Identification.

 

My drunken buddy Sketch is at it again, that’s his nickname by the way. I guess it’s time to drag his sorry ass back home. Why does it always have to be me to do this crap? Preferably I’d like to just leave him here and get arrested, but that’s not in my nature. Especially when he starts harassing women, then I feel it’s my duty to step in.

                “Let’s go man, knock it off.” I rested my hand firmly on his shoulder. He was getting mouthy with a young party-girl whom from what I could tell, was actually sober.

                “Thank you so much!” The dark haired woman replied toward my efforts.

                “I know you! You’re bad! No good, yah hear me?” He shouted as I pulled him across the floor. I swear this place might as well start paying me as their bouncer.

                “Shut up Sketch.” I threw him in the car, and shut the door. I got in my side and started it up. Immediately I heard snoring. I sighed heavily. “Great.”

                I drove for what seemed like hours to his place. Fed up with his drunken outbursts, I wrote a note, tucked it in his pocket, and dumped him on his mom’s porch. He was 22, and at such a sad stage in life. Maybe she could help him out.

                As I got back inside my car, I realized I was missing something. I was missing my ID… son of a bitch. I drove 25 minutes back the bar to search for it. When I arrived, I saw that they had closed.

                “Damn it.” I turned away.

                “Looking for something?” A female voice called from the darkness.

                “Um… yeah, I think I left my ID in there.”

                “Oh, you’re Mr. Belrik, aren’t you?” she asked, stepping into the fluorescent white glow of the street lamp above us. It was the girl from the incident earlier.

                “Yes, how’d you know…?”

                She flipped out a card of her bra; I studied it in her small hand. I just noticed the smell of a cigarette, which she was holding in the opposite. The smell of nicotine and menthol permeated the air, reminding me of memories of my long-forgotten teenage years. It was my ID.

                “I found it on the floor after you left with that drunken irate man.” She handed the ID over to me, I took it and slipped it back into my wallet; where I made the mental note to duct tape it later.

                “Thanks... um…” I trailed off, not knowing her name. She smiled.

                “Nikki.”

                “Yes, thank you Nikki. I appreciate it.”

                “No problem, anything to help.” She seemed very polite, which made me think more of the female species on this Earth. The last woman I spoke to spit in my face and walked off. I haven’t seen her since. No harm done to me really. Nikki, whom I presumed her full name, was Nicole, started to walk off in the opposite direction. I got into my car and stopped off for something to eat before I went home. I went through the nearest McDonald’s and grabbed a bite to eat. Sitting in the parking lot I noticed the same girl who’d returned my ID waiting for a bus. As far as I knew, the bus had had its last run an hour ago, as it was 1:30 am.

                When I finished up eating and she was still sitting there, looking a little lonely, I pulled up, to return a good deed.

                “Need a ride somewhere?” I rolled down the passenger side window, to look at her. She blinked, looking confused.

                “Oh, me? Well… not really.” She looked down the street as if banking on the bus getting here at any moment. I smiled at her innocent modesty.

                “It’s cold out, and you have to be freezing. Whether the bus is coming or not, hop in. I’ll take you wherever you need to go.” I kind of felt her feelings. She probably thinks I’m some crazy stalker now. Perfect Drake, because every woman wants a stalker for a man. Not like I was trying to pick up on her, but I mean, what else would a man usually want at this time in the morning on a Friday night?

                For several more moments it seemed like she was wrestling with a dilemma. Soon she caved and slowly got in the passenger side of my car. She shivered violently, I turned up the heat.

                “So where to?” I asked, sounding like a taxi cab driver.

                She bit her lip and handed me a small piece of paper with an address scrawled on it. It was a few miles away from here, near my place, but father back from town. Then I realized something as I handed it back to her.

                “Your hair is different.” I pointed out. She seemed surprised that I noticed this.

                “What? Oh… yeah, that was a wig. I put it on when I go to drunken public places. So no one can identify me.” She laughed nervously. It went from being dark and wavy to long, straight, and light blonde. Her eyes were a very pale blue, almost electric under stark white light. I figured she didn’t want to talk about that so I let it drop.

                It was silent for most of the car ride. I didn’t want to make it seem like I was being pushy about who she was. Or why she was sitting at a bus stop, alone, at 2 am. I wondered about that, but it was really none of my business.

                When we arrived at her destination, she smiled and thanked me, then stepped slowly out of the car. I did my best to not act like some type of creep, telling her to keep safe and have a good evening. She smiled warmly as she turned away and walked up the pathway to her home. From a quick glance, I saw that no lights were on. I presumed she must live alone.

                I started to drive away when I heard a loud noise, it sounded like glass shattering. A robbery maybe? I pulled my car over and strained my ears to hear. With an icy realization that chilled my blood, I figured out it was not a break in. I heard a muffled scream and more thuds. I warred with my decision to return to Nicole’s home and check on her, to make sure everything was okay. Several seconds passed as I bit my lip. I didn’t want to seem like stalker, but I was concerned on whether or not those relatively dangerous and potentially deadly sounds were coming from her and her home.

                Finally deciding to back up a few feet, I eyed her home. It was still black inside, which almost barely confirmed my suspicions. But who was I to say anything? Maybe she had immediately gone to bed once she got inside. However, in the condition that she left my car, which was pretty keyed up, I doubt she’d been going to sleep anytime soon. Then just as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, brake lights on a car in her driveway lit up.

                Now I was pretty sure when I’d seen the car pull out, she was not the one driving. I also happened to notice the front door to her home completely left ajar. Shit…