BANE OF HIS EXISTENCE

Chapter 11: ANDREW?

DREW.

After what felt like an eternity of aimless driving and frantic phone calls to people I never thought I'd reach out to, I finally stumbled upon the elusive "Pops Parlor". The establishment was a far cry from the seedy dives I'd imagined, instead exuding a charming, laid-back vibe. By day, it masqueraded as a quaint bar, but as night descended, it transformed into a risqué strip club, notorious for its scandalous allure. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I, of all people, had ended up in the infamous Game's Village, hot on the heels of a furious Maya. The morning's events had unfolded like a surreal dream, and I was still struggling to process the reality of it all.

As I glanced at the clock, the neon digits glowing brightly in the dimly lit room, I noted the time: 7:35 pm. It wouldn't be long before the evening crowd descended upon Pops Parlor, eager to indulge in the night's revelries. I, for one, had no desire to stick around and become a part of the establishment's notorious nightlife. As the son of a two-time governor, my presence here was already a liability; being seen alone in such a seedy setting was a PR nightmare waiting to happen.

I made my way through the smoky air, navigating towards the bar where Maya sat, her voice rising in a heated argument with the bartender. "I'm almost twenty years old, for crying out loud!" she exclaimed, her words slurred slightly from the obvious effects of alcohol.

"I'm an adult, capable of handling my own drinks!" The bartender, a gruff-looking man with a thick beard, stood firm, his arms crossed over his chest. "Sorry, sweetheart, but you're cut off. You've had enough for tonight."

The bartender, a grizzled veteran of countless similar altercations, remained unmoved by Maya's threats, his expression a mask of indifference. But when she started ranting about reporting him to his boss, I decided it was time to intervene before things escalated further. I dropped a few bills on the counter, muttering a hasty "Sorry about her" as I made my way towards Maya.

She looked up at me, her eyes glassy and unfocused, and exclaimed, "Whoa! Is that you? Nope! I must be seeing things, you're not here!"

She tried to stand up, but her legs buckled beneath her, and she stumbled. I rushed to catch her, wrapping my arms around her waist to steady her. How drunk is this girl? I wondered, taken aback by the sheer magnitude of her intoxication.

As I held her upright, Maya gazed up at me, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to focus. "What are you doing here?" she slurred, her words barely intelligible. I sighed inwardly, wondering how I was going to get her out of this place without making a scene.

I muttered under my breath, "To get you, obviously," the words barely audible even to myself. Maya stumbled towards the exit, her legs wobbly and uncoordinated, and asked, "How did you find me, Drew?" I raised an eyebrow, amused by the slip-up. Maya never called me Drew, not even by mistake. It was a term of endearment she reserved for...well, no one, actually.

As we stepped outside into the cool evening air, Maya giggled and made funny faces at passersby who stared at her in concern. I smiled, relieved that the alcohol hadn't completely extinguished her cheeky spark.

"Okay, that's enough!" I said, laughing, as I led her towards my car. "Come on, let me take you home."

But Maya resisted, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination. "N-no home!" she slurred, shaking her head vigorously. "They worry." Her words were laced with a deep-seated anxiety, and I frowned, wondering what she meant. Who would worry about her? And what were they worried about?