Page 255 of Unexpected Hero

Lettie’s in there. Where she goes, I’ll follow.

Once I pass the bouncer, pay the cover, and enter, I’m assaulted with violently loud music. Heavy colognes and perfumes add to my brewing nausea. The thumping of the loud bass settles in the back of my throat with each beat, making it feel like it’s squeezing my windpipe.

Fucking hate clubs. How can anyone have a single coherent thought in a place like this?

My gaze sweeps from side to side, searching the room for her, but it’s packed. This might take a while.

The first thing to catch my attention is a large group of women wearing inflatable penises on their heads. Let’s label that as reason fifteen why clubs are hell on earth.

On my first lap around the main room, I come up empty. No Lettie, Freya, or Vanessa.

During my second lap, I discover they’re having a singing contest tonight, which gives me hope that I’ll find her when it’s her turn. There’s no chance she’ll miss out on that.

But by the time I hit lap three with no results, I’m a bristling ball of agitation.

After working down a small hallway in the rear, I encounter a long line of women waiting to enter the restroom. Perhaps she’s in there with Freya and Vanessa. Might have taken a while to get through the line.

Teeming with restlessness and my toes tapping inside my shoes, I wait by the door for a while.My hands curl into fists, then stretch out repeatedly.

A woman around Lettie’s age smiles at me before looking at her phone. Maybe she’s seen her.

I approach her tentatively, shouting to overpower the music. “Excuse me. I’m looking for someone.” I give her a description of Lettie and how her hair looked from what I recall of the peek of her I got earlier.

She shakes her head. “Sorry. I haven’t seen her. We just got here.”

“Thanks anyway.”

Deciding to go with this approach, I flip through my phone to pull up a photo of her and show it to the women in the line.

No one recognizes her except one woman.“I saw her at the VIP bar with her friends about an hour ago. One of them was so drunk.”

“Was she the drunk one?” I ask.

“No. I don’t think so. It was the brunette. Long hair.”

Vanessa.

I toss my thumb over my shoulder toward the bathroom door. “Can you check inside to see if she’s in there?”

“Sure.”

A few moments later, she enters the bathroom. I lean against the wall, impatience brewing like a storm.

Standing around isn’t my style. I need to do something.

An idea strikes, so I fire off a text to Dante and Jesse from Bask, asking if they know what kind of car Vanessa drives. Then I realize how weird and random that kind of question is, so I add a note that she’s out with Lettie tonight, and I can’t find them.

That probably doesn’t help with the weirdness factor. But oh well. I’m beyond having the ability to be tactful or tone down my creepiness right now.

I’m slipping my phone into my back pocket when a woman exits the bathroom dressed in a tuxedo top and short black shorts. Odd.

“You the one looking for the pretty blond?” she asks me.

“Yes. Have you seen her?” I take out my phone and pull up Lettie’s picture again. “This is her. I can’t find her.”

“Yeah, she was in a while ago. Maybe an hour. She was upset. Are you the reason why?”

My lips press into a tight line, and I nod reluctantly. “That’s why I’m trying to find her. I need to apologize.”

---