The Professional Alibi

Chapter 3: The Call of the Unknown

It's nearly two in the morning before I return to my dorm room after spending the evening with Mom and Dad before they return back to their respective transports.

The twinkle lights on the ceiling hanging over my bed illuminates mine and Keeley's room. My bed sits against the wall to the left of our room, covered in a white duvet, striped sheets, and a tan fuzzy throw pillow centered over the pillows of my made bed. Pictures of me, Jesse, Keeley, and several other kids from school, cover the wall above my bed. On the floor, a couple of half-packed boxes lay open with memorabilia already tucked inside.

On the right of the room, Keeley's unmade hot pink and sunshine yellow-themed bed is still empty. Dishes from this morning's breakfast are still on her side table, clothes are strewn on the bed, and all six pairs of heels she tried on before she settled on her black strappy ones cover the floor around the tall mirror next to her desk.

Huh. The graduation party must've been a doozie.

I fold the graduation gown I'd left her earlier, and put it in one of the boxes. As I do, I consider texting her but decide better of it. Maybe she hooked up with someone on her last day before leaving. One last hurrah.

I may still be a virgin, despite Jesse's pleas over the years, but that doesn't mean I'll judge Keeley for being otherwise.

My eyes seem to gravitate to the invitation resting under my diploma. Crappy hiding place, I know, but with Mom and Dad looking over my shoulder from the doorway, I didn't have many options.

My fingers tap on my thighs for a solid thirty seconds before the anticipation builds inside me and I break, practically running across the room to the diploma and yanking the invitation from its hiding spot. My heart pounds as I unfold the letter again, re-reading what I've already memorized.

I pull my cell phone from my back pocket and dial the number. They probably won't answer. It's two thirty in the morning, but I may literally combust from anticipation if I don't at least try!

I dial the numbers from memory, then glance at my page to verify. Don't want to call some poor civilian in the middle of their sleep cycle and get an earful.

Then I press dial and hold my breath.

The phone rings once.

A female with a polite business-like tone answers, "Apex. How may I help you?"

"Uh..." I wipe my free palm on the thigh of my jeans then take a deep breath. "This is Charlie Steele. I was told to call this number?"

Tapping from a keyboard sounds on the other end. "Ms. Steele. Thank you for calling. Can you meet your contact at The House of Ugly in four hours?"

I blink in rapid succession. So soon? "Yeah. Sure. Who is it?"

"He'll be the one with the bobblehead on his table."

"Bobblehead?" I say, scrunching my brows together.

"Yes, the bobblehead. See you in four hours, Ms. Steele."

The line goes dead. I pull my phone from my ear to verify that I'm no longer on a call, then sink onto my bed. Four hours. Holy crap.

Do I shower? Do I sleep? Wait. Where's the House of Ugly?

I power up my laptop and do a search. It's a twenty-four-hour bar and grill located in the next town over. If I avoid traffic, it should take me half an hour to get there. That leaves me three and a half hours to get ready. Not enough time to sleep. With my luck, I'd snore through my alarm. Besides, I'm too amped to sleep.

I dart one last glance at Keeley's bed before rummaging through my closet, grabbing a change of clothes, and heading to the bathroom to shower and get ready. I've got one chance to make a killer impression.