He pauses, considers May’s floppy form, and then reaches down and grabs a dripping bottle of water, which he plops onto the bar in front of him. “That’ll be seven dollars.”
I stare at him for a beat, because excuse me—you have got to be kidding with that price. But I don’t have much of a choice, so I grumble and dig into my pockets for a ten-dollar bill.
As the bartender hands me a paltry amount of change, he says, “Dude, just so you know, management doesn’t look kindly on drugs in the club,” and shoots a look at May that’s supposed to, I assume, convey all this meaning.
“She’s not on drugs, man.”
He cocks an eyebrow and smirks. He clearly doesn’t believe me, but he also obviously doesn’t really care, because a second later he turns to get the order of the girl next to me and starts flirting hard-core with her.
I grit my teeth and turn back to May, holding out the bottle. “Can you drink this?”
She’s still silent. Her eyelids flutter in a strange arrhythmic way. A few moments go by, and she looks worse and worse. Her whole body is shaking, and I have to help keep her propped on the stool. She really needs to drink this water.
“May!” I yell her name just as the Worst Band in the World plays the final note of their set and quiet falls over the bar. A bunch of people turn around, but for once there’s something I care about more than my pride. Still, when I start speaking again, I lower my voice. “Hey, drink this, okay?” I crack the top and shove the bottle into her hands. “I opened it for you.”
She takes a tiny sip.
“Good. Keep drinking. You okay?”
She slowly drinks the water, taking tiny sip after tiny sip. After many minutes, the color in her face is more human than ghost, but she’s still silent. She shakes her head.
“What do you want to do? Do you want to stay here? I think Conor and them are about to go on.” She shakes her head even harder. I don’t know what to do. I’m not letting her leave the club alone. I tug at the ends of my hair and decide. “Okay, let’s go.”
She looks like she’s surprised that I’m going with her.
“Is that cool? If I leave with you?” I’m trying to come up with a polite way to tell her that I don’t think it’s a great idea for her to leave alone, when she nods.
“Okay, cool. Can you…can you walk on your own now?”
She nods again.
“Great. All right, let’s go.” I motion for her to lead the way. I don’t want to let her out of my sight. The color has almost returned to her face now, but I don’t want to take a risk.
We slowly make our way out of the club and into the warm night air. I look up and down the street, trying to figure out where the hell to go. I’ve spent about two hours total of my life in downtown LA, so to say I don’t know my way around would be a massive understatement. The block is empty, save for a few homeless people sitting next to shopping carts down near the other end of the street. There’s a shady bar next door. The blue awning over its entrance is ripped and dirty. I make eye contact with the guy sitting on a stool next to its doorway and he glares back.
I turn to May. She’s behind me, shuffling her feet. Under the light of the streetlamp, she’s…hot.
Jesus, what is wrong with me?
I kick myself for having such a lame thought while she’s standing there miserable. I’m a jerk. What I meant to think is that she looks okay, like almost normal again.
“Where do you want to go?” My ears are ringing from the noise of the club, and my voice comes out much louder than I intend.