Moms Night Out

by Tricia Goyer

The other women didn’t argue with Bridget. They didn’t offer any suggestions about what they should do. Fear furrowed their brows and tightened the muscles on their faces, and she was sure the same worry burdened their thoughts.

  What had happened to baby Phoenix?

  ***

  Allyson never thought she’d find herself here again, in the dark alley. Standing in something sticky and disgusting. Behind her she heard a man’s voice crying out. It was the cabbie. He’d parked the taxi at the end of the alley in their full view. Seeing that gave her a small sense of peace . . . at least she knew where to run to if anything happened.

  Izzy had come to the rescue with the baby wipes that she found in her purse. Allyson looked back and saw her trying to dab the cabbie’s nose. She tried to pat his nose, but he jerked back.

  “Ow!” he cried out. “Would you please stop?”

  “Why are you being such a baby?” Izzy asked.

  “I’m not!” Cabbie declared, whining.

  Allyson turned back around to face the door.

  Bridget approached the back door of the tattoo parlor, and Sondra stood just a few feet behind her. Allyson was a few steps behind Sondra, preparing herself not to jump when the mountain of muscle that was Bones swung open the back door again . . . at least she hoped that it was going to be Bones.

  Bridget pounded on the door. “Bones help! Bones!”

  The door swung open again. There was no shotgun in his hands this time, thank goodness. Allyson let out a sigh of relief. Instead, Bones wore a large scowl on his face.

  “I thought I told y’all to stay out of the alleys.” He looked to them, and his eyes widened.

  Bones eyed Bridget. His face scrunched up in worry. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

  Allyson rolled her eyes. The problem should be obvious— even to him. There was no baby in Bridget’s arms.

  Bridget brushed her hair out of her face. It had been soft ringlets earlier tonight, but now it hung limp. Bridget’s shoulders, too, slumped in defeat. “Caprice isn’t there. There’s some guy named Hank. He said she took Phoenix and he won’t tell us where.”

  Allyson waved a hand to the waiting taxi cab. “Then he assaulted our cab driver!” she said, still disbelieving it.

  Sondra lifted a fist and mimicked the punch. “Right in the nose. Blood everywhere!”

  Allyson turned to look at the cabbie, who was leaning back on his car where Izzy still dabbed his nose, then she turned back, waiting for Bone’s response.

  But instead of responding to Bridget, Bones turned to Sondra.

  “Lollapalooza?” he asked.

  Allyson assumed it was the location of some type of wild, Rockfest like the other places he’d mentioned.

  Sondra shook her head, adamant. “No.”

  “Ozzfest?” He widened his eyes, as if hopeful.

  “Never.” Her voice was firm.

  Allyson could see the gears in Bone’s mind churning through his old memories.

  “Live Aid?”

  Sondra pushed out an open hand toward him. “Please stop.”

  Bridget stepped forward and yanked on Bone’s jacket. “Can we PLEASE just pull the conversation back to my MISSING CHILD? I have no idea where he is. I’m so worried sick about it. I just don’t know where else to turn, so . . .”

  Bridget looked so small next to Bones. So young. Like a child who needed caring for, not a mother on a desperate search.

  Bridget swallowed a heavy breath and looked up at him, her eyes wide. Tears filled Allyson’s own gaze when she saw the tears welling up in Bridget’s.

  “Why did you leave him, Bones?” Bridget’s words released in a shaky breath.

  Allyson stood by Bridget’s side, trying not to blame herself. If she wouldn’t have scheduled this night, none of this would have happened. She’d be home with Sean, Phoenix, and her kids. Bridget would be making a paycheck to pay for her bills. And her friends . . . well, Izzy wouldn’t be dabbing the nose of some stranger with baby wipes and Sondra—her pastor’s wife— wouldn’t be standing next to her in some dark, stinky alley trying to seek help from a questionable biker/tattoo artist/Rockfest enthusiast.

  If she’d just left things as they were none of this would have happened.

  Why did she ever think that things could have changed for the better? Was it foolish to hope for something that obviously wasn’t within her grasp?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A knock sounded at the door, and Hank let his eyes drift open. His stomach growled, and he moaned. The television blared, but he didn’t feel like moving. A banging came again, louder. First that stupid crying baby and now this . . . his second interruption of the night.

  Can’t a man have peace in his own home? Not that it was his home. It was Caprice’s . . . but still.

  He lifted his head and his jaw dropped open. His mouth was dry and he needed a drink . . . yeah, a drink.

  The pounding was louder—echoing off the walls, shaking the house—and he jumped. Maybe it was Caprice and she lost her keys. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “Alright. Fine. I’m coming.” He tried to rouse himself and then moaned. He pushed himself up from the sofa that smelled like cigarettes and stumbled toward the door, stepping over junk that Caprice had left around. He didn’t know why she’d brought a baby here in the first place. He had little brothers and sisters and he knew kids just made a bigger mess.

  Hank unlocked the door and let it swing opened slowly. “Why do you have to be so loud?” he moaned.

  The door opened fully and he wondered if it was the end of time and the death angel had come for him. A large jfigure stood in the door, and Hank let out a squeal.

  Suddenly something grabbed the front of him and he was being jerked upward.

  His shirt twisted tight, cutting off his oxygen. Hank dared to open his eyes and was staring into a scruffy mustache, beard, and the beady, dark eyes of . . . Bones!

  Bones had pulled him eye level, and he held Hank’s face only inches from his own.

  “Hello, Hank.” Bone’s breath reeked of cigarettes and beef jerky.

  “Ahhh!” Hank let out a shriek of terror. He was dead. It wasn’t the death angel, but close . . . he’d never been on Bone’s good side.

  Hank pushed up on his toes, trying to get some balance and then stared into eyes of pure rage.

  ***

  Bones took pleasure in tightening his grip on Hank’s sweaty shirt, cutting off some of his oxygen. He didn’t know what Caprice saw in this kid. She had a good soul, that was for certain, but she didn’t like to be alone. Yet being alone had to fare better than living with a rat like Hank, didn’t it?

  Hank’s breaths came short and quick, and he wiggled in Bone’s hands like an ugly catfish on the end of a hook.

  “Bones.” Hank managed to squeeze words out of his clenched teeth. His eyes were gray, the color of sludge, rimmed with red.

  He smelled of sweat and beer. Bones thought Caprice deserved better than this no-good, ungrateful jerk . . . not that she was on Bone’s good side anymore either.

  The color drained from Hank’s face. Bones used to like that—like that people were afraid of him. It meant he could protect himself . . . and those he loved, but not this time. He’d failed Bridget. Deep down he knew it. Now it was up to him to get things right. And if he had to use his ferocity to do that, he would.

  “Bones!” Hank went limp in his grasp, knowing it was useless to fight.

  “Hank, where’s the baby?” His words came out in a growl.

  “Bones . . . I . . . I don’t know.”

  Bones pulled him closer. “Don’t lie to me.”

  Hank quivered in his grasp. “I’m not lying—”

  Bones shook him, hoping to shake some sense into this worthless ingrate. Hank winced, and his head bobbed like one of that little dog bobbleheads that his Aunt Peggy had on her dashboard. Hank’s teeth clattered. His arms flopped at his sides. But Bones didn’t let up.

  “Do you know what’s
going to happen to you?” Bones sneered. “Where did she say she was goin’?

  “I . . . um . . .”

  Bones could read it in Hank’s eyes. There was more that he knew . . . something he didn’t want to say.

  Hank swallowed hard, and Bones could feel Hank’s Adam’s apple scratching against his knuckles as Hank’s swallowed down his fear. Hank’s eyes widened.

  “I think her exact words were, ‘I need a drink,’” Hank finally squeaked out.

  “A drink?” Bone’s pulled him even closer so that their noses nearly touched. “You let Caprice, six month’s sober, go drinkin’ . . . with a baby?”

  Phoenix’s cute face flashed in Bone’s mind. That little kid had trusted him. He hadn’t even let out a peep as Bones had handed him over to Caprice. Pain jabbed in his heart and it hurt worse than the last time he’d wrecked his Harley and scraped up his arm. Hurt far more than that.

  Hank nodded. Terrified. Bones could tell that he knew what was coming next . . . and Hank winced. “Yes.” He lifted his eyebrows.

  “Hank, you deserve this.” The anger—at both Hank and himself—pulsed through him as Bone’s jerked his head forward. Their heads connected in a head butt, and a loud cracking sound split the air. At the same time, Bone pushed back Hank from his grasp, and he tumbled back, falling behind him. Even seeing Hank on the floor did nothing to ease the pounding anger flowing through him.

  A voice broke through, coming from the taxi cab behind him. “That’s what I would have done!” the cabbie called out.

  Bones turned back to all the women. He strode down the front porch stairs. Regret punctuated each step down the sidewalk. The cabbie stood there, too, as eyes as wide as theirs.

  Bones cleared his throat. He spread his arms wide. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems your baby is the drinking buddy of a relapsed alcoholic.”

  “Oh, no.” A sob escaped Bridget’s lips. He could see the strength that she’d been working so hard to maintain, drain from her. He reached a hand forward, she’s sure she was going to crumble onto the floor.

  Way to go, Bones . . . way to go.

  He moved to his bike, ready to take action. Bones had to do something—anything—to fix this. Even if that meant hitting every bar in town in search of Caprice. In search of Phoenix.

  ***

  Bridget didn’t want to believe Bone’s words.

  A drinking buddy? Caprice’s drinking buddy?

  That’s when it happened. Her legs refused to hold her up any longer. She’d worked so hard to be strong. She’d tried to keep herself on two feet . . . but it was no longer possible.

  Her body shifted, and Bridget thought for sure she was going down. That’s when she felt hands on her arms, holding her up. She glanced over her shoulder to see Sondra standing there.

  Bridget sucked in her breath, surprised. Yet as she thought about it, Sondra had been the one who’d taken them down that alley. She’d led the charge first, fighting for justice.

  Ally had invited Bridget to church before, but she’d made a thousand excuses. And after a while Bridget had just denied her outright. She thought the church ladies would look down on her—reject her and Phoenix. The pastor’s wife, especially. Now Sondra was the one who was standing strong beside her, holding her up.

  Sondra’s breath was warm on her cheek. “Just breathe. Just breathe.”

  Bones motioned them toward the taxi cab. “We don’t have much time. Let’s go.”

  And that’s when she knew, really knew that she wasn’t in this alone. She saw the determined looks on everyone’s faces. They weren’t going to give up . . . let it go . . . until Phoenix was safe in her arms.

  Bridget straightened and moved to the taxi. “Let’s go, com’on!”

  “We’ll start on the East side,” Bones called to them, moving to his motorcycle. “I know every bar in town.”

  ***

  Mary sat rocking in the chair by the front window. She’d looked out the same windows for the last forty years, and until lately she had no interest in living anywhere else. But in the last few months . . . sometimes she wondered if it was still safe here. She glanced at her husband Ronald. He lifted the edge of the curtain, peering out, and from the way his forehead folded in worry and his lips curved downward, she knew he was wondering the same thing.

  Ronald had been watching that house across the street all night. Since that young woman had moved in, there had been all types of unsavory characters coming and going. Tonight was no exception. No, scratch that. Tonight seemed to be even worse than normal.

  This was the second time the taxi had shown up. A taxi full of women, pounding on the door and asking to be let in. Even though she couldn’t see too well in the dimness and in the distance, she wondered if they were ladies of the night looking for someone.

  And then when they’d arrived a second time, the large biker on the motorcycle had been with them. Then she knew the people across the street were surely up to no good.

  “What’s all the ruckus over there anyway?” Ronald murmured, letting the curtain drop.

  Mary let out a long sigh. “Honey, you know there is no telling. Lord have mercy, those people across the street.” She continued rocking and then looked down at the baby in her lap. He was an adorable little thing with dark hair and eyes. He was as happy as he could be in her arms. “Your mama be here in a little bit, baby, ’m sure.”

  That young woman across the street hadn’t said much when she’d come to the door. The baby had been crying, and the woman had seemed stressed. “Can you just watch him for a little bit,” she’d asked. “His mama will be here later to get him.”

  Mary didn’t know what “later” had meant, but she’d been pleased to see a very organized diaper bag with step-by-step instructions on what he liked, when he needed to eat, and even his favorite songs to calm him. Mary didn’t know why his mama had trusted someone like Caprice to watch her son, but she trusted that this boy was loved very much and sooner or later someone would come.

  Outside the engine of the motorcycle started with a roar. It was loud . . . so loud driving off, followed by the taxi.

  But inside the baby snuggled to her chest. She hummed along the tune to “If You’re Happy and You Know It,” and watched as he sucked his fingers.

  How long had Mary been praying for those young folks— ever since the new renters moved in six months ago? That young woman was hard at first. So much pain carried around on her small frame. So much worry on her face. Mary had worked to build up trust over time, and this was proof that her work—her prayers—had paid off.

  Mary snuggled the baby boy closer. The Lord did seem to work in mysterious ways.

  ***

  Sean meandered through the hallway of the hospital, holding Beck in one arm and trying to open the swinging door with the other arm that was in a sling.

  They sent him to the emergency room, although he’d assure them it wasn’t an emergency. He pushed against the door and the room blurred around him because of the pain his movement caused . . . but only for a second. He was fine . . . almost as good as new. He looked around and realized that every chair was filled. No problem, he could stand. Beck wasn’t that heavy. And surely this wouldn’t take that long, would it? Maybe he’d even be able to get home and have time to clean up before Allyson got there.

  He stumbled in, and made his way to a line at the front desk.

  It’s then Sean heard a familiar voice behind him, and the shuffling of footsteps.

  “Sean? What’s going on?”

  Sean snapped around. He saw his pastor there. Concern reflected in Ray’s gaze.

  “Ray? What are you doing here?” Sean took a step toward him.

  “Ah, just visiting a church member.” Ray reached for Beck, and Beck went to him.

  Ray’s eyebrow’s furrowed. “You heard from the girls? I can’t get a hold of Sondra.” Overhead a doctor was being paged, but Sean tried to ignore it, focusing on Ray’s words.

 
; “Really? Ally too. Weird.” Sean remembered that he’d told Ally to unplug. At first he liked the idea that she could just focus on her friends with no distractions, but he hadn’t thought about how worried it would make everyone who tried to get a hold of them.

  He opened his mouth to assure Ray that everything was fine, and the buzzing of his phone interrupted his words.

  Sean held up a finger. “Hold on.” He saw his sister’s name on Caller ID. He pressed his cell phone to his ear. “Hello?” He heard a muffling voice. “Bridget?”

  “No!” It was his wife’s voice. “It’s Ally.” He didn’t know why she was calling on his sister’s phone, but that didn’t matter. The thing that mattered most was the desperation in her voice.

  People were talking around him, and he wished he could tell them to quiet. He waved a hand their direction and then closed his eyes, focusing on her words.

  “We’re in crazy trouble—” Her words cut in and out, and then there was static.

  “I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.”

  “—a Tattoo Parlor. It’s on 5th Avenue.” She was breathing hard. There was the sound of traffic. Was she riding with Izzy? Had they found the car? Sean didn’t have time to ask because Allyson continued talking. “Bones. Bones.”

  Bones? Was she talking about her dinner . . . was someone choking on a bone? Or maybe Izzy was getting a tattoo of a bone?” He shook his head. Nothing was making sense. Then he realized . . . Bones was the name of someone . . . and his heart skipped a beat.

  “Didn’t want you to worry,” Allyson continued. “—Use a little help. Our cab driver is bleeding everywhere. It’s insane.”

  Cab driver? Maybe they hadn’t found the car after all.

  “Bleeding?” Sean’s voice rose, filling the waiting area. “Someone’s bleeding?”

  Sean remembered that he was in a public place, and he knew that he shouldn’t be shouting, but the last thing he worried about was proper etiquette. His wife was in trouble.

  “Look out. Look out!” Allyson’s voice rose in volume over the phone.

  Ray moved toward him. “Did you say bleeding?”

  Then the phone cut out. Just like that the phone was dead.