[For Rory]

[sandandwater]

When Pippa didn't show up for her Tuesday night shift at Last Call, the owner came in to make sure set up and opening was completed. Then he started making phone calls. No answer on her cell phone. No answer on her home phone. Mike left messages on both voicemail systems: Pippa, where are you? You're on the schedule for tonight in case you forgot. Call me, dollface.

She didn't return his calls or even show up at the bar. By the time the musical act of the night started their second set, Mike was getting worried. Not agitated. Pippa wasn't the irresponsible type. Where some of the other girls might simply pull a no-show for a shift, Phillipa Kerr had never once done that in the almost three years that he'd known her. Not once.

A thought occurred to him and he went back into the storeroom/office and pulled out the binder that held contact information for the bar's bookings. Pippa was dating one of the musicians that played at the Call regularly. Rory, wasn't it? The Irish guy...Stone. Finding the cell phone number for the man, Miked dialed. Maybe she'd been whisked off somewhere. Or maybe Rory knew where she was...hopefully.

Comments

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

Rory was trying and failing to concentrate on the arrangement for a new song when his cell rang. Pulling it out of his back pocket, he let out a soft sigh when he checked the display and recognized Last Call's number. Pippa calling from the bar no doubt meant that she'd misplaced her cell somewhere. No wonder he hadn't heard from her.

He flipped open the phone. "There you are," he said cheerfully. "I've been waiting to hear from you all day, sweet."