The Party

"She was the last one in the hot tub." Donovan said.
"And it couldn't be anything else. It just had to be fate."
"I know you're mocking me but yes." He said holding his wine glass near his cheek, "She was the last one in the hot tub."

It had happened so gradually that Sarah had barely realised. Donovan stopped shouting at the cat when it approached him and he cleaned the dishes in the sink when it was full. He was patiently waiting, cleaning up after himself and engaging in amiable small talk. He was quiet and polite and on occasion would wear her slippers. Sarah didn't say anything regarding the contact she had promised to make. The conversation in which she had failed to make anything happen. Sarah realised that until she told Donovan something significant about the woman he was searching for she had a roommate. For the most part it was less of a burden than she had expected. She almost appreciated the company.

"And this was the first time you saw her after the..." Sarah trailed off. The first time Donovan had met Her had been a hit and run according to the police. The security force took no interest in what they termed 'an accident'. The Quadrangle was designed to protect people from outside forces and a petty road traffic accident slipped under their radar. Luckily the media had also ignored the incident and Donovan managed to escape the incident unscathed by the law and by society.

The police investigation studied the footage from the street but the cameras didn't provide a clear angle on the incident. Aside from Donovan's statement there was nothing to investigate. Donovan said nothing further about the woman, other than that she bolted. The details he provided concerning her appearance were vague at best. He wasn't asked anything further. His father made a discreet payment to the family of the deceased man. He was under the impression that Donovan was at least partially responsible. Donovan remained oblivious of his generosity. The incident gradually faded from memory and was never mentioned by father or son.

In the following months Donovan found a new lease of life. He said yes to every opportunity his friends formulated. Raucous weekends on the continent, drag racing by the docks in their sports cars, taking drugs and irritating the patrons of the members only clubs in the Quadrangle. Whether this was directly connected with his recent experience or it just happened to be an idle summer in which he had no job or anywhere to be were negligible and barely dwelt upon.

It was Tristan's birthday blowout balls-stravaganza and Donovan found himself sitting on a sofa in a penthouse suite in a lavish hotel based in the Quadrangle. It was a late evening and there had been a bar and restaurant beforehand which he was certain they couldn't go back to but could not recall why.

A bunch of girls had been called and told to wait in the hot-tub in their underwear. Donovan drew the short straw and was last in the queue therefore having no choice. He would be responsible for taking up the leftovers. Upon approaching the hot tub one was presented with a bevy of girls holding champagne flutes, their feet dangling in the bubbles as they sat on the edge. Taut stomachs and big bosoms, all smiles. The other men had seen a skeletal drawn out woman with sunken cheeks and grey eyes avoiding their gaze. Unsurprisingly the buxom blondes and busty brunettes surrounding her were swiftly selected and led away.

Donovan didn't recognise her in the first instance but rather than feeling disappointed by the runt of the litter he was delighted by the girl with bubblegum pink curls and a devilish smile.
"Good evening mister." She had said in her low husky tone. Donovan was besotted.

He admitted to Sarah he had been very high. The scar on her neck was covered by a black lace choker but he vaguely recognised the shape of her mouth and the scent of her skin. He had jolted as the recollection of their first encounter flooded back to him in an alcohol infused haze. She had stroked his chest and exhaled next deeply next to his ear. The memory of leather car seats and static on the radio flashed through his mind. He didn't feel fear or regret, instead She felt familiar and intoxicating. His brief brush with danger had been an adrenaline boost rather than a trauma.

"I don't doubt that." Sarah said with a strained smile as he waxed lyrical about Her undeniable magnetism.
"I need to see her." Donovan said as he refilled his glass holding the neck of the wine bottle unsteadily.
"I know you do." Sarah agreed but sounded incredibly fatigued, she leant forward and took the bottle from him to place it back on the coffee table. She had half filled her glass and barely drank any. The bottle was now empty.
"I miss her." He said, his voice higher than he had anticipated. His body furled into itself, his limbs shifting toward his stomach. Sarah sat opposite him silently.

When Donovan had mentioned it had been 'Tristan's' birthday party and he had ordered the girls Sarah vaguely recalled the story from Her perspective. She had mentioned the penthouse and the hot tub with the other girls. She had been coy about the details and had not mentioned any of the salacious details of the job therefore Sarah was unaware that Donovan had been there.

One of the five girls had dropped out at the last minute and for one night only 'Candy' took her place. The wig had fitted the theme but She had looked disdainful even before she left. Sarah had done her best to daub her in enough make-up to make her look less than exhumed corpse. It was early days and She was suffering from withdrawal. The suite had four bedrooms with king-size beds which shared two en-suites. Donovan had been relegated to having sex in the living area and sleeping on the large corner sofa. She had described the living area briefly as being a room made of windows.

She adjusted her pink wig as Donovan snored gently on the floor with a towel covering his hips and a dazed smile on his face. She propped a cushion under his head before strolling toward the bedrooms. She explored the suite and found Tristan in the final room she pressed her ear to. He was still busy it would seem but She stumbled into the room and acted as if this was accidental. It hadn't mattered to Tristan and She had joined the pair and spent the night with them.

Tristan's balls-stravaganza, as it was known, lasted three more days and ended when Tristan was found in a hotel room unconscious from a drug overdose. Donovan had been sleeping off his hangover elsewhere when it happened. He found out via a news bulletin on the television the day after the fact. Donovan didn't seem to connect the events nor had he seemed aware that his (brief) night of passion had been followed by another encounter.

Sarah sipped her wine and remained quiet. She had learnt that Donovan would grasp what he wanted with both hands, he rarely let sorrow or regret enter his mind. He was a child distracted by delight and unaware of danger. She envied his conviction and focus. He had burrowed his way into her apartment and into her life and she had let him. As he curled into a ball on her sofa with his wine glass she wondered how long this could last, how long he would last. His eyes squeezed shut as his arms folded around one of the throw cushions embedded against his stomach.

"Donovan?" Sarah said softly.
His eyes remained closed, his lips pressed together but no intelligible sound was produced.
"What's going to happen?" She asked him, "What do you think is going to happen if you find her?"
"She was the last one in the hot tub." He mumbled quietly, his wine glass clattered to the floor.
Sarah swore and grabbed the glass from the floor and hurried into the kitchen to grab some paper towels. She returned to mop up the deep red spillage creeping across her expensive rug.

Sarah looked at Donovan wearily as she rose to her feet. He was sleeping gently with a rumpled forehead. She tugged the throw from the back of the sofa to cover him and walked away.

Donovan awoke in the morning aching and sore in several uncomfortable places. The muscles in his neck clicked loudly as he shifted on the sofa. He couldn't remember falling asleep but he found he was still fully dressed in yesterday's clothes and he smelt of body odour and wine. Sarah was busy in the kitchen, the kettle was boiling and she was obnoxiously rattling glasses and shifting saucepans.

Donovan rolled off the sofa onto the floor and groaned loudly. She looked over her shoulder to see a mound of haphazard blonde hair bobbing behind her sofa. Donovan approached Sarah in the kitchen with the intention of obtaining a glass of water but intercepted him before he could reach the sink and shoved something crumpled and damp into his hands. It was a small scrap of paper covered with greasy fingerprints and scrawled handwriting entitled 'Bitch List'.

Under Sarah's bed there was a small lock-box and inside was several gun cartridges, a small stack of gold bullion and a pearl necklace. Donovan was groggy and barely noticed when she gave it to him. He couldn't get past her and she was blocking the sink. He looked helplessly as he was denied the prospect of sticking his head in the drum and running cold water over his scalp. Sarah immediately realised that this was a terrible idea but this was all she had.

"I can't help you." She said firmly, "But I think this might." He felt a sharp jab in his gut as she pressed her fingers under his rib-cage the scrap of paper unfurled precariously.
He grasped the paper and looked down to observe it.
It was a list of names followed by addresses crammed underneath in miniscule scrawl.

"It's in case of an emergency and..." Sarah looked at the scrap and paper and considered snatching it away from him and ripping it into tiny pieces. Donovan stood dumbfounded glancing at the paper and then at her. His hangover was severely delaying his cognitive skills.
"They are people who might be able to help." She said reassuringly taking a step back.

He remained silent and studied the paper intently trying to decipher the meaning of the random hieroglyphics in black ink presented to him. He looked at her again and back at the paper and then clutched his forehead and laughed inadvertently.
Sarah threw her hands up in exasperation and walked away. "You're welcome." She said slamming her bedroom door.