Page 93 of Sunset Beach
“Was that the last time you saw her alive?”
“Yeah,” Neesa said. She drained the rest of her glass, then suddenly stood up, grasping the edge of the bar with both hands to steady herself. “I gotta go. Got class tomorrow morning, and we’re doing razor cuts.”
She swayed a little, then sat back down abruptly. “Whoa. Cowboy mighta made that last drink a little stout.” She dug in her pocketbook and brought out her phone.
“How are you getting home?” Drue asked. “You’re not driving, right?”
Neesa looked around the crowded bar. “I thought I had me a ride home, but looks like his friend made him leave already. Guess I’ll see about a cab.”
“Where do you live?” Drue asked quickly. “I can give you a ride. I was just about to leave, myself.”
“Down the road a ways,” Neesa said. “You sure you don’t mind?”
“Positive.”
It had started to rain while they were inside Mister B’s. Neesa stood next to Drue with shoulders hunched under the shelter of the club’s covered entryway, looking up at the sky. “Girl, I hope the rain don’t mess up this wig. I kinda borrowed it from school.”
“I’ll go get my car and pick you up,” Drue said. “Stay here and I’ll be right back.”
Her bad knee protested as she sprinted through the deepening puddles in the parking lot, but she didn’t care. She found OJ, jumped in the driver’s seat and pulled out the ashtray, where she carefully positioned her cell phone. Then she drove through the downpour to the club’s entry, blinking her headlights to let her passenger know her ride had arrived.
Drue watched while Neesa wobbled toward the Bronco, teetering precariously atop her spike-heeled metal-studded boots. As Neesa approached, Drue tapped the Record button on the phone and slid the ashtray back into the dashboard.
“Where to?” she asked, as they pulled out of the parking lot.
Neesa yawned widely. “Straight down this road for ten miles, then when you get to the Walmart shopping center, take a left at the light. My complex is behind there.” She leaned back in the seat, her neck lolling against the headrest.
Drue was afraid the other woman was about to nod off. “What’s it like, working in a big hotel?” she blurted. “Do the guests, like, hit on you? Stuff like that?”
“Sometimes, but really, it’s more like the men who work there,” Neesa said, her eyes closed. “They’re all pigs.”
“Like who?”
“The bosses,” Neesa said. “Head of housekeeping, head of security, the guys in engineering, you name it, everybody with a dick and a name badge.”
“That’s awful,” Drue said, acting shocked. “Do you think one of them hurt your friend?”
“I don’t think it. I know it.”
“Did your friend Jazmin—is that her name?—did she tell you that was going on?”
“She didn’t have to. I seen it. This one time, I was waiting on the service elevator and the doors opened, and he had Jaz backed into a corner, had his hands down in her pants. As soon as he saw me standing there, he gave me this look and punched the button to close the doors.”
“Gross. Who was the guy?”
“Head of housekeeping. His name was Herman. Like Herman Munster, you know? Nasty old piece of shit.”
“Oh wow. Did she report him?”
“Jaz? No.”
“Did she talk to you about it?”
“Kind of.”
“What did she say?”
Neesa yawned again. Her eyes were closed and her breathing had slowed. Drue was afraid she was about to pass out.
