REM // Van McCann

43. You're Not Steve

My mouth was dry so I drank water and I changed into a pair of jeans. I used the toilet and tried to look presentable but it was still apparent I just woke up and my eyes were red. According to Google Maps, Club Sapphire is only 20 minutes away. I tried calling her again but she didn't pick up so I decided to leave, making sure to grab a snack on the way out. I'm always hungry when stoned and it doesn't help when I've got nothing healthy to eat.

It wasn't until I sat behind the wheel of my car that I could feel the paranoia kick in. There's always something about leaving the safety of my flat that I become aware of everything and question my actions. I couldn't stop thinking about the parallels between right now and the night Clara got stranded in Liverpool. No matter how much I try to stop thinking about her, she's always on my mind. Always has and always will.

I started the engine and followed the directions Google Maps was telling me. I made sure to obey all the traffic rules driving exactly the speed limit and being sure to completely stop at four way stops. There aren't many cars on the road. Seattle isn't known for their nightlife life so if there are police hiding, I don't want to catch their attention.

Eventually, I made it and parked in the loading zone, not sure where I could find her. I called her phone again and looked out the window trying to see if I could find her. There were some people standing outside the entrance having a smoke and people on their way out. My call went to voicemail so I decided to put on my hazards and step out of the car.

Seattle isn't a dangerous city compared to others but when it's dark out, it doesn't feel safe. You just have to be aware of your surroundings and use common sense. I glanced around at the people outside hoping I'd spot her. The last thing I wanted was to go inside the club to find her.

She was nowhere to be found which made me recall the phone conversation we had. Who's Steve? The phone call was clearly not meant for me. Maybe she realized her mistake and called Steve and that's why she's not picking up. What if Steve took her home and I'm standing here for no reason? If only she'd answer her phone. I decided to text her.

I'm here. I'm outside and I don't see you. I'll wait for half an hour before heading back. If you're home, just let me know. I'm not upset or anything. I just wanna know you're okay.

I sighed and put my phone away. It was chilly out and I wanted to go back in my car but I was afraid she wouldn't be able to find me if I went back. The door opened and I watched a trio exit. They were definitely inebriated. One lass tripped over her heels while another one had her phone out.

"Our Uber will be here soon," she told her friends. The security guard standing outside overheard them and began talking to them.

"Just make sure you get in the right car," he warned them. "There was a woman who was waiting for her friend to pick her up and she got approached by someone saying he was her Uber. She didn't request an Uber."

The women thanked him for the warning, assuring him that they'd check the license plate before climbing in. However, there was something that made me curious who that woman was. She was waiting for a friend to pick her up.

"Who was that, by the way?" I asked the security guard. "Did her friend pick her up?"

"From my knowledge, she's still inside. She got cold but I told her I'd keep an eye out for her friend." He was eyeing me as if questioning if I was her friend.

"Is her name Florence Carter?" I asked. The man smiled, recognizing her name.

"Are you Steve?"

Under different circumstances, I'd find this situation funny but since she's still here and needs a way home, I decided to lie and say that was my name.