Page 80 of Come Back To Me

“A girl came in, she wasn’t a customer, as far as I know. One of my servers said they saw her walk in from outside. She…uh…she vandalized a wall in the bar.”

“What?” I set the glass of vodka on my chest. My head is aching. A hangover.

“I wasn’t there,” he said quickly. “She had a can of spray paint…”

God.“Okay…” I wish he’d just spit it out. I look around for my bottle of Tylenol. The room is trashed. I knock things off the narrow table and find it underneath a pile of clothes.

“She spray-painted the wall in the bar. Under the sign…”

“What does it say?” I rip off the lid with my teeth and pour the last three pills in my mouth. Greg hesitates. I can hear him moving things around and I wish he’d just spit it the fuck out so I can go back to sleep. I lie down on the bed, pulling a pillow over my face.

“I’m back. Find me…”

I sit up, the pillow rolling onto the floor.

“What?”

“I’m back. Find me,” he repeats.

I’m already up, looking for my jeans in the pile of clothes on the floor.

“Don’t touch it. I’m on my way.”

When I arrive it’s past midnight and most of the staff has left for the night.

“We need to stay open till two,” I tell Greg as I walk in. “We’re not fucking Cinderella.”

I walk through the main dining room and toward the bar with him trailing behind me. The first thing I see is the can of spray paint, which is sitting on the bar top where I presume she left it. I pick it up to read the label: Pink Camo. Then I look at the wall.

She doesn’t have a career in graffiti art—that’s for sure. The words are slanted like she did it in a hurry.I’m backis larger than theFind me.

“She color coordinated,” I say.

Greg rushes forward. “What? I wanted to call you first. Before the police.”

“No need to call the police,” I say, not taking my eyes from the wall.

“We have security cameras,” he says. “We can…”

“Show me,” I interrupt him.

He leads me through the kitchen and to a small office in the rear of the building. I sit in the only chair and swivel back and forth as he fidgets with the computer. She was here.Here.In this building.

“There,” he says, finally.

I stare at the image on the computer screen; it’s grainy, devoid of color. I watch with my eyes narrowed as a woman walks across the restaurant, shaking a can of spray paint as she goes. Her gait is sure…determined, but even so, I can see the sexy sashay of her hips. She doesn’t hesitate before she tosses the cap onto the floor and vandalizes my bar. I laugh, and Greg looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Sir—” he says.

“Don’t call me that. Did anyone see where she went after she left?”

“No. We were…in shock. She had to be on drugs or something.”

I laugh again.

“Okay,” I say, standing up. “Okay.”

“Okay what, Si—David?”

---