21 Dares: A Florida Suspense Mystery (13 page)

“Gimme me the keys,” she said to Susan
through the glass. Susan looked up,
then
opened her
door. She climbed over the center console to the passenger seat as Abbie sat
down behind the wheel. “Not for nothin’,” Abbie said. “But I didn’t drink any
of the Pino Grigio.”

Susan shrugged. “Go for it, sister.” She
picked up the tiara and placed it on Abbie’s head. Abbie’s eyes narrowed. She
grabbed the tiara and pitched it out the open window.

“I’m done with being a birthday princess
tonight,” she said. She heard the plastic crown hit the pavement with a sharp
crack. Grinning at the possibility of it breaking in two, Abbie backed out of
the parking space. Her smile widened. She was certain she heard a satisfying
crunch as the left back tire crushed the sparkling plastic into fine, shiny
birthday dust.
 

She rolled-up the window as the Honda lunged
forward.

Something suddenly felt wrong. She looked at
the parked cars around her, at the shadows between them. Someone was out there,
watching them. She could feel it. Or maybe it was just her imagination. She
laughed at herself, then, for some reason, thought of Gareth the Goodhearted
Ghoul.
 

* * * *

As the blue Honda Civic, with the bright green Camero
tailing, pulled onto the street, a figure stepped around the corner of the
apartment building. Wearing a tan trench coat and brown hat, he paused in the
parking lot and watched two sets of taillights round the corner.

He held a notepad and pen, and jotted down
the time, make of the two vehicles and the direction they were headed. Before
he could finish, something in the parking lot caught his attention. It
glittered in the moonlight.

Walking to the spot where the roommate’s
Honda had just been parked, he knelt and studied the broken tiara. Using his
pen, he moved a plastic band away from the crown. Glistening letters spelled
the word “B-DAY GIRL.”
 

Turning his head south, he stood, holding the
broken tiara, and looked for the two cars. They were long gone now, headed
toward downtown Tampa.

Chapter 16

R
ocky and Abbie parked their respective cars in a
four-story parking garage a couple of blocks from the Riverwalk in down town
Tampa. The group left the garage and Abbie looked-up at the lit towers on the
horizon—the angled Sun Trust Financial Center, the peaked Regions Building and
the soaring Bank of America Plaza against the black sky.

“Have
you ever strolled down the Tampa Riverwalk?” Susan came up beside Abbie and put
an arm around her shoulder. Abbie shook her head. Susan shot her a smile.
“Well, lemme explain it to you.
If someone tries to pass you
on the boardwalk, speed-up and keep pace with them.”

“Why?”
Half listening, Abbie glanced at her watch. It was a quarter till seven.

“Cause
it really freaks their shizz out,” Susan said. “And nod at the people walking
toward you like you know them.”

They
made their way toward the winding sidewalk along the Hillsborough River.
Roughly a mile ahead, the river emptied into Tampa Bay and they strolled along
the riverbank, following a wooden plank path. Benches on either side had been
strategically placed to take advantage of the view. Lanterns lit the trees.
Strings of white lights wrapped around the street lamps. A man strummed a
guitar near the water. C
ouples of
all ages walked past, some walking dogs,
some
snapping
pictures. A man cast a fishing line over the white fence. It plopped in the
dark water with a splash.

Making
their way through the crowd, Susan and the twins asked random people to take a
photo with Abbie. There were two sailors, a group of high school boys, and some
girls celebrating a bachelorette party. Two cops riding Segways flirted with
Lindsey and Lindsay. A little later, the group knocked out eight photos with
various people standing in line at the Tampa Theater.

By
the time they reached The Sail Pavilion, Abbie had taken twenty-one photos with
random strangers. Abbie flipped through the pics on her phone as they continued
down the boardwalk. When they reached The Sail, Abbie looked up at the circular
waterfront bar
.
People
sat at tables under a pergola, in the open salt air. A live band played near
the bar. All around, from every direction, boat lights shimmered on the Bay. McKenzie
stopped Abbie before she took off for the restaurant.

“Wait,
you completed the dare,” McKenzie said.
A group of tourists looped past them as they followed the curve of the
sidewalk
. “Send the mission complete text message.”

“I’ll
do it inside.” Abbie took a couple of steps. McKenzie blocked her again.

Susan
came up beside them. “The next dare was McKenzie’s idea and she wants you to do
it before you go inside.”

McKenzie
waved toward the bright lights of the Sail Pavilion ahead. “You’re entering the
bar as a twenty-one year old woman,” she said. “That’s a big deal.”

“Fine.”
Abbie grabbed her phone and sent the
text message.

“This
is a milestone in your life.” McKenzie’s arms moved wildly as she spoke. “I
just want it to be memorable. You know, I still remember my twenty-first
birthday.”

Rocky
chuckled. “You mean the birthday you had last year?”

“It
was still a big deal.” McKenzie put her hands on her hips when her phone suddenly
beeped. Every phone went off at the same time. She glanced at her screen. “
It’s
dare seven.”

Abbie
looked down at her own phone.

Abbie
shot McKenzie a puzzled glance “Is that it? That’s the dare you came up with?”

“Well,
it wasn’t the only dare I came up with.” McKenzie pointed toward a young man
wearing a red vest and bow tie standing at a valet booth.

“I
don’t think he’s a bouncer,” Abbie said.

“Sure
he is.” McKenzie nudged her, pointing. “He’s going to ask for our IDs.”

Abbie
shook her head. “The bartender might, but that’s the valet.”

“Would
you just do it already?” McKenzie gently pushed her forward.

Abbie
took her ID out of her purse and crossed the parking lot for the Sail Pavilion,
headed toward the young man. He barely looked old enough to drive, much less
park cars. He smiled at Abbie with a mouth full of braces, and told her good
evening.

“I
don’t have a car,” she said slowly, twisting the unicorn pendant on her
necklace. “But I was wondering…”

“Applications
are inside.” He nodded at another couple passing by,
then
looked back at Abbie. “Ask the bartender.”

Abbie
held up her driver’s license. She handed it to him. He glanced at it, as she
asked him if they could take a picture together. “It’s my twenty-first birthday.

Begrudgingly,
he leaned in toward her, posing. Abbie held up her ID. McKenzie snapped the
photo.

Inside, Susan
and Abbie made their way to the large circular bar in the center of the
pavilion. People crowded around it, cheering and pointing toward a game on the
television set. Abbie pushed through as a new text message popped-up on her
phone. Abbie looked down at it.

“It’s
from the landlord,” she said. “Mr. Sherman wants us to stop texting him party
dares.”

“That old fart.”
Susan rolled her eyes.
“He probably doesn’t even remember his twenty-first birthday.” She leaned over
the bar and called for the bartender. She ordered drinks. Abbie put a hand on
her arm.

“You
really shouldn’t say that,” Abbie said. “It’s not that he’s old, he just
doesn’t want to go to a bar with a bunch of twenty-one year olds.”

The
bartender set a shot glass in front of Abbie and Susan. They stared at the yellow-tinted
drink with bright red salt around the rim. Abbie blinked.

The
bartender pointed toward McKenzie, Rocky, and the twins sitting at a recently
vacated table overlooking the Bay, away from the crush of cheering people
watching a game on the TV over the bar. The bartender scooted the drink toward
the girls. “They ordered this for you,” he said.

“What
is it?” Abbie stared at the brightly colored drink. As if on cue their cell
phones chirped. Abbie read the new text message out loud as Susan looked over
her shoulder.

“A
birthday cake shot?”Abbie looked up at Susan. Susan grinned.

“Guess
you
won’t be driving us home tonight.”
She picked-up the shot glass and headed to the table. “We’ll have to assign
another designated driver.”

Abbie
followed. Rocky, McKenzie and the twins were already seated. Abbie sat down
next to them. Despite the music, she could hear waves breaking on the shore
somewhere below them. She glanced out at the dark waters of the Bay,
then
looked at the drink. Rocky laughed.

“A
birthday cake shot. Excellent,” he said.

“I
don’t even know what that is.” Abbie couldn’t take her eyes off it. It looked
like cool-aid her grandmother would make on summer afternoons. Rocky leaned
toward her. His glasses fogged from the humidity.

“Somehow
the combination of a little vodka, sugar, and splash of Frangelico produces the
sensation of drinking a slice of
cake.”
He reached for the glass and slowly turned it, as if he was admiring the
swirling colors.

“That’s
delicious all by itself,” McKenzie added, leaning in closer to Rocky. “But the
real trick is to chase it down with a lemon wedge.”

Abbie
looked over at them, wondering if they were putting her on.

“We’ve
all done it. It’s a rite of passage.” Susan pushed the shot glass across the
table toward her. Abbie took the shot and sipped it. It left red salt on her
lips.

“You’ve
got to chug it,” Rocky said.

“And
you can’t use your hands.” McKenzie gently swiped Abbie’s hands off the table
as she spoke. “It’s the rules.”

Abbie
locked her arms behind her back and leaned over the table to grip the edge of
the shot glass with her mouth. Her necklace drooped down from her neck. The silver
unicorn landed on the table below her chin. With her hands behind her, she
lifted her neck, allowing the drink to splash into her mouth and down her
throat. When the glass was empty, she gripped it with her teeth and brought it back
down onto the table. Wiping her mouth with the back of her arm, she uttered, “Hot
Damn! That was just like drinking a slice of cake.”

McKenzie
clapped her hands. “You want another one?”

Everyone
laughed and Abbie sent the mission complete text. As she looked at her phone,
she brought up the photo of the valet. In it, she was posed next to him,
holding up her ID. She had a silly expression on her face. His head was tilted
down. He was clearly staring at her chest. Abbie laughed, and McKenzie and Susan
moved beside her.

“What’cha look’n at?”
Susan asked.

“Look
at my face.” Abbie pointed to the photo.

Susan
took the phone. “He’s check’n you out. You actually caught him looking at
your
… you know…”

“Ta
Tas
?” Lindsey offered.

Lindsay
leaned back and looked at her sister. “Are you in the fifth grade? Don’t say ta
tas.”

“Okay
then.” Lindsey glared at Lindsay. “Righteous jugs.”

“Free
thrills,” Abbie said, taking her phone back from Susan as McKenzie leaned in
close. Abbie swiped the photos across the screen.
She laughed at the picture with the high school boys, and Susan said
that she knew a couple of the sailors.

“You would,” McKenzie said, as they came to
the photo of the boys standing in line for the nightclub. “I went back, you
know, to get the numbers of a couple of those guys.”

Abbie looked at her, then over at Rocky. “McKenzie,
you’re engaged.”

“I got them for you, okay?” McKenzie set her
purse on the table and pulled out a couple of receipts with phone numbers
scribbled on them. “See, isn’t this fun?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Abbie looked at the
receipts. She considered setting them on fire and dropping them in her glass.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a candle on the table.

“I’m actually more surprised that
I’m
having a good time,” Susan said,
picking up a couple of the receipts and glancing at the numbers. She folded one
and slipped it into her jeans pocket. “Watching you do these dares is actually
pretty entertaining.”

Abbie started to say something then suddenly
stopped,
her brow furrowing as she stared at a photo. “Oh my
God,” she said under her breath,
then
spoke a little
louder.
“Oh my God.”

She
moved away from the table, taking her phone with her. Susan and McKenzie came
up beside her. “What’s wrong?”

Abbie
ignored the question, thumbing quickly through the photos on her phone, then swiped
back to the first one. It was a picture of her standing beside a random man.
The camera had caught a few people passing behind them.