Being Butch Green || ✓

Chapter 31 - The Drunk and Disorderly

She glanced between us, still sceptical of my ability to not pass out and drop to the floor like a dead fly.

"You two aren't having a lover's quarrel, are you?"

"What!?" Hailey exclaimed hastily. "Oh god no!"

"Ahuh, I see. Let's find him then," Constance said, eyeing us off as though we'd just told a major lie. She took a swig of her cocktail before clapping her hands assertively, trotting her way up onto the stage and raising her voice. "Has anyone seen my Henry?"

The room fell silent. A pin could have been dropped and even the mosquito buzzing around my ear would've heard it. "Annnnybody?" The silence remained, thick like ice. "So, nobody knows where Henry is?"

"Maybe he went outside?" somebody suggested.

"Marilla, honey, Henry isn't an outside person," Constance scoffed, before sighing. "We have a problem on our hands. Everybody spread out and find me Henry!"

The floor broke apart like Moses and his Red Sea. The unified wardrobe of glitter scuttled out across the floor as they disappeared behind tables and doors, softly calling Henry's name. Their voices reminded me of rabbits and the feeling of needing to touch something calming and fluffy, like fragile teacups in the spring.

"Don't worry, they'll find him," Hailey said, patting my shoulder reassuringly. A pat? Seriously? We made out and all she could do was pat my shoulder? I began pacing, waiting for the moment the Houdini Henry appeared out of thin air and this awkward situation disappeared.

"Where the hell is he?" I muttered, getting more agitated.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything," I replied hastily, rubbing my forehead.

"Here, sit," she said, somehow grabbing my wrist and dragging me to a chair. Her slender hands moved to my shoulders and she forcefully pressed me down. My body complied, falling into a skanky metal chair that was awfully uncomfortable.

"This whole stupid thing is all my fault," I whined, burying my face in my hands. "I should've just taken the jail time."

"Stop it. This isn't your fault. You're a seventeen-year-old kid sent to geotag a building the police can't seem to find themselves."

I perked up. "How-how did you know that? That's–"

"Classified info? Yeah, I kinda read the file," she pouted in thought as she knelt.

"Damn it," I muttered. Didn't she know this stuff could get her killed? "How much do you know?"

She paused. "I know what they do."

She was about to continue her riveting account of the information she knew when a phone buzzed. She sighed as we both turned to gaze at her pocket as it vibrated like it had little electronic currents pulsing through it.

"Is that...my phone?" I tentatively quizzed her, pointing at the pocket.

She bit her lip then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. I, um, I charged it for you."

I nodded, waving the phone into my grasp. "Give it here."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the device, handing it reluctantly over to me. Turning my thoughts away from her peculiar behaviour, I glanced at the caller ID and swiped immediately.

"Martin?"

"Oh, thank god! Look, I don't have much time, but you need to get to Galgort now. Buller and Haynes, they're in on it."

"In on what?"

"Galgort."

"They're in on Galgort?"