suspiciously at each other. Before either could utter a word, a beautiful young Asian woman in a sexy, short black dress and strappy high-heeled shoes opened the door to one of the stalls. She stepped out, carefully dabbing her eyes with a piece of toilet paper, as if she was trying not to ruin her considerable eye makeup.
“Are you okay?” Emily stepped close and asked her in a calm, sympathetic tone.
Her eyes were lowered and she seemed reluctant to meet Emily’s gaze. Before the young woman could respond, another Asian woman, this one middle-aged and wearing a khaki pantsuit and an angry expression, shouted something curt to the younger female in their native language. The young lady nodded her head, as if she was agreeing to the woman’s harsh words. The older woman grabbed the girl by the arm and practically dragged her out of the bathroom, continuing the tongue-lashing.
“What on earth was that about?” a wide-eyed Molly questioned.
“I have no idea.” Emily shrugged.
“Looks like that girl was in trouble with her mother.”
“Could be,” Emily muttered, looking toward the door before turning to the sink to wash her hands. “I remember one time my mom caught me dressed like that. I had snuck out on a date with an older boy that my folks didn’t approve of.” Emily grabbed a couple of paper towels and dried her hands. “My mom marched right out onto the dance floor and grabbed me by the arm. Then she dragged me out to the car. She and my dad grounded me for a month.”
“How old were you?” Molly asked.
“Fifteen.”
“Well, that girl was a lot older than that,” Molly commented. “She looked at least eighteen or nineteen to me.”
“I don’t think so. She was wobbling on those heels like she wasn’t used to wearing them. And that sexy dress and all that make up could make any teenage girl look older.”
“I’d hate to be the guy she was with if my mom had caught me doing that.”
“You’re right,” Emily laughed. “Camille would rip him a new one, not to mention what your dad would do to him.”
~*~
A few days later, Molly phoned Emily and asked if she’d go shopping with her. Camille’s birthday was coming up and Molly wanted help to find a gift for her mom.
“Why don’t I pick you up tomorrow after you get home from school, say four o’clock, and we’ll head for the mall,” Emily suggested. “We can get something to eat at the food court—my treat.”
“Sounds cool. See you at four.”
As promised, Emily stopped by to collect Molly for their shopping date. Rather than Emily driving, Molly insisted they take her new car. Her dad had just bought her a small, economical late-model compact to drive to school. She no longer had to take the bus for her senior year, and she was happy to show it off.
“Okay, okay. Let’s take your car.” Emily gave in, remembering what it had been like to be seventeen and the thrill of freedom she experienced at having her own vehicle.
As they drove through the neighborhood, an older silver Mercedes began backing down its driveway and into the street.
“Watch out for the car backing out,” Emily warned, instinctively putting her hand out.
“Don’t worry, I see it.” Molly slowed down, almost to a stop, and the other car drove past them in the opposite direction.
“Did you see that?” Molly snapped.
“See what?” Emily looked around.
“The car that backed out.”
“It was a family in it, wasn’t it?”
“I mean the girl in the backseat. Did you see the girl in the backseat? The one closest to the window—she had these sad, dark eyes.” Molly’s words came with growing intensity. “I think I know her.”
“I’m not surprised, she’s your neighbor.”
“No, Emily, I think it was the girl from the restroom at the hotel—the one that was crying.”
“Are you sure?” Emily twisted in her seat and looked for the car, but it was too far away, so she turned back forward. “She probably goes to your school, don’t you think?”
“I haven’t seen her there, but I’m sure she’s the girl from the hotel. Oh, Em, she looked so sad.”
“Maybe her parents grounded her for life because of her little stunt. I’d be sad, too.”
“Or worse. What if they beat her?”
“There’s no reason to think that, Molly.”
“What if they’re not her parents? What if they kidnapped her and are holding her against her will?”
“Where are you getting those outlandish thoughts? You’re letting your imagination run wild.”