Afterparty
Leigh opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings in a lazy, dream-like gaze. She felt the grimy surface of the sofa she reclined on, before studying the small, narrow room it sat inside. Her eyes fell to the coffee table in front of her. Placed next to an ashtray was a packet of pills, hastily opened. Her purse was nowhere to be found.
Sitting up, she winced, holding her head.
“Fuck,” she whispered, feeling the lump around her temple. Her body began to respond, pain rushing through her head, making her vision spin.
Breathing slowly, she shifted forward, picking up the pills. She looked at the blue diamond shape and Chinese lettering on the sleeve before letting them fall onto the table. She made a quick assessment of her person, finding with relief that nothing seemed amiss. But she certainly felt like shit—the result of whatever drug she had ingested.
Looking to her right, she saw a closed door marked “private.” Next to it sat a trash can. Hastening over to the receptacle, she stuck two fingers down her throat, heaving until she vomited. Her eyes watered as she rid her stomach of its contents. The deed complete, she sat back on her heels.
Feeling instant relief, she strolled over to a row of tinted windows. Looking down on the pulsating crowd, she realized she was on the upstairs level of the club. This meant she knew the way out. Locating a door behind the couch, Leigh hastily moved towards the exit.
Easing the door open slightly, she spotted several bouncers positioned at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Pulling back, she closed the door.
“Not ready for that yet,” she muttered, intent on mustering all her strength before dealing with that roadblock.
Walking back to the windows, she gazed out onto the scene below. DJ Chac was still spinning, the crowd moving in sequence to the thumping bass.
“What the fuck happened?” Leigh asked aloud, as her eyes caught sight of a fridge placed opposite the windows.
She studied the gleaming stainless steel, thinking of the ice-cold water that must be inside. Opening the fridge, Leigh sighed audibly at the neat row of water bottles. She removed one, checking the seal. Satisfied, she drank it down before reaching for another. After several bottles of water, she felt the effects of the drug slowly fade. Tossing the empties away, her eyes fell to a canvas bag placed in the bottom of the fridge.
Studying the bag, she smiled. It reminded her of one of their camping sacks they took to Flagstaff. Her dad would take her and Rachel for weeks at a time. After her sister went missing, her father didn’t do much but take Leigh to the shooting range.
Rachel. She would see her soon, in the flesh!
She could still manage the hit on Chac and get the hell out of there. Leigh pulled the sack to her.
“Oof.” The bag fell with a thump to the floor. Leigh studied it’s outlines, stunned at the weight.
Her stomach emitted a hungry growl—she needed food. Maybe there was something inside. Reaching into the bag, she took hold of something rubbery and cold. Pulling it out, Leigh started.
The head was pale and colorless—the flesh frighteningly waxen in its appearance. Judging from the wounds inflicted on it, the fellow met his end by swift decapitation.
Leigh dropped it immediately. The head rolled to one side before coming to a halt. Opening the bag wider, she saw ten or so heads, all stacked on top of one another.
“What the fuck?” Leigh felt bile rising in her throat as she shoved the bag back into the fridge.
She needed to get out of there—job or no job. Thinking again about the security placed at her only exit, she knew what she had to do.
Leigh needed to call Guero.
She looked around the room—searching desperately for her purse. Running to the couch, she dug behind the cushions. Coming up empty, she sat down in a huff. Whoever had drugged her must have taken it—along with her gun.
Feeling defeated, she studied the lines of the metal coffee table before pausing. There was one last place to look. Her heart thudding, she bent down, spotting her discarded purse.
Crowing with delight, she searched the purse, realizing with a sinking feeling that her gun was missing. Without a weapon, she had no way of getting past those beefy bodyguards. Her hands began shaking as she fingered her cell phone—no service.
The situation was going from bad to worse. She needed a distraction—now. Walking toward the tinted windows, Leigh judged the drop to the dance floor. It was too high—she would break something.
“Fuck—get me out of here,” Leigh said aloud, frantically surveying the room.
Her eyes fell to the decapitated head, heart pounded as she stared out at the mass of people below her. Could this be the distraction she needed?
Walking over to the canvas bag, she tried to lift the bag.
“Fuck this is heavy.”
Struggling, she let it fall. Hands on her knees, she steadied her breathing.
“I have to do it,” Leigh said, encouraging herself. She took a deep breath, hands gripping the rough canvas. “Ok, three, two, one.”
Pulling with all her strength, she lifted the bag. Standing, she dropped it onto a nearby cart—her muscles burning from exertion. Slowly, she pushed the ghoulish contraption towards the windows—stopping a few feet away.
“That should do it,” Leigh said, judging the distance.
Looking at the sack dubiously, Leigh swallowed hard before turning towards the windows. She ran her hands along the slim glass. There had to be an opening, a place for her to access the dance floor below. But her fingers slid easily along the smooth surface. There was no way for her to execute her plan. Thinking of the Viagra on the coffee table, her heart began to pound. She wouldn’t sit here and wait.
She needed to move—fast.
Leigh studied her options, heart pounding as the seconds dragged on. She couldn’t go outside without some sort of distraction—she had no weapon and no backup. She felt numb, unable to will herself to take another step.
Hearing a sound behind her, she jumped. Perhaps someone was in the hallway? It was now or never; she had to make a move.
The music still blaring, she turned towards the metal cart. Could she push it through the glass window into the club below? Moving behind it, she heaved, pressing the metal against the darkened glass—bracing for impact.
The window heaved in response as Leigh threw the cart forward, bouncing back as it painfully connected with her abdomen.
“Fuck!” Leigh cried, throwing the cart aside.
She needed a way out—now. Whimpering softly to herself, she pressed her forehead against the glass, offering a silent prayer. Hands against the metal frame, she allowed her fingers to trace the sharp lines, her fingers catching on a slim metal latch. Leigh pulled away with a start, pulling the device up and back, elated when the window heaved to one side.
Leigh had all the impetus she needed now. Her heart hammered and her body shook with adrenaline. Taking the bag, she opened it, using every last ounce of energy in her body as she raised the canvas bag to the opening. Holding her breath, she tipped the contents over, swallowing hard as she felt the heads—slick like rubber balls, begin pummeling out of the bag.
Leigh felt her muscles strain as the heads bounced onto the dance floor below. Leaning over, Leigh watched as the last head fell—clocking a partygoer on the head before falling to the side.
She held herself fast, taking calming breaths. She felt woozy—off. A hand to her temple, she watched as the crowd turned to study the macabre offerings before piercing screams became audible over the music.
It was happening.
The crowd began to move in waves, people attempting to clamor over one another to escape the dance floor. Leigh sprinted over to the door, waiting several moments before the screams reached a fever pitch. This was it. Hand on the door handle, she waited a beat before opening it, heart pounding to the screams outside.
Taking a breath, she sighed audibly at the empty stairwell—the goons must have cleared out to assess the pandemonium in the club. Not stopping to think, Leigh dashed down the stairs, following a long corridor that led to two double doors. She pushed them open—finding herself on the main floor of the club. Her senses flooded from the blaring music as people struggled against one another to escape. Leigh sprinted into the melee, following the crowd of patrons in a mad dash towards the exit.
Sticking to the perimeter, she forced her way out, feeling that at any moment she would be surrounded and taken back in. But after a few quick seconds, the humidity and the enveloping darkness of the night sky greeted her. Trying desperately to catch her breath, she searched the streets, feeling her adrenaline kick into high gear.
Questions arose, one after the next. Who drugged her and why? Clearly, the job was a setup, or was it? Leigh was becoming known around Cancun. Would it be so far-fetched to consider that someone had taken the opportunity to take her out?
Something about it didn’t feel right, and now with the failed hit, she could kiss her reunion with Rachel goodbye.
Rachel.
How could Cavanaugh find her when her own boyfriend could not? It didn’t seem right. How had he failed her in this way?
Leigh pushed the feelings down; she wasn’t out of the woods. She needed to go home, wake up Guero, and have a chat. They would figure this out together, as they always did.
Hailing the first cab she saw, Leigh climbed inside, her hands shaking. She would tell Guero about the car later—maybe he could retrieve it tomorrow, after she begged him for forgiveness.
She felt guilt crashing down on her as the car sped toward the resort, holding her arms tightly to stop them from shaking. Guero knew, even if she didn’t, how risky the job was. He knew she would sleep it off. It would be just like him to wait until she had regained her senses.
How foolish she had been.
As the cab turned into the Sol II entryway, Leigh pieced together what had happened. Her head ached, and the nausea was back—at least this time she knew why. The bartender had drugged her, possibly at the direction of his horny friend. But was that their only goal?
It seemed to take ages to get inside the gates. By the time the cab pulled in, Leigh realized she had forgotten to grab her purse.
“Stay here, let me go get some money,” she said.
The cabdriver, purportedly used to blitzed young girls losing their wallets, nodded lazily. Leigh walked into the lobby of the hotel, her appearance throwing the staff into a tizzy.
“Would you please pay the cab?” she directed. “And I’ll need a room key.”
It’s nice to hold some kind of power, Leigh thought, as the resort staff hastily complied.
Dreading what came next, she made her way to their casita. As she drew closer, her heart began pounding. Guero would be beyond pissed with her little incident at the club—she had better think of a good distraction.
Opening the door, Leigh stepped inside. All the lights were on—the suite felt vacant.
“Guero?” she called out, walking cautiously inside, a knot in her throat.
Leigh did a quick survey of the suite, starting to panic.
Where was he?
“Baby?” she cried, running into the bedroom.
It didn’t take long to search the entire suite. Collapsing on the bed, Leigh thought back to the episode at the club.
“What if it wasn’t random?” she whispered, voice hoarse from lack of sleep. “What if someone was waiting for me?”
If that was the case, maybe they laid a trap for Guero as well?
“No, no, no,” she cried, clutching her knees tightly.
She sat there for several minutes, and at length her anxiety began to fade. Rising, she walked out on the patio. Looking up at the cloudless sky, Leigh realized the full extent of her actions.
The job was a lure—a trap, which she fell for hook, line, and sinker. Though she had put herself at risk, Leigh felt consumed with guilt over another reality, for she had let them take something more precious than life itself.
Leigh studied the skyline, the colors hinting at an early sunrise. In that dark moment, she felt her worst fears come to fruition.
Someone had kidnapped Guero.