"Please, Danny, don't!"
I tried not to cry. I tried really hard. But when the other line of the phone went dead, I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. My chest felt like it was in a vise, each static buzz in my ear turning the wench tighter.
I needed air.
The rain had let up to a drizzle by the time I pushed back through the door of the small convenient store and stepped out onto the wet sidewalk again. Had it only been ten minutes since I'd rushed in here, out of the downpour to run my errand? Ten minutes since I'd gone from being engaged to single again?
I managed a ragged but deep breath and started walking. I wasn't sure where I was going, but something inside of me said that walking would calm me down. I might be able to think more clearly, but I knew it wouldn't make everything right again.
Walking wouldn't solve the problem of my wedding dress waiting for my first fitting next week. Or the box of invitations sitting on my coffee table, still waiting to be opened. Or the non-refundable down payment on the villa we had rented in Tuscany for our honeymoon.
The tears welled up once more, and I wasn't sure if they were wetting my cheeks or if it was the rain...which had decided to come down harder. I stumbled along, passing light posts that reflected dull yellow in the puddles beneath them. There was no one else in sight, just empty cars parked sporadically along the pothole-riddled street.
I laughed at that thought. Everyone else was home where they belonged. Not out running around in the rain to buy cigarettes, only to get dumped by a phone call.
I have no idea how long I had wandered aimlessly, but by the time I saw the blue neon sign, the rain had soaked through my auburn tresses, chilling my scalp. The light was bright against the otherwise dark sky. It was also the only one lit on either side of the street at this time of night.
I felt it beckoning me, drawing me closer with its warm glow, as if it could ease some of the pain threatening to break my heart in two. Or maybe it was what the sign represented, and what was inside that would kill the feeling of a knife twisting in my side.
I read the words "Maggie's Lounge" surrounding a miniature martini glass, and then opened the door to view a dimly lit hall. Inside, I shook the rain off my jacket and wrung out my hair to look somewhat presentable. I glanced at my surroundings.
There were two doors, one straight ahead and one to the left. I tried the knob in front of me, but it was locked. Door number two opened to a set of descending stairs. The blue rope lights along the ceiling and floor led to another closed door. The muffled sounds of a heavy base told me I'd found the lounge.
"Okay, Alice, time to go down the rabbit hole."
I took another deep breath, and then started down, gripping the railing and watching where I put my feet.
Before I reached the bottom step, the door opened. The beat of the music changed to something slower but just as heavy, and I could hear a cacophony of voices. There were colorful, flashing lights in the distance, but the forefront of the room was lit with an array of silver pendant lights that the former lights bounced off of. Underneath the pendant lights were tall tables and chairs, most of which were occupied.
A woman in a black pantsuit stood waiting at the door. I realized that I had frozen on the second from the last stair. Apparently she was waiting for me. I forced a smile and finished my descent.
"Welcome to Maggie's Lounge." The woman's voice was deep, which matched the black of her hair and the green of her eyes. The wall sconce behind her produced a halo of light around her head as she turned to let me pass. She ran her eyes down my body, a smile flitting across her lips. And then she was enveloped in shadows again as she closed the door. "It must still be raining."
"Yeah." I cringed, knowing my hair looked like a mop, and my jeans and sweater were damp as well. My raincoat hadn't been much help against the weather. Then again, I hadn't thought to secure my coat when I'd rushed out of the convenient store. I had even forgotten to buy my cigarettes. "I'm sorry, I must be dripping water everywhere."
"Nonsense. Come on in and dry off."
"Thank you." I looked around, wondering what to do next. When she took my arm and directed me to the bar, I just followed.
"What's your poison?"
I stared at her a second, entranced by the full red lips smiling back at me. I shook my head. "I'm sorry. What?"
"What would you like to drink?"
"Oh, um...Southern Comfort and Coke? Thank you." I stared at the bartender while the woman leaned across the bar to talk to him.
He was a tall man with broad shoulders and well-developed biceps, emphasized by the black T-shirt stretched across his upper body. Definitely in the handsome category, although a little rough-looking for my tastes. I almost smacked myself. What was wrong with me, sizing up men already?
I switched the track on my train of thought and wondered if he could also be the bouncer. Especially when I looked around and realized all of the patrons were women. Whether they were standing at the bar, sitting at the tables, or dancing to the trance-inducing music, every single person in viewing distance was female.
I restrained myself from laughing out loud when reality hit me. I definitely had left my brain somewhere back on 72nd Street. I touched my host on the arm and asked her where the restroom was when she turned back to me.
"Over there, second door on your right."
My gaze followed her pointing finger, and I could see a neon "Exit" sign on the other side of the bar. "Thank you, I'll be right back."
I kept my head down even though I could feel the stares as I passed through the crowd. They didn't seem offensive, but still, I refused to look at the women directly. I was thankful to find the other stalls empty and locked myself in the fourth and final one.
I sat fully clothed on the toilet seat. And cried.
My chest hurt. I knew if I didn't stop crying soon, I would get a migraine, but I didn't care. Every memory I had shared with Danny flashed behind my closed eyes like a silent movie. Some of them made me cry harder. A couple made me pound my fist against the metal wall in frustration. I just didn't understand why he had done it.
It was several minutes before I heard the door squeak open, the noise from the bar increasing exponentially before being cut off again. The staccato sound of heels walking on the tiled floor made me hold my breath. They passed the first three stalls and stopped in front of mine.
For almost a minute, all I could hear was the beating of my own heart and the muffled music seeping under the closed bathroom door. When I could hold my breath no longer, I let it out in a ragged wheeze. And hiccupped.
"Kat?" a female voice called from the other side of my stall. "Are you okay?"
My heart stopped. Someone had recognized me! I tried to wipe up my tears with toilet paper, stood, flushed, and then pasted a smile on my face before turning the lock.
"Yes, I'm fine," I said as I opened the door, only to stop with it half open when I saw who was standing there.
Time had only made Jenna Swallow more becoming. She had not been popular in high school, even though she looked like a model. Maybe it was because everyone had assumed she slept around because of her name, therefore teasing her endlessly. I covered my laugh with another hiccup as I now knew the answer to the single, whispered question all those years ago: Did Jenna swallow?
I blinked, but she was still standing there, framed in blue metal with a mirror behind her, reflecting the two of us. Standing between me and freedom. Standing with a smirk on her face.
I blinked again.
