched teeth.

“Job iserve me drinks! Not... tell... me... how... MUCH... I... can... drink!”

“Keep that up, pal, and I’m calling security.”

“Gimme bottle’n I’ll go.”

Fumbling through his pocket, the man pulled out a thick wad of fifties and hundreds and slapped it on the counter. By Rachael’s estimation, it amounted to thousands.

“No trouble, ’k?” He said, weaving in his seat. “Be good. Sit here f’while. Take it all, do you more good’n me.”

“Get out of here and take your money with you.”

“I be good.”

The bartender gave Rachael a questioning look. She shrugged it off.

“Okay,” he mouthed and turned back to making their drinks.

Although not entirely unconscious, the man sat staring blankly at the counter, mindless of his money wad. Tears seeped from his eyes and drool from his lips. Rachael kept a watchful eye on both him and his money, but other than that, she and ’Lyss enjoyed a pleasant time.

“We should be going,” ’Lyss said, finishing her second Rum and Coke. Rachael was still working on her second Bloody Mary.

“I could sit here all night drinking these things,” she answered, flipping her hair to one side.

“The bus will be here shortly.”

The drunk came back to life and vociferously demanded a bottle of Schnapps.

“Buddy, you’re not getting another drink,” the head bartender said. Peeling off a hundred and fifty bucks, he slammed the remainder on the counter. “That’s about even. Now get out or I’ll call the cops.”

“Cops!” The drunk slurred and caught himself from falling over. “Cops’r useless!”

With quickness that belied his condition, he snatched the bartender’s shirt and jerked him close.

“Y’wanna know ’bout cops?” He said, spittle flying. “Worth’ss all acause amoney! This money!”

With a sweep of his hand, he sent the cash flying across the counter, with most of it landing behind the bar.

“That does it!” Wrenching away, the bartender hit the speed dial on his cell phone.

“Go’head won’t be ’live anyway.”

“’Lyss,” Rachael said. “I’ll give you my card. If you’ll pay the tab, I’ll take him out.”

“Whatever for? Let the police handle it.”

“I’ll just get him to the lobby before he hurts himself. Did you hear what he said about not being alive?”

“Rache, stay out of it. Let the cops handle it.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. But I’ll pay for it. Get him out of here and that’s all, okay? Nothing more. Don’t get involved.”

“Right. Nothing more.”

Hooking her arm under his, Rachael pulled him off the stool and labored through the lounge bearing his weight.

“Can’t take it no more. Can’t do it no more. Not aft’ this.”

“Can’t do what?” Rachael said as a few catcalls and jeers from the college crowd followed them out.

“Can’t do no more. No more.” Looking at Rachael with pleading eyes and anguish carved into his face. “It wasn’t enough. Lost them ‘causa cops an’ I can’t do it again. No more.”

Rachael bore his weight to a nearby divan, thankful he wasn’t a big man. Dropping him onto the cushions, he sprawled, snoring and gurgling on phlegm. Rachael turned back to the lounge where ’Lyss was still inside settling their tab. A man leaving the lounge, blue-collar type from the looks of it, gave her a hard look. Their eyes met for the briefest moment before he quickly turned away.

Rachael wished ’Lyss would hurry. The show was ending and the audience was now filtering out, conversing about the show and impact it was bound to have. Still, ’Lyss hadn’t come out and Rachael was becoming anxious. Two officers arrived to collect the man, took a brief statement and contact information, then hauled him off to the drunk tank.

Worried about missing the bus, Rachael breathed a sigh of relief when ’Lyss finally joined her.

“The bus is loading, we need to go,” Rachael said. “What took so long?”

“I couldn’t get anybody’s attention. Is he gone?”

“Yeah, cops hauled him off.”

“Lady, you’re one very interesting date. I’m going to have to bring you more often.”

“Just call me Miss Excitement.”

Next: Part 2 - Down the Rabbit Hole