Page 280 of Vicious Saint
“No!” I shake my head. “But I do need to pee!”
Carlo squints at me, unable to crack the code even though I’m two hip sways away from doing the Orange Justice.
“Bagno, Carlo!”
Jesus, you’d think after a year in America the guy would pick up on Fortnite dances.
He bobs his head in an “ah” motion, then begins guiding me through the masses like I’m a celebrity walking through a swarm of paparazzi. Who would clearly suck at their jobs because not one of them is looking at me.
Not one set of eyes.
Until…
An odd sense of dread takes over as we approach the hall to the bathrooms, the eerie feeling of being watched creeping up on me like a chill.
Still being ushered by Carlo, I shade my eyes from the strobe lights and glance over to where my senses are telling me to. When I do, I find a guy in the distance, not much younger than Carlo weaving carefully through the crowd with eyes gripping me.
Can’t tell exactly what his features are, or what he’s wearing, but I can definitely tell he looks like questionable news.
“Signorina!” Carlo shouts, nudging me forward, which is when I realize I slowed down.
“Sorry!” I chuckle nervously, then when I look back to find the mystery man…he’s gone.
Obviously, the smart thing to do is tell Carlo about the creeper,notSaint, but the second I’m about to all hell breaks loose in the form of a brawl.
Bodies slamming, fists flying, and in seconds the entire space around us turns into the techno version of a mosh pit.
Some guy’s elbow manages to hit me square on the lips right before Carlo throws his body in front of me like a shield against the wall. My lips sting, especially since they’re still recovering from being torn up earlier. I don’t get much time to focus on the pain, because as the fight draws closer, so does the wave of anxious people trying to escape.
Carlo’s got his gun in the air, screaming for me to keep my head down as we scrape the wall to the hall of the bathroom. But the second we reach it, he gets pulled from behind, leaving me stumbling backwards and him into the frenzied crowd.
“Carlo!” I screech, barely able to keep up with the stampede toward the emergency exit ahead, but he’s nowhere to be found.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
My mind is reeling, but I still manage to think quickly when approaching the ladies bathroom.
I time my steps perfectly, and the second I reach the door, I shoulder check it open, once again stumbling until I hit a sink.
In spite of the chaos taking place outside the door, the large bathroom sounds empty, and I use the quiet to my advantage as I gather myself in the mirror.
My ears ring, breaths are unsteady, and heart gallops like a horse in my chest as I take in the blood dripping out of my mouth.
Twisting on the water, I quickly clean my hands then the blood, wincing when the wet paper towel presses against it.
“Son of a freaking bitch ass on wheels.” I continue dabbing the area, until finally all that’s left is a nasty swollen lip. Tossing thedirty paper towel in the trash, I grip the edge of the vanity, going over emergency priorities with a hang of my head.
First things first:
Clean lips. Check.
Breathe. Check.
Limbs. Check.
Cell phone…
My eyes widen, then I slap a hand on the back pocket of my jeans, cursing everyone plus their mothers when I find it iPhone free.
