Page 3 of For the Boys
Parker and Cole nodded in agreement before each of them took off in a different direction.
Brent made his way to the table the bartender had indicated.
“Hi,” he said to the three people—two guys and a girl—seated there. “Were you guys delivered a round of shots like twenty minutes ago?”
“No,” one of the guys said, eyes wide. “Well, I mean, yeah, but no.” The guy smacked himself on the forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m not making sense. It’s not every day Brent Jean walks up to your table asking about shots.”
Brent nodded. “I get it,” he said. “But there was a guy that drugged a round a bit ago, and the bartender told me he delivered them here.”
“We didn’t take them,” the girl, who had short black hair, said. “Our friends were here celebrating a birthday, and they ordered them.”
“What happened to your friends?” Brent asked.
“I’m not sure,” the girl admitted. “They left to dance, but I haven’t seen them out there in a while. Honestly, we’re not, like, close. I know one of them from law school. We’ve had a few classes together.” She chewed on her lip. “God, I hope they’re okay.”
“I’ll track them down,” Brent said. “Don’t worry.”
“Do you need our help?” the other guy asked.
“Yeah, could you check around upstairs and outside?”
“Will do.”
Brent walked slowly around the perimeter of the dance floor, searching for anyone who looked drugged. After a few laps and nothing to show for them, he met up with Cole and Parker near the hallway that led to the bathrooms.
“Any luck?” he asked them.
They shook their heads, and Brent reached up, crushing the brim of his hat between his hands in frustration.
He was about to set off on another lap when the black-haired girl from the table came stumbling out of the women’s room.
“I found them,” she said. “They’re in the bathroom. All three of them are really sick, and I couldn’t leave them until just now.”
“Can you show us?”
The girl nodded, turning on her heel, and Brent, Cole, and Parker followed.
The four of them hustled into the women’s bathroom, Parker standing guard at the door while Brent, Cole, and the girl, who was swaying slightly on her feet, assessed the situation. When she’d been seated he hadn’t noticed how drunk she was. He put a hand out to steady her and then moved toward one of the stalls.
All the blood drained from Brent’s face when he pushed open the door and there she was: his little blonde obsession. She was slumped over the toilet seat, and from the looks of it, she had emptied the contents of her entire stomach into it.
“Okay,” Brent said, backing out of the stall and turning to the black-haired girl. “You can go if you want. My friends and I have it under control.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, appearing skeptical. “I mean, I don’t even know you. Only that you play football or something.”
Cole choked on a laugh. “Hockey,” Brent gently corrected her. “Your guy friend knows who I am. Seems like if you find out anything happens to these girls, a tip to a gossip site or even a call to the police would sufficiently fuck up my life. Don’t you agree?”
“Well sure, when you put it that way.”
“So you can trust me when I tell you that my teammates and I are going to make sure nothing happens to these girls. I promise we’ll get them home safe.”
After studying him for several long moments, she nodded. “Okay, I believe you. I’m going to go now.” She turned and made her way past Parker and into the hallway.
“Parker, call a car. A big one. Preferably someone we know,” Brent said, turning to check the other two stalls. One was empty, but he found another blonde girl and a tall brunette in the wheelchair-accessible one. The blonde had passed out. Her arms and head were on the toilet seat, her hair nearly touching the sullied water. The brunette was on the floor next to her, shoes gone, blinking up at him.
“I don’t feel so good,” she slurred.
Cole knelt beside her. “Shh,” he said. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
