Nine Marines' Shared Property - Nicole Casey Page 0,45

SUV and headed out to pick up Manny and Nolan.

“You can start explaining,” said J.P.

The truth was that I didn’t have anything to explain. Gwen wasn’t answering her phone. I didn’t know where she was, exactly, or why she had left. But I didn’t want to try and convince them how worried Christy and especially Holly sounded. I figured it would be best to explain once we were well on our way, in case anyone tried to dismiss my concerns with a ‘you’re blowing this all out of proportion’ or ‘she probably had a family emergency’ or ‘I’m sure she’s all right’.

We couldn’t afford the risk of wishful thinking.

“Let’s pick up Manny and Nolan, first,” I said. “I want us all together when I explain the situation.”

We were headed to Los Angeles, all nine of us. It should have been a two-hour drive, but Santiago had no qualms about speeding.

“What’s going on, Taylor?” said J.P. again, with more urgency to his question now. “What’s happened to Gwen?”

“She’s not answering her phone,” I said.

“And that’s reason enough to drive out to Los Angeles in the middle of the night?” said Elijah.

“Trust me,” I said.

“We trust you,” said J.P. “We just want to know what’s going on.”

My phone rang. It was Holly.

“I’ve just spoken to Gwen.”

“Oh, thank God,” I said. “Is she OK?”

“Why don’t you ask Axel,” she replied. This time there wasn’t worry in her voice, but anger, and lots of it.

“Axel?” I said to her. Axel turned his head to me. His eyes were wide open and he looked confused.

“I’ve got to go,” said Holly angrily. “Goodbye.”

“Wait.”

She hung up.

“Why did you say my name?” asked Axel.

Confusion and worry mixed with the speed of the road and the tight confines of the SUV. We were a tight-knit group, but that didn’t mean we never had our arguments.

“What the fuck is going on, Axel!?” I said

“You tell me!” he replied.

Axel was in the seat in front of me and out of arms’ reach. Good thing, because I would have grabbed him and wrung his neck for answers.

Eventually, cooler heads prevailed—those being Travis and Manny. I explained the short and strange conversation I’d had just then with Holly. Axel had no explanation, not even a guess as to what it could mean. I gave him Holly’s number and he called her.

“Holly, this is Axel.”

He furrowed his brow as the voice on the other end of the line was unclear but loud.

“What are you talking about?” Axel, too, raised his voice.

The distorted voice on the other end of the line barked back. Everyone kept silent and listened.

“What!?” said Axel. “That was my sister!”

We all looked at each other, but nobody said a word.

“She was cold,” continued Axel, loudly and defensively. “I gave her my jacket! What the fu— You can’t be serious.” Axel hung up then punched the seat in front of him.

It all came down to a misunderstanding or a lack of communication, though perhaps that was just a symptom and not the true cause. In any event, we didn’t have time to take a deep dive into the question. We needed to find Gwen, explain the misunderstanding, kiss and make up then drive back to the base.

While Santiago sped down the highway, I called Holly back.

“I know,” she said. “Axel explained it to me.”

“But Gwen’s not picking up when we try to call her. Can you call her for us?”

“I’ve tried!” Holly yelled and I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “Look,” she said more calmly, “I only spoke to her for a minute. She was angry and hurt. She didn’t quite sound like herself.”

“What does that mean?”

She shouted into the phone again. “She was angry and hurt and at a bar! What do you think that means?”

“OK,” I said. “We’re headed there now.”

“If you don’t find her,” she said, “ask for a guy named Michael. He’s the manager.”

“OK.”

“And he’s also her ex-boyfriend.”

“Damn. Why didn’t she call us when she saw Axel with his sister? We could have cleared this up on the spot.”

“Well, you guys haven’t been exactly great communicators either!” Holly spat back.

“You’re right,” I said. “We’re driving there, now. We should be there in about an hour.”

“Forty-five minutes,” Santiago interjected.

“Will you keep trying to reach her?” I asked.

“Yes.” She sighed. “I’ve got to go, now. Good luck.”

Even though it was almost midnight, traffic was a mess when we hit Los Angeles. It took us over an hour to get to Tree Top. Fortunately, the place had