The base beat was a second heartbeat, steady and thrumming in my bones. I wasn’t much for dancing and I still wanted to be out on the floor. Instead I was behind the bar with a suit hidden in a duffel turning into a wrinkled mess.
“We’re getting low on wineglasses,” Mike almost shouted.
I felt my lips twist in annoyance at the almost-empty crate; it wasn’t normal for there to be that many wine drinkers, which either meant unusual drinks or that Mike was deliberately using the wrong glass so he could send me away. I would have welcomed the excuse to mingle and try to match if I didn’t think he would snitch on me. This was my job for the foreseeable future and Mike wanted me gone.
Was it better to get fired and join the Ball, or keep my new job?
“Can you go and get more?”
I ducked out from behind the bar and grabbed an empty serving tray. Picking up the empty glasses wasn’t my job exactly, but it was the closest I would get to mingling right now. Sometimes the guests didn’t realize I was staff right away.
“Hi again.”
I turned at the greeting, almost dropping the tray when I saw my almost-match again. My face heated at the slip and I moved the dirty dishes out of the way.
“Throat still strained?” she asked with a small smile.
I nodded and shrugged a bit to try and say sorry.
“I guess it’s a bit of a guessing game tonight, then,” she said. “Sounds fun. With that tray - working tonight?”
I nodded, setting the tray more firmly on a table before some drunk idiot knocked them over. The secretary had switched from white to black tonight; her dress was tasteful and a lot more conservative than some of her coworkers, but it still showed off her curves quite well.
“Don’t you work at Redbird’s?”
I hesitated, unsure how to say I’d changed jobs without my phone. The club prohibited staff from using them, so mine was in my duffel with my suit.
“It’s complicated?” she guessed.
I nodded and shifted. She was an almost-match - but she wasn’t the one. Maybe with time she’d learn ASL or we’d find another way. She just wanted a lot of talk and I couldn’t do that anymore. I pointed to the tray.
“Back to work?”
I nodded.
“I guess that is why they pay you. It’s good to see you again. Will I see you around?”
I pointed at the bar where Mike was watching us.
“Bartender, huh?” she asked, a grin spreading across her face. “Not too shabby. I’ll head over that way later tonight and maybe we can chat.”
One of her friends called for her and I ducked away without giving her an answer. I pushed into the back room and handed the tray full of empty glasses over to one of the busy busboys. It only took a moment to grab a tray of clean glasses from the dishwasher and then slide back out into the crowd.
The one downside to working here was how personal space shrank down to the absolute minimum. In order to feel as close as possible, everyone seemed to be pressing up against everyone else - including the staff. A brush up against my side, arm slung around my neck, and small hands wrapping around my bicep to admire the strength weren’t unusual. Some touches were brief while others lingered, and I couldn’t remember ever having so many casual encounters in my life. The party had been going for two hours already and my nerves just couldn’t settle. At least the blush faded quickly. I didn’t feel dirty or uncomfortable exactly; it was hard to name, a sense of buzzing under the skin and a warmth in my bones. Almost like night-before-Christmas jitters when I was small.
I delivered the glasses and returned to serving the customers, leaving Mike to either store them or use them straight from the tray while I served the other side of the bar. The crowd had turned to an anonymous mass long ago; I no longer tried to remember which drink a person ordered before or how many that person had already swallowed down. Instead I waited patiently for them to point or shout out an order and then I filled it as quickly as possible, making sure to place the glass next to the tip jar. (It didn’t look like anything was missing from it, but it wasn’t nearly as full as Mike’s.)
Suddenly Victoria was in front of me with a frown on her face. I didn’t like the way she was biting her lip and leaning forward, slipping up onto her toes so she could get closer. “Have you seen Liza?”
I shook my head and signed, “What’s wrong?”
“She went to the bathroom twenty minutes ago, and I haven’t seen her since. I just went and checked and she’s not there,” Victoria said, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry! I know you said to stay together but I was just dancing right by where she would be -”
I shook my head again, feeling like a stupid bobble-head, and pointed at her to cut her off. When she quieted and was watching me I signed, “Go home. I’ll find her and take her home. Text me when you get there.”
Victoria slipped back onto her feet. “Can’t I help you look?”
“I’ll worry. Everyone here is drunk. I think it’ll end soon.” I tried to keep to words she knew, but I had to spell ‘drunk’; even I didn’t know that one.
“Ash-”
“Go home.”
Finally, she nodded.
I grabbed a napkin and wrote out: Family emergency. I need to leave. The tips are yours. I handed it to Mike as I slipped out from behind the bar. A sharp tug on my wrist hauled me back. “The hell, man?” Mike demanded. “You’re going to leave me short!”
Angrily, I ripped the napkin back and wrote: My cousin is lost. Deal with it.
Then I dashed into the crowd and started paying attention to the people again.
I scanned the crowd as quickly as I could, so many thoughts rushing through that my brain had just stopped. I just couldn’t. So I scanned for blue hair, the streaks ‘Toria had dared her to get surely standing out from the blonde - brown - black - red -
Looking left and moving right, I bumped into a firm chest and nearly cried.
“Oh wow, you are definitely mine.” Soft words whispered close to my ear like a caress, and my only thought was that this man wasn’t Liza. How could I possibly process words when she could be dead - dying - hurt -
I backed away and took a stuttering breath. Panic didn’t help. Panic was why I sent Victoria away. The man I’d bumped into was familiar now that I saw him: Tyr Prince. “Mr Prince, please,” I started signing.
The apology never finished. His hand grabbed my bruised wrist, and I let out a breath of pain. He couldn’t know it still hurt.
“These are my words,” Mr. Prince said, his eyes fixed on my wrist.
And he was right - a perfect match for his words wrapped around my wrist in stark black letters, twisting around the back of my hand so the “Oh” was next to the bony part and the “mine” landed delicately on the inside of my wrist like an intimate kiss against my pulse.
But Liza was still missing.
Ripping myself away from my soulmate was like refusing to eat when I was starving; it went against every instinct I had and left my belly a queasy mess. I wasn’t sure if I was going to puke or pass out, and I couldn’t tell if he was the reason or Liza was.
I wanted to turn back, find him again and explain, but without a voice it would take too long. My phone was back in the locker room and Liza was nowhere to be seen. A light blue sundress was similar in color, but not her - that braid was missing the streak of blue down the side - those feather earrings were red, not tan. She wasn’t on the dance floor or in the lounge, Victoria had checked the bathroom, and the other sections of the club were employee only.
I ducked into the back alleyway just to see. It would be too much like a movie for her to resist, and there wasn’t a way back in if the door closed. There was a blonde out there smoking, but it wasn’t Liza. “You okay, honey?” she asked. Her voice sounded scratchy and full of rocks, not something I usually responded to. But if she’d seen anything…
“Looking for my cousin,” I signed. “Blue dress, blonde hair with blue -” I motioned to show where the streak was.
The woman laughed. “Go back inside, darling. Your cousin went home an hour ago. She’s fine.”
Relief and fear took over at once. There was no way I could trust this woman, but at least there was some news. Even unreliable it was better than nothing. “Thanks,” I signed. I ducked back inside, but didn’t go back to work or even search out my match. A perfect match could wait until I saw for myself that Liza was safe. If he really was my match, he’d understand. If he wasn’t - I guess I just joined the multitudes of people who could hear their words more than once.
Comments (4)
See all