The Pretty Ones

by Jamie Lee Fry

  Well, I wouldn’t make us late if you didn’t always hog the bathroom for hours. I don’t say this, of course.

  “Well. I didn’t want to wake you since you came in so late last night. I figured you would be pleased with the extra sleep, so I snuck downstairs for some breakfast. I didn’t want to be noisy.”

  “Ugh, let’s get you put together quickly. You showered last night, so it looks like it can be a dry shampoo kind of day. Asher is going to be here in thirty minutes.”

  “Thirty minutes, Quinn. I had no idea we were on a timeline. You didn’t tell me.”

  Why does she always do this to me? She never fills me in until the last possible second.

  “Well, I’m telling you now.” Quinn tosses me a little yellow sundress and a pair of white sandals. “Here, wear this,” and pushes me into the bathroom. I don’t argue and let Quinn do my hair and makeup.

  It doesn’t look like my friend is going to divulge any details of her whereabouts last night.

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Today can still be a good day.

  ***

  The familiar sun from earlier greets me as we wait for Asher outside our hotel. Quinn appears uneasy, a drastic change from moments earlier. I’ve known her for a long time and have never seen her like this.

  “There he is,” Quinn says as she points at a sleek and ostentatious silver Mercedes-Benz S-Class Coupé.

  I try to get a glimpse of him as I walk around the car, but his windows are tinted, making it hard to get a good look. I slip into the back seat, and then Quinn slides into the front. By the looks of his car, I’m guessing he has money—another thing my friend is drawn to.

  Quinn scowls at Asher as she gets situated with her seatbelt. I thought it would be a good time for her to introduce me, but she doesn’t. Asher is cold and doesn’t offer an introduction himself, either. I’m sure Quinn told him I was coming, but for all this dude knows, I’m a random stranger who hopped into his car.

  I clear my throat—a reminder for Quinn. She stays silent.

  I follow Quinn’s lead and stay quiet, too. She was so excited to introduce me yesterday but now I’m feeling like things changed. Maybe it was Asher on the phone last night and she snuck out to have it out with him. But why did he agree to come today if they’re fighting? Is she hoping to make up with him? I don’t feel comfortable being the third wheel if that’s the case.

  The scowl continues from Quinn, and Asher reciprocates. Quinn says something under her breath. I can’t hear what she says, although Asher’s own frown in return leads me to believe it wasn’t positive.

  “Great weather,” I say from the back seat, with no comment from either party in the front seat.

  Clearly, being given front-row tickets to an argument already in progress, although the view is not great.

  I take the silence as a good time to get a read on Asher. His brown hair has a touch of natural curl toward the tip. My side position from the back seat doesn’t allow the best view, but I can see his pronounced jaw and high cheekbones. His skin is flawless and freshly shaven. His eyes are piercing blue, just like Quinn’s, showcasing their natural twinkle. He is beautiful. Exactly Quinn’s type and exactly how she described him, except she left out the part about him being a cold jerk. I wonder if this relationship has run its course. If things were different, I imagine the two of them being a power couple who command a room wherever they go, everyone stopping, staring, and envying them. Although as of right now I doubt that will happen, and I kind of hope it doesn’t because Asher has not made a good impression with me.

  Luckily, it’s just a quick five-minute drive down to Waterfront Park where the festival is held. I’m half tempted to ask him to pull the car over and walk. But I don’t. I keep quiet because Quinn keeps quiet. I don’t need another reason for her to be annoyed with me.

  We approach a drop-off area and Asher pulls up to let us out. I’m relieved because I don’t think I could be with these two in a car much longer. At least he has the kindness to drop us off.

  “I will meet you back here in a few minutes. Wait for me, please. I’m going to park the car,” Asher says to Quinn.

  Quinn and I exit the car, but not before she tosses her champagne-pink cardigan sweater on the seat behind her.

  She pops her head back and I hear her tell Asher, “I’m sorry.”

  Asher responds, “Why did you lie?”

  Quinn doesn’t respond to Asher’s accusations, and I pretend I haven’t heard a thing.

  What is Quinn lying about? I knew something was going on.

  I attempt to break the awkwardness. “Chivalry isn’t dead,” I say.

  I don’t dare ask what’s going on because it is even more clear now that Quinn doesn’t care to fill me in.

  “I suppose not.” Quinn frowns and the light that twinkled in her eyes earlier seems to have disappeared. Was she like this all day yesterday and I didn’t notice?

  Crowds of people walk by us. Rows of tents and stages line the park along the river.

  “This must be a big event.” My attempt at small talk is lacking.

  Quinn checks her phone a few times and shrugs her shoulders.

  Wow, this is going to be a long day. At that moment I decide once we get inside the festival, I might go solo. I doubt these two will even know I’m gone.

  Quinn’s irritation continues as Asher rejoins us.

  “Parking was nuts. I said screw it when I saw a sign at a parking garage that said $30 event parking. I figured it’s early enough in the day that people would still try to get free or cheaper parking, and I scored a good spot right away. It was worth it,” Asher says.

  Is this Asher’s way of trying to sound cool and impress us that he’s willing to pay thirty bucks for parking? Dude, calm down.

  Once we finally get through the line and inside the festival, I say to Quinn, “Hey I’m going to check things out. Looks like you and Asher might need some alone time to figure things out. I’m not sure what’s going on here, but you guys don’t look happy.”

  I boldly walk away before Quinn has a chance to refute my claim. I’m sure that just pissed her off, but I’m so over it I don’t really care. I’m not going to let Quinn get in the way of my good day.

  ***

  My mood elevates the further I walk into the festival. Hundreds of people smiling and laughing and having a good time. I can’t help but smile and enjoy the contagious environment. Quinn and Asher can figure their shit out, and Quinn, with or without Asher, can join me later. I’m going to have some fun.

  I walk into a long white tent. One tap after another line the entire perimeter. I walk up to the first one. A Double IPA it says on the sign. I don’t know much about beer, and most of my beer drinking took place at college parties with a red Solo cup out of a keg of PBR or Bud. Not this fancy beer that’s described as having “hints of grapefruit and lemon.”

  A grizzly of a man shouts toward me, “Want to give our double IPA a try?”

  He looked like a typical guy from Portland. A step back in time to the nineties when grunge was popular.

  “Sure, why not?” I hand the guy my money and sip the beer and head toward a stage that’s gearing up for the first band.

  “Check one, check one.” A loud voice says into a microphone.

  I wait with a crowd of people for the music to begin. The mic check and sound check continue, and I gaze around. No Quinn and Asher in sight. Perfect. Today is going to be a good day.

  The band starts and they excite the crowd. Everyone takes a long stride toward the stage until we are all packed together like sardines. I’m in the middle of the crowd and ready to let loose and have a fun time. My beer is cold against my lips and its bitter taste has a bite that leaves my mouth watering and thirsty for more. I get why people love their beer so much in Oregon.

  I’m drinking. I’m singing. I’m enjoying myself. But slowly I feel my mood shift with each swig of beer I take. My cup is almost empty.

  As the band plays o
n, something cold and wet rushes down my back, all over Quinn’s yellow dress.

  I abruptly turn around to find a large beer-bellied man drunkenly singing, beer swishing out of his cup with each move he makes. I give him a dirty look and gulp down the last of my drink. I try to ignore him and move, but the crowd shifts with me and he’s still behind me. Another swish of cold beer makes its way down my backside.

  Last straw, buddy.

  I’m angry. Not just at this beer-bellied slob, but at Quinn, and myself. I’m angry Jenny is gone. I’m angry at Liam. I’m angry.

  So much for my good day.

  I twist my body and before I know it my fist is diving into the round beer belly behind me. I gasp in horror at my actions. I’ve never done anything like that before. Luckily, the man is too drunk to be phased by my little punch. I take off, pushing my way through the crowd before he can even realize what just happened to him.

  I’m back in the beer tent and stop to catch my breath. I’m scared by my actions but also exhilarated by them. That was the most freeing thing I’ve ever done. I smile.

  I order two more beers to avoid the line later. With my double fist of beer, I decide to find a grassy knoll to sit on by the river. I sip and think.

  The exhilaration is wearing off, and my confused sadness hits me again like a pile of bricks. One brick after another piling on top of me until I can’t breathe.

  I find myself going down the dark hole that I know I can’t pull back from.

  I feel like it was a mistake coming here. Quinn doesn’t want to talk about the last night we were together, and now she doesn’t want to talk about what happened with Asher or whoever she snuck out to see last night. I really can’t take this anymore. Maybe our friendship has run its course and it’s time for both of us to go our separate ways.

  I’m keeping secrets from Quinn, too.

  That’s the first time I’ve admitted that.

  I never told her about my aunt Jenny. Saying it would have made it real. No one knew me in college, and no one knew our story and the horrible circumstances around it. I had a fresh start in Iowa.

  Quinn was a much welcomed distraction, and every time I wanted to tell her about Jenny, I couldn’t get the words out. I tried but I could never actually get myself to say them.

  I kept Jenny’s memory tucked in my nightstand with all her pictures. If I didn’t speak about her, then maybe she could still be alive, living in my parents’ guest house like nothing happened. If I didn’t speak those words to another human being, then I could hide the dark reality and pretend it didn’t happen. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s how I deal with it.

  The nightmares were still there when I was in Iowa, but they were less frequent. It was so much easier to forget with Quinn and the extensive social schedule she kept us on.

  That’s why I thought I needed her again to distract me, to keep me busy. To keep me on track. But it’s all backfiring now. I feel I’m spinning out of control.

  I’m dizzy.

  I’m drunk.

  I’m ready to go back to the hotel.

  I want to find Quinn and leave.

  Now.

  CHAPTER 17

  Charlie

  August 2012

  I stumble along the riverwalk, trying to control my balance, but I’m swaying. The hot midday sun makes it worse; my skin is heating up. I need to find Quinn. I don’t feel well. I’m drunk.

  Do they even care that they haven’t seen me in hours? I’m the forgotten third wheel. They don’t fucking care about me.

  I jaggedly cut through the crowd, my steps long and exaggerated. My heart thumps in my chest, tapping against my ribs. Sweat beads down my back, washing away the spilled beer. The bass of the band reverberates through my body. It’s too loud. I can’t think. I need to find Quinn.

  ***

  I’m not sure how long I had been looking when I spot them near the restrooms. Finally.

  My movements are not fast. I will my legs to go faster but they don’t listen. I try to call out, “Hey guys, hey, wait up,” but my words come out slurred. They don’t even look in my direction.

  Something is not right. Even through my drunken haze, I notice that something is off. I’m too far away to hear, but I stay put and observe. Are Quinn and Asher arguing? Both of their mouths are moving fast and in unison, not giving the other a chance to listen. Quinn is doing that thing with her arms when she is irate, flailing them around with each word she spews at Asher.

  Asher reaches his hand toward Quinn’s shoulder, but she pulls back. There’s panic in her ocean-blue eyes. I’m not sure what to do, if anything. I feel the ground spinning below me.

  Asher glares back with a disappointed look. He attempts again to touch her, and before his hand reaches her, Quinn screams, “I didn’t lie. I don’t understand what you mean.” Her voice rises an entire octave. A crowd of people turn and stare.

  “Quinn, stop. Let’s talk about it,” Asher demands, but Quinn is already in a full sprint toward the river.

  I also run but stumble and hit the ground. I pick myself back up and yell, “Quinn, wait.” She doesn’t hear me, or if she does, she doesn’t care. I look back over my shoulder and see Asher walking in the other direction.

  Quinn’s blonde locks bounce along her back as she jaunts down the riverwalk. I’m dizzy, lightheaded, and feel weak, but I proceed. God, I wish I didn’t have the third beer. Or did I go back for more? I can’t remember.

  Quinn stops in the distance. I catch up and call out to her again. “Quinn, I’m coming, please wait.” She turns when she hears my voice this time. I’m almost to her now.

  But her eyes are cold as she stares in my direction. She’s not pleased to see me.

  I’m confused. I’m dizzy. I feel the ground moving, the world spinning. My vision is narrowing.

  Everything goes black.

  CHAPTER 18

  Charlie

  August 2012

  Chills rush through my body, and it thrusts in shock.

  Where am I?

  My eyes flutter and burn as I force them open. Nothing is coming into focus. Something cold makes its way down my forehead and pools in the corner of my eye. It stings.

  My body feels heavy. Weighted.

  I tell my arms to push me up, but they are weak and tremble as they attempt their task. Something scratches under my palms as I push my body up. My strength fails me, and my body slams back down to the hard, scratchy surface.

  Where the hell am I? I’m frightened.

  Where did Quinn go?

  My head is pulsating. I feel like I’ve been hit with a baseball bat. Everything is spinning. I drift out of consciousness.

  CHAPTER 19

  Charlie

  August 2012

  A shot of panic scares me awake. My body tingles and my head throbs. I still don’t know where I am.

  I rub my eyes and something sticky and wet transfers to my hand. I’m frozen with terror. I pull my hands away until they come into focus in front of my eyes. I study them, although my vision is blurred, I see red. My heart drops into my gut. That can’t be blood . . . Why would it be blood?

  Slowly, one memory shifts to the next, like a car running through the gears as it accelerates.

  I remember Quinn and Asher fighting. Asher said Quinn lied. Quinn ran. I chased after her.

  She saw me. Didn’t she? I swear I remember her looking straight at me, but if she did, why isn’t she here? We were down by the river. I shift my attention to study my surroundings. The little sliver of moonlight doesn’t offer much help, but I’m sure I’m not anywhere near the river. It’s outside, it’s dark, but I know I’m not where I last saw Quinn.

  Have I been moved? Did I walk here? What happened to me? Did I black out or did someone hurt me?

  Think Charlie, think. What happened to you?

  I can’t tell if it’s the effects of drinking or if it’s my possible injury, but the throbbing in my head is intensifying, and hot flashes run through my body
. I want fresh, cool air, but instead hot heavy humid air is all I’m presented with. I want to vomit. I need to get out of here. Wherever here is.

  My legs don’t want to move yet. They tingle and feel weak. I push my palms down and what I imagine are little pebbles sting my hands as I prop myself into a sitting pose and push myself alongside what appears to be a brick building. I don’t seem to be on a busy street, and I haven’t seen a soul since I woke up. No one even knows I’m here.

  I press my back against the bricks, feeling the coolness against my skin. I feel my body temperature lowering back to normal. I’m more alert now. Tears rush down my cheeks. I’m so confused. Is this the same thing that happened to me outside Liam’s house? This time Quinn was here. Why didn’t she help me? At Liam’s house I was all alone.

  Time to get moving, Charlie. You can do it this time. Get up.

  My legs shake and tremble as I slide up along the brick wall.

  Stay calm. One step at a time.

  I shuffle my feet forward through the pebbles; my foot kicks something up. I bend down and I feel lightheaded again, but I push through it. I retrieve the item and it’s my purse. Oh, thank heavens.

  I didn’t even remember to check for my belongings. I quickly rummage through the contents and everything seems to be accounted for. So, I didn’t get mugged, I guess.

  Get it together, Charlie.

  I pull my phone from my purse and dial Quinn. It rings and goes to voicemail. Strange.

  I call several times and finally leave a voicemail on the final call.

  “Hey, you’ve reached Quinn Sullivan, I’m not free to answer my phone, so please leave me a message, and if you’re lucky, I will call you back.” Quinn’s tone is free and fun and not like the Quinn I just saw today with Asher.

  “Quinn, where the hell are you? I saw you leave. Didn’t you see me? I chased after you. I don’t know where I am. Please call me back. I need help.”

  If Quinn gets that message, she has to call back. She will realize I’m in trouble and call me right away. Right?