Annie lurks from the left side of the bar, on the quietest corner away from the door and the restrooms. At this point, about three hours in, whichever people here, are here to drink. Beers, mules, shots. Beers, mules, shots. Mules are the new shots, she learns tonight.
Cut to the very first time Annie came. She sat at the same spot, nervously holding her bag on her lap the whole time. She had profoundly stared at the faces - and nail beds - of each brunet man that came in. Every move she made was calculated. She went to the bathroom once quickly as possible. She focused on drinking extremely slow. She stared and made mental notes. She was waiting for the moment when a man with broad shoulders, short nail beds, dark hair and this impossibly guilty energy would come in, and she would know instantly it was him. That's what she'd waited for the previous day. A man to aim her next plan at.
Then, little by little, each time she looked at a man's face for too long, she'd feel a small wave of nausea. She thought about Britta laying in her bed, half naked, cold, wet, while this man fucked her up and walked away.
Today, Annie is bored. Her purse is hanging on the back of her chair, she's holding her head on her hands. People have come, drank, talked and left. She couldn't recall any faces anymore, everybody looked the same. She stands, frustrated, and walks to the door thinking maybe Britta was right after all, there was no point. She and Britta had argued about this before she left. Britta was suddenly insecure about the consequences of starting an investigation with the police.
"What consequences?" Annie had wanted to know.
"Exposing myself in the most embarrassing way, and for nothing, if this happens to go nowhere..." Britta had decided.
"Britta! Exposing yourself? To whom? We are all on your side!"
"You are all on my side?" Britta asked with surprise. Annie could see the desperation in her eyes. But when she closed her eyes and sighed and said,
"We will be on your side," and Britta nodded and took a step back and looked away, Annie remembered. Her trust nowadays was so delicate that a single word could shatter it. "Britta, come on, I didn't tell anyone. All I'm trying to say is..."
Nothing. I'm trying to say nothing, she thought. I was just trying to help.
She'd left her house feeling empty and dark, which she knew wasn't really who she was, but this whole thing was hard to bear, being the single person who knew, the single person who could help with anything, if anything could be helped. And something needed to be helped, she knew, because now, every day Britta was somebody sadder than the day before.
Welcome to May in Colorado, it is raining outside. She sighs looking at the rain patterns on the sidewalk. Has this silliness gone too far? Her feet are wet, her legs are cold, her car is far. No messages on her phone, she checks. She rubs the goosebumps on her arms. The wind blows a small sheet of rain to her body and she steps out into it.
But something shelters her from the rain, she stays dry. She turns around. A man is standing by the door still and stretches his arm to hold an umbrella above her head. She squints and stares at him a while, so he frowns.
"Just trying to be a gentleman."
Now she frowns and looks around herself. Nobody is out on the street. It's dark, she can't see anything except blurred window lights and the splattering raindrops around herself.
"I'm Peter." He puts his other hand on his chest like he's talking to a child, "What's your name?"
"I'm Ann... gela," she answers, looking up at him.
"It's nice to meet you Angela. And what brings you to this God forsaken town?"
"I go. To work."
"I can tell you're uncomfortable talking to me. I'm sorry. I just wanted to offer you a ride under my umbrella." Pause. "I'm sorry, I just made it more weird. I..."
Annie laughs a bit still staring, like she is watching a show.
"You're a pretty girl. I understand. I just..." He stares down the street at nothing, Annie knows, because she just looked and you can't see anything. He grins and looks down, lifts one hand and shrugs at the rain. "This... Colorado weather. It's so unpredictable. I live in Florida" He says putting his hand on his chest again, "I can deal with hurricanes, but this weather... this... Winter in the middle of Spring. Can't deal.
"Why do you?" Annie replies, catching herself being flirty? What is she doing?
"My mom's here, she had a stroke a few weeks ago."
"Oh."
"Oh, don't worry, she's ok. My dad, he took good care of her. She'll be good as new soon."
"I'm sure she appreciates you coming."
"Couldn't not come," he says shrugging again, "Greendale is ok. I grew up in Denver." He says and looks down at the end of the street again "You want a ride to your car?"
"Sure." She answers, and he steps down and next to her. Wait! How irresponsible! Or is this paranoia? Is she willing to take the risk? "Actually," she stops, then he stops one step ahead and looks back, "I'd better..."
He looks down and nods. He takes a step back from her smiling, "I understand," He says and walks away, "Good night!"
She watches him walk on. The cold water quickly starts drenching her hair. She squints and tries to cover her face with her hand, but the wind waves the rain about and she can't see much ahead. It's cold, she shivers. And dark. It's very dark. The lot is a block ahead, the same direction he is walking, and she is left alone in the dark with the shouting of the rain.
"Actually!" She shouts loud, "Wait!" While she walks, she picks up her phone and dials 9-1-1, holding it in her hands and crossing her arms. She holds her keys in the other hand, she can see the lot already, her car is parked right up front.
"Change your mind already, huh."