Page 135 of Not A Whisper

“Of course, Mr. Gipson. Right away.”

I glare at Garry as the server comes over to my other side and gently takes my elbow.

“It’sMrs. Wilson-Gipson.” I mean it to come out firmly, but my voice is barely a whisper as the hallway spins faster than the ballroom had and I find it harder to lift my tongue.

“Hm… It is, isn’t it?” A hard smile curves one side of his mouth. Leaning close, he whispers into my ear. “I can’t wait until I can say itwas.”

Confusion only causes my dizziness to worsen. As Garry bows his head and turns to leave, pain in my chest flares to life. My knees knock as my stomach lurches. I double over, groaning. A trickle of sweat drips down my forehead and I gasp.

“Come on, Mrs. Wilson-Gipson,” the server urges, dragging me down a side hallway, away from the ballroom. “There’s a private room right back here.”

Oh thank god. Trying to take shallow breaths to keep from vomiting while keeping my composure is a chore. The server urges me out of the line of sight of the public. I follow,stumbling over my feet as I do. The young man puts an arm around my waist as we take another turn. At first I stiffen, unprepared and uncomfortable with the physical contact. My apprehension and discomfort take a back seat when the feeling in my feet begins to fade and the hallway tilts violently to one side.

“Woah, there,” the server mutters.

“I think I might be sick,” I whisper as my eyelids grow heavy.

“Pleasedon’t,” he grunts.

For some reason, his response makes me chuckle. The amusement fades as my stomach lurches and I double over as we head down a narrow hallway. I dry heave, gasping heavily.

“Fuck. C’mon, ma’am.”

The unprofessionalism of the server throws me for a loop. I understand having a guest get sick isn’t ideal, but this? I blink rapidly, trying to focus on my surroundings. The hallway we’re walking down is a dead end. There are two closed doors. One looks like a closet or utility door. As we pass it, a heavy thump comes from the other side. I pause at the sound of someone cursing violently. That voice sounds awfully familiar.

I glance over at the door, but the server drags me away, quickening his pace while simultaneously gathering more of my weight. I shake my head as I stare at the door we’re approaching. It’s an exit door, with the word lit up in green neon just above it. I shake my head and attempt to get my bearings enough to plant my feet.

“No!” My protest is inaudible. My tongue feels thick as it sticks to the roof of my mouth.

“Cut it out and just pass the fuck out already,” the young man snarls, yanking me by the waist toward the door. The movement almost gives him exactly what he’s asked. The hallway darkens until it’s nearly pitch black, and I gasp as my stomach threatens to turn inside out. As the darkness recedes,leaving the hallway simply blurry and spinning, I try to push away, but my attempts are feeble. My arms are simply too heavy and keeping myself upright is taking too much of my energy.

Just as we get to the exit, there’s a loud bang behind us.

“Goddamn it,” a voice snarls weakly. “Lock me in a fucking closet… I’ll kill ‘em.”

My heart leaps. Trip! I attempt to jerk away from the man luring me out of the building, but I don’t get anywhere. The cold air hits me in the face as he opens the door and I cringe. Just on the other side of the door is the back alley of the hotel. Idling hard is an old, dark SUV that’s waiting for us, its back hatch open.

Oh my god. No, no, no! I’m about to bekidnapped. My heart hammers in my chest, making the spinning in my head worse. I groan hard but again I try to fight. Weakly, my hands shove against my kidnapper. He growls something under his breath and shoves me out the door into the night.

As the door behind us swings shut, I call out with all my might, “TRIP!”

I don’t know if he hears me before the door shuts. It’s colder now than it was when we first arrived. A thin layer of snow covers the sidewalk and street. A few flurries drift from the sky, though the clouds are thinning overhead. I shouldn’t be out here. I need to go back in. Find the guys… get out of here… Dread and nausea weaken me further. As the world sinks slowly back into darkness, I’m pushed into the back of the SUV. The trunk slams shut a second later.

“Hey, Woody, what the hell? I thought we were meeting a block over!” a voice calls from close by.

I fight the darkness trying to consume me. Deep breathing doesn’t seem to help much, but it does keep the nausea at bayfor a little longer. I reach up weakly and slap at the inner of the vehicle, hoping to cause a commotion.

“I texted you about a change of plans! Where the fuck have you been? I’ve had to take care of all this shit by myself,” the server who grabbed me snaps back.

There’s a soft puffing of air as whoever his accomplice is jogs over. “Sorry, my daughter’s mother was being difficult about pick-up time and?—”

“I don’t give a fuck about your business! Just hurry up and get in.”

I can hear him moving around the car. My strikes against the inner wall grow weaker but I push through even as my limbs begin to feel like lead weights. I can’t just be swept away without a fight.

Trip, where’s Trip?

My fingers brush against the latch. Fumbling with it, I manage to pop the trunk. The lid opens ridiculously slowly, and I don’t have it in me to shove it open faster.

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