up.
Middlestead stepped back and away as the woman turned towards him and the door. Her green eyes appeared to be lit by an inner fire and her mouth was curled in a feral smile. "Where is she? Is she okay?"
"I don't know but I'm gonna find out." Jordan rattled a strange set of keys. "I'm gonna take a cruise in whatsername's car and see if I can scare her up."
"I'm going, too," the man insisted stubbornly as he followed her down the stairs. The redhead stopped so abruptly that he plowed into her and they both almost took a tumble.
"No, you are going to stay here in case she shows up or calls," she ordered.
Despite himself, Middlestead took a step upwards and away from her intense glare. "But..."
"No, buts," she growled. "You don't know the bus system and I do. I can already tell you two ways she would have gone." Jordan turned and began her descent again, continuing. "She obviously either missed the bus entirely or missed the connection and has been walking."
Middlestead trotted down the stairs after her, trying to think of a reason to go. "Two cars, two search parties. We could cover more ground in less time," he suggested.
Jordan opened the door and turned back to the worried man. "Look, Tom," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Best case scenario - I find her and you don't. You keep looking, worried sick, until dawn and you come home to find her asleep in her own bed."
He considered this with a frown before standing straighter and shrugging his shoulders, not convinced.
The redhead scowled at him and continued, an edge to her voice. "Worst case scenario - there's been a horrible accident, she needs emergency surgery and your signature on the paperwork. You're not here to get the call. She's dead and you're guilty." She glared at him. "You like that one better?"
Middlestead gulped, fear showing in his eyes. He searched the guitarist's unflinching gaze, finally breaking contact and looking down. "No," he said softly.
"I'll probably pick her up inside of an hour. I'll have her call when I do, okay?"
The drummer nodded.
"Okay. Later then." And Jordan went out the door.
I swear! All they ever think with is their... dicks! Sonny fumed. "What is it with guys?!" she demanded of the night sky.
When no answer was forthcoming, she pulled the collar of her jacket closer to her neck in the rain and dug her hands deep into her pockets. Fortunately it was the standard misty drizzle that was popular for the Portland area and not a real downpour to soak her. She continued walking.
She'd learned a valuable lesson tonight. Never, never, ever go on a date without twice the bus fare home. At the very least, she would have had the thirty-five cents for a payphone and been able to call the bar where Warlord had been playing. As it was, they wouldn't accept the collect call she'd made from downtown and she'd had to walk. At the time it was for too early to call home and now that it was late enough, there were no payphones in sight.
Sonny was in a predominantly residential area at the moment. She knew that there would be a Safeway up ahead another mile or so - it was on the bus line she took on a regular basis. I'll call Tom from there. A flash of her brother being worried sick and angry crossed her mind. "Oh, man, is he gonna be pissed."
There were headlights ahead, coming towards her. The teenager stood straighter as she strode along, head held high. At this hour, alone and in an unfamiliar neighborhood, Sonny knew she wasn't safe. She heard Jordan's voice saying, "If ya act like you belong, they'll think you belong. Don't be looking at the sidewalk with your head down. You'll have 'victim' written all over you."
The car continued along the road towards her. When the driver got close enough to actually see her, the vehicle slowed down and honked.
Sonny's heart pounded, but she kept her head. A glance at the car told her she didn't know who it was. And the streetlight overhead was reflecting off the windshield so she
Middlestead stepped back and away as the woman turned towards him and the door. Her green eyes appeared to be lit by an inner fire and her mouth was curled in a feral smile. "Where is she? Is she okay?"
"I don't know but I'm gonna find out." Jordan rattled a strange set of keys. "I'm gonna take a cruise in whatsername's car and see if I can scare her up."
"I'm going, too," the man insisted stubbornly as he followed her down the stairs. The redhead stopped so abruptly that he plowed into her and they both almost took a tumble.
"No, you are going to stay here in case she shows up or calls," she ordered.
Despite himself, Middlestead took a step upwards and away from her intense glare. "But..."
"No, buts," she growled. "You don't know the bus system and I do. I can already tell you two ways she would have gone." Jordan turned and began her descent again, continuing. "She obviously either missed the bus entirely or missed the connection and has been walking."
Middlestead trotted down the stairs after her, trying to think of a reason to go. "Two cars, two search parties. We could cover more ground in less time," he suggested.
Jordan opened the door and turned back to the worried man. "Look, Tom," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Best case scenario - I find her and you don't. You keep looking, worried sick, until dawn and you come home to find her asleep in her own bed."
He considered this with a frown before standing straighter and shrugging his shoulders, not convinced.
The redhead scowled at him and continued, an edge to her voice. "Worst case scenario - there's been a horrible accident, she needs emergency surgery and your signature on the paperwork. You're not here to get the call. She's dead and you're guilty." She glared at him. "You like that one better?"
Middlestead gulped, fear showing in his eyes. He searched the guitarist's unflinching gaze, finally breaking contact and looking down. "No," he said softly.
"I'll probably pick her up inside of an hour. I'll have her call when I do, okay?"
The drummer nodded.
"Okay. Later then." And Jordan went out the door.
I swear! All they ever think with is their... dicks! Sonny fumed. "What is it with guys?!" she demanded of the night sky.
When no answer was forthcoming, she pulled the collar of her jacket closer to her neck in the rain and dug her hands deep into her pockets. Fortunately it was the standard misty drizzle that was popular for the Portland area and not a real downpour to soak her. She continued walking.
She'd learned a valuable lesson tonight. Never, never, ever go on a date without twice the bus fare home. At the very least, she would have had the thirty-five cents for a payphone and been able to call the bar where Warlord had been playing. As it was, they wouldn't accept the collect call she'd made from downtown and she'd had to walk. At the time it was for too early to call home and now that it was late enough, there were no payphones in sight.
Sonny was in a predominantly residential area at the moment. She knew that there would be a Safeway up ahead another mile or so - it was on the bus line she took on a regular basis. I'll call Tom from there. A flash of her brother being worried sick and angry crossed her mind. "Oh, man, is he gonna be pissed."
There were headlights ahead, coming towards her. The teenager stood straighter as she strode along, head held high. At this hour, alone and in an unfamiliar neighborhood, Sonny knew she wasn't safe. She heard Jordan's voice saying, "If ya act like you belong, they'll think you belong. Don't be looking at the sidewalk with your head down. You'll have 'victim' written all over you."
The car continued along the road towards her. When the driver got close enough to actually see her, the vehicle slowed down and honked.
Sonny's heart pounded, but she kept her head. A glance at the car told her she didn't know who it was. And the streetlight overhead was reflecting off the windshield so she
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