Page 99 of Adoring Fletcher
He laughed. “Only the best for my husband.”
“I thinksomeonewants to get lucky tonight,” I teased.
Adam grinned, showing a bit of fang. “That, too.”
“Guys, gross,” Josie complained as she entered the office to clock in. “Talk about that stuff in private.”
“Wearein private!” Adam and I exclaimed in unison. Our laughter echoed in the small room.
It was almost four PM and our evening crew was coming in.
“Hey Boss,” said Mike.
“Hi, boss!” Elodie sang out. “Aww, happy V-day guys!”
By 4:05, everyone had clocked in…except Sky. I looked at Adam, a hint of worry in my heart. “Do you think he just forgot to clock in? I’ll do a quick sweep.”
I walked around Bixby’s, but there was no sign of him. When I saw Josie wiping down booths, I pulled her off to the side. “Hey, have you heard from Sky?” The two of them had become pretty good friends these last couple of months, and I figured if anyone knew anything, it’d be her.
“Not since last night, no. Why? Is he late?”
“Yeah. He hasn’t shown up yet. Did he say anything about calling off?”
“No, but…” She frowned. “He was acting kind of weird last night, actually. Some of the stuff didn’t make sense. I think he might’ve been drunk, though.” She shrugged. “Been there, done that.”
It was my turn to frown. Sky didn’t drink. He told me once that it tasted like drinking battery acid.
Something was wrong.
I sought out Adam and relayed the info. “I’m going to call him,” I announced, scrolling through my contacts until I found Sky’s name.
It didn’t even ring, just sent me straight to voicemail. The knot growing in my stomach only tightened further.
I texted him:Are you coming in for your shift tonight?I sent it, then paused. No. That wasn’t what I cared about at all.I added:More importantly, are you okay? I’m worried about you.
I got no reply. The texts were shown as delivered, but not read. Damn it.
We continued on with our shift, because as the saying went, “The show must go on,” but the entire time, anxiety riddled me. I had the bad feeling something had happened.
The past couple of weeks, Sky had been off. Despondent, a bit depressed. Less talkative and more withdrawn, scribbling in his notebook on breaks.
I’d even reached out to his roommate-slash-guardian, Jem Murphy, who had similar concerns and told me he wasn’t sure Sky was taking his antidepressants anymore.
It was six-thirty PM and getting dark out when my phone went off with a ding. My heart in my throat, I rushed to read it, but the text was weird.
ImsrryFlcthr didsmthb ad. Im sorrry I so fcked up don hv 2 worrrrry bout me ne moretho…
I barely had time to try and decipher it when a second text rang through, moments later:do u thnk death hurts? Im scard.
Fuck. “ADAM!” I shouted, panic rising in my throat. Oh no. Adam was at my side in an instant and I handed my phone over with shaky hands. He read the texts and cursed under his breath.
I quickly texted back:Where are you, sweetheart?
Dunno.
Think, Fletcher, think!Can you take a selfie?
A few minutes passed. My heart was in knots, my stomach sick. When my phone finally dinged, I was relieved to see a blurry, grainy cell phone photo of a tear-streaked, desolate Sky sitting among bottles of alcohol.
