Free Head Case by Jennifer Oko Page A

environment, said he was actually charmed by the response, and then offered to get her a fresh drink from the bar.
    God, it irritates me even now to think about that night, about the way Polly was giggling and swooning over Mitya when he returned to his booth, the way she was moving her hips when she danced in that clinging damp shirt, the way she completely disappeared on me when it was time to go home.
    I spent almost half an hour looking for her. I tried to call, but there was no way she could hear her phone ring. I left a message that I was ready to leave and then returned to the purple-lit ladies’ room, poking my head under the doors of the bathroom stalls, placing my face much closer to the wet tiled floor than I would have preferred. “Polly?” I asked three different times to three different pairs of high-heeled shoes. Finally I left the bathroom and pushed myself through throngs of sweaty dancers, getting elbowed and dripped upon as I maneuvered across the main dance floor, just in case she had boogied her way out there.
    In the middle of the floor, I saw a woman dressed in a sheer blue tank top, and reached out to tap her shoulder. “Polly?” I shouted over the music, but she didn’t even have to turn around before I realized it wasn’t her. Frustrated, I figured I might try to get one more drink, buy Polly a little more time to show up and give me a little relief, but unlike our normal wait-staffed hangout in the VIP lounge, people on the main floor were packed three to the bar.
    “Fuck it.” I spun around to return to our exclusive corner of the club, where I’d left my purse.
    Suddenly, I felt a cold liquid splash across my chest.
    “Hey!” I said, but the beefy guy whose beer was being absorbed by my shirt hardly registered what he’d done.
    “Hey, Tom!” he called to someone ahead of him, holding the half-empty glass over his head. “Get me another one, would you?” Then he walked away without even acknowledging me. Not only was my white top now transparent, apparently I was, too. There couldn’t have been a stronger signal that it was time to leave.
    I sighed and took a moment to prepare myself before elbowing my way back across the dance floor. Once through, I passed the snaking line for the bathroom and skulked over to the VIP lounge.
    The bouncer with control of the velvet rope sized me up and down.
    “Are you going to let me in?” I asked, crossing my arms over my breasts.
    “Nice shirt,” he said, reluctantly unhooking the latch. “Where’s your friend?”
    “Some friend,” I muttered as he let me pass.
    Lillianne was still curled up at a booth in the back, just where I’d left her, deeply engrossed, to put it nicely, with the subject of the next round of gossip for the tabloids. It was too dark to tell who he or she was, but I was sure I would be able to find out soon enough if I wanted to. Vivian Ward and a few other familiar faces were also at a table in the corner.
    “Hey, Olivia,” she said, making an obvious show of looking over my shoulder. “Where’s Polly?”
    “Quick, Viv!” Adam Fald snorted audibly, one of his carefully manicured dreadlocks flopping into his eyes. “You better take something. God knows how many calories are in that martini you have.”
    “Fuck you, Adam,” Vivian said. “You were the one who was just looking for her.”
    “Guilty as charged.” He bowed his head with great exaggeration and then popped it back up. “So, where is she? Where’s Polly? Where’s her magical bag of tricks?”
    I stood there, waiting to see if anyone would scoot over, make some room at the table, waiting to see if anyone would even take notice that my shirt was soaked through.
    “So, you haven’t seen her?” Vivian asked, finally acknowledging me.
    “No,” I said, “I haven’t.” I didn’t bother to tell them that even if I had seen her, there were hardly any drugs left in her bag. We couldn’t take enough imperceptible amounts from her dad’s