Page 33 of Latte Girl
Jordan is hovering over Trisha at one of the couches. She doesn’t look good. I hurry overtothem.
“Trisha, are you okay?” I ask, ignoring Jordan and bending downtowardsher.
“So dizzy,” shemoans.
“I saw her wander off the dance floor. I don’t think any of your friends noticed,” Jordanexplains.
I whip around to face him. “I can take over now. Youshouldgo.”
He seems to shrink under my anger, but stays where he is. “I’ll help. I can get her somewater.”
“Just go. I wouldn’t want you to keep yourfriendwaiting.”
He blinks, confused, and then realizes who I’m referencing. “Hailey, that wasn’t anything. She’s just some secretary. Idon’t—”
“Just some secretary?” I repeat, spitting the words out like poison. “Do you even hearyourself?”
Before he can reply, Brittney and one of Steve’s friendsapproach.
“Is she okay?” demands Brittney, looking to where Trisha is slumped over thetable.
“She needs to go home,” I answer, and then turn to Jordan. “We’refinenow.”
His eyes dart between all of us for a moment, coming to rest on mine. I stare him down until he turns and walks away, my eyes boring holes into the back of his shirt until he disappears into thecrowd.
“Okay,” I sigh, focusing back on Trisha. “Let’s go. I just have to— Oh shit. Steve still has my coatcheckslip.”
“We’ll take her outside and wait for you,” Brittney offers, as she and the guy she has with her pull Trisha toherfeet.
I walk back over to the dance floor and step onto the edge of the platform. I spot Steve dancing with the rest of his friends, although ‘dancing’ might be a stretch. They’re all jumping straight up and down, banging their fists tothebeat.
I thread my way through the gyrating masses and tap him on theshoulder.
“Hailey!” he shouts with a wide grin. He’s way drunker than I thought. “Where’dyougo?”
I don’t waste time trying to make myself heard. I just grab his arm and drag him out of thecrowd.
“Do you have my coat check thing?” I demand once we get far enough that it’s possibletotalk.
“Why? You leaving? We were just getting started,Hailey.”
He reaches for my hand and tries to pull me back to thefloor.
“Steve!” I snap, keeping my feet planted firmly on the ground. “I need my coat. Trisha is sick and we havetogo.”
“Okay, okay,” he mutters, ruffling my hair. “Let’sgo,then.”
All I really wanted was the slip, but I follow Steve to the coat check and take my jacket from him once it’s handed back, ignoring his attempt to help meintoit.
Outside the bar, we find Trisha sitting on the sidewalk with her back against the wall of the building. Her two guardians are standing beside her. Brittney pulls me aside as weapproach.
“I’m going back to Zack’s place”—she nods her head to indicate Steve’s friend— “but Trisha needs someone to help her home. Do you mind? I don’t know if you have other plans.” She glances towardsSteve.
“I don’t,” I answer firmly. “I’ll get her settled at her place and then head backtomine.”
We both take a minute to order cars on our phones. I crouch down next to Trisha and ask for her address, coaxing it out of her amidst some incoherent moaning aboutFireball.
Brittney’s car arrives first and she climbs into the back seat with Zack after asking me if I’m sure I’m okay. They pull away from the curb and I check on my ride’s progress. It’s still eightminutesaway.
