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Rated: 18+ · Draft · Dark · #2146134
When you learn what goes bump in the night, can one woman not only find herself but love?
In front of a dimly lit bar, Maggie Holland waited with less patince than she would like for her boyfriend to show up. Glacing at her watch, Maggie's mood darkened.

Where the Hell is he?

Pulling her phone off of her pocket, Maggie punched in the number and waited. After ten rings, she hung up. Figuring that he'd have some lame excuse for ditching her, Maggie turned and entered the bar. She was in despite need of a drink. Inside, the bar was small and dark. A mix of alternative and old rock-n-roll played loudly throughout, while a strange mix of individuals filled a few booths and bar stools. As she made her way towards the bar, Maggie couldn't help but notice that everyone seemed to be staring at her. One table even turned in their seats to follow her as she ease onto the farthermost bar stool, giving Maggie the creeps.

Why did Andy want to meet here? Maggie thought, taking in her surroundings. Behind the bar, a young girl with a mohawk and a nose ring big enough to hull a bull around by rolled her eyes as she made her way over to Maggie.

"What ya want?"

"Wine. Red."

The girl sighed and tossed a worn paper menu towards her. "We don't have wine. Pick something else."

"I guess this place isn't big on customer service, huh?" Maggie's smile was met with an angry scowl from the bartender. Clearly, she didn't find Maggie the least bit entertaining. "I'll just have a beer, thanks."

As the girl left to get her drink, Maggie felt her phone vibrate. Checking the screen, Maggie quickly answered the call.

"Andy, where are you? You said by here by 9 o'clock and I've been waiting for you for over an hour."

"Maggie, we need to talk." There wasn't any emotion in his voice at all.

"That was kind of the point of us meeting, wasn't it?" Maggie nodded as the girl slid her beer over to her.

"Maggie...I'm in trouble."

"Again. Damn it Andy."

"No, listen to me. I'm in real trouble this time. I fucked up Maggie, I fucked up real bad."

"Slow down, what happened?"

"I can't say over the phone, they'll hear me."

"They?" Now he was starting to sound like a crazy person. "Andy, who are you talking about? Who's they?"

But the call ended. Maggie just stared at the screen, completely confused. Andy had always found his share of trouble. When you've known somebody as long as they had, you learned about all the dark skeletons they kept hidden away. But he had never gotten into anything dangerous. Sure, Maggie had to bail him out of jail a few time for getting to drunk and causing fights and Andy always seemed to find a way to turn it around on the other guy. Yet he had never done anything that would have him running scared. Which was exactly what he was doing right now.

Maggie looked around, unsure of what she was supposed to do. She didn't know where Andy was, so she couldn't go to him to get answers. After four attempts to call him back, Maggie decided that Andy had turned his phone off, so that wasn't going to work either. Sipping on her beer, Maggie wondered what she should do.

This was just like Andy, always dragging her into drama. But that was the whole point of their meeting here tonight. Andy may not have known it, but Maggie was done. She had finally landed that job she had been after for two years. She was finally going to be a real journalist and that left no more room in her life for the unpredictable Andy. She felt bad, after all, they'd been together since freshman year of high school. But after almost nine years, Maggie had come to realize that Andy was never going to grow up. That boyhood charm was one of the things Maggie loved about him, but she wasn't a teenager anymore. She had dreams and goals, goals that wouldn't be possible if she had to spend half her life cleaning up Andy's mistakes. So Maggie had made up her mind that she was going to break it off with Andy, once and for all. She'd ask to remain friends but if he couldn't handle it that was fine with her too. By this time next week, she would be in a real newsroom, learning from the best in the field.

Four beers later, Maggie wasn't as worried about Andy as she felt she should be. He's probably got some chick knock up and is to chicken shit to tell me, she thought angrily as she paid off her tab. She was still silently cursing him as she made her way out the double doors and onto the street. Maggie walked for blocks, lost in her own semi-drunk haze. She knew she should go home, but Andy might be there waiting for her. And Maggie didn't think she was in the right state of mind to deal with him right now. It wasn't long before Maggie realized that she must have turn on the wrong street somewhere along the way, cause she was completely lost.
Checking her phone, Maggie groaned. Almost dead. Turning on her GPS and hoping for a small miracle. Just as the phone find her location, the screen went black.

"Shit!" Maggie yelled, shoving her useless phone back into her bag. Looking around, Maggie seemed to be in the industrial district. Father down the street, under a dim street light, Maggie could see a phone box. She knew it probably wouldn't have a working phone. After all, this is 2018, fifth graders had cellphones. Who in their right mind would ever need a payphone. This fact didn't stop Maggie from jogging over to the phone box. She was shocked beyond belief when she saw that there was an actual phone in the box. Sliding open the door, Maggie reached inside and lifted the receiver from it's silver crawls and put it to her ear. Maggie's shock increased when she heard a dial tone on the other end. Maggie eagerly started pushing the buttons, dial the only number she knew by heart.

"Come on....come on..."

"Hey, you've reached Andrew Collins. I can't get to the phone right now but..."

Maggie slammed the phone down, "FUCK!"

Leaning against the cool, glass of the phone box Maggie tried to think of somebody...anybody she could call. But no one came to mind. Tears threatened at the pack of her eyes, she was lost and completely alone, with no one to miss her when she didn't come home. Stop it! Maggie scolded herself, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Crying won't fix anything. But the tears wouldn't stop. Try as she might, what started as a few ended in a full blown meltdown.

Maggie bawled into her hands, the stress and worry finally to much for her to handle. At first she didn't hear the soft tapping, then through her sobs, Maggie heard the door slid open.

"Can't you see I'm a little busy here?" She snapped without looking up, to embarrassed to show her face.

"I can see that you are troubled."

Maggie's eyes shot up at the voice, it's deep bass filling the small booth. Leaning in the phone box was a tall, very handsome stranger. His face showed little emotion but there was a softness in his features that was sketched with concern. "I'm...I'm alright."

The stranger chuckled, a smile caressing his face. "Somehow I doubt that." He reached out his hand, clearly offering her help.

Maggie thought about it for a moment then, realizing that this night couldn't possibly get any worse, took his out stretched hand. She was surprised by how soft and cool his hand felt. Smiling down at her, he lifted Maggie off the ground as if she were a child, his eyes never once leaving hers.

"May I ask why you are out here crying?"

Maggie felt the heat rush to her face and quickly pulled her hand from his. "That's none of your business." She snapped sharply. "Why are you out here talking to complete strangers?"

The dark stranger threw back his head, laughing at her stern tone. Maggie was disturbed to find that his laugh sent a bolt of lighting down her spine. The feeling was as foreign to her as his rich accent.

"How very rude of me," he calmed himself, a playful grin still on his lips. "Allow me to introduce myself.." He bowed at the waist, the very er of aristocratic nobility. " Louis Oleander, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

Maggie eye'd Louis carefully, taking in his well-made suit and designer shoes. She scanned him up and down, making mental notes in case this he turned out the be a serial killer.
© Copyright 2018 Catherine DuBose (ladyinthemoon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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