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“Uh…who’s this?” a woman asked.
“This is Owen.”
“Owen, why do you have Devyn’s phone?”
“I just found this cell in the men’s room.”
“The men’s room where?”
“At the bar—Polo Place on Twenty-first.”
“Shoot. That’s what I was worried about. My friend had a bad day—a bad week, actually.”
“Can he not hold his liquor or something?”
“He is a she, and no, she’s pretty much a lightweight. It takes her three sips to finish a shot, and a frozen margarita is liquid by the time she’s gotten through half of it.”
“Devyn is a she? I found her phone in the men’s room.”
“Was there a long line for the ladies’?”
“Actually, there was.”
“Then she would have used the men’s room. Devynhatespublic restrooms. So she waits until the last second, thinking she can hold it until she gets home. Then it turns into an urgent situation, and she has to go wherever she can. That’s often the men’s room in bars.”
“Why does she hate public restrooms? Is she a germaphobe or something?”
“No, she’s had two bad experiences. The first time, she was a teenager in an Applebee’s. The stall wouldn’t lock, so she closed it as best she could. But a drunk lady barged in and puked all over her lap while she was hovering over the toilet bowl peeing.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope. I wish I was. She jumped up, but it was too late—covered in puke and also wound up peeing on her clothes when she stood.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what was the other bad experience?”
“Oh, another time she was on a blind date in a quiet restaurant when she had to use the ladies’ room. The woman next to her apparently brought her son into the stall with her. The little boy stuck his head under and watched her pee, and then when he saw her in the restaurant, he started yelling at the top of his lungs while pointing and demanding to know why she had no hair on her pee-pee.”
I chuckled. “That’s pretty funny.”
“For us, yes. For her…not so much. But that pretty much sums up the kind of luck my friend has. Lately, it’s been even worse.”
I had no idea why, but I was curious. “What happened recently?”
“She’s got a shitty mom who dumps her problems on her. And then there’s the guy she’s been in love with for years who strings her along. Don’t even get me started on the siblings from hell she believes are angels. I’m pretty sure they’re the spawn of Satan.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Are you really?” the woman asked.
I thought about it. “Yeah, I am. It sucks to have shitty parents and be strung along.”
“You sound like a nice guy. What was your name again?”
“Owen. What’s yours?”
“Mia.” She paused. “Listen, now that we’re buddies, would you mind looking around the bar for my friend? That way you can return her phone to her, and I can also make sure she’s okay.”
“Yeah, I can do that. But this place is pretty packed. Can you give me an idea what she looks like?”
