No Shoes

A young lady approaches the desk and asks to use the phone. She'd come in with one of the party goers but didn't go up to the apartment. After a brief phone conversation, she relays to me that she'd lost her jacket which had her wallet, phone and keys. The guy she came in with was going to give her a ride home. As she's telling me this, I notice out of the corner of my eye that her "ride" was speed-walking pass the desk. Once outside, the guy starts running away. Oh boy, here we go.

"Hey...Your ride just left."

"Really, when???" she says, her eyes starting to water up.

"Just now, your back was turned to him, but he just walked out the door and starting running."

"Nooooooooooooooo!" she screams and starts crying at the desk. Fuck me I think. "How am I suppose to get home?"

"Well, it's almost 5 and the T starts running soon. It will get you to Quincy."

"But I have no money"

Shit, that's not a problem. I want this chick outta here, so I pulling 5 bucks from my wallet. "Here, this is enough to get you on a bus and a train."

"But I have no shoes." I peek over the desk, and look down. All this time, I had never noticed she wasn't wearing any shoes. In fact, homegirl's barefoot. Where the fuck is this woman's shoes? 

"Well, how about asking Henri? Do you know him? I'll let you up."

"Can you go and ask him please?" she says. " I have no shoes."

Whatever gets her out of here I'll do. I go upstairs and knock on Henri's door. Damn this party is bumping.

"Yo yo, what's good my brother? You want some coke? Weed? Beers? Bitches?" Henri says in his French accented English. He's always hosting parties and typically offers me the aforementioned items.

"Naw, man. There's some chick named Maria...." He interrupts me. " Fuck that bitch, man, Call the police on her, She's crazy. I have a restraining order on her." Then he just closes the door. Ahh ... What the fuck?  I do back downstairs hoping she's gone. Nope. still there

"Henri said to call the police on you and I don't want to do that."

"Noooooooooooooo!" she wails and then drops down on her back in the middle of the lobby crying. After attempting to coax her into a more discreet area of the lobby, I rescue-drag her over to a couch by her arms and pull her up. I'm sure if the anyone were to see this on camera, they'd think I was about to do something not so great to her.

"Call 911, they drugged me." 

No problema. sweetheart. I didn't even ask for any details. I just called 911 and told them some woman claimed someone drugged her. EMS services show up in a few minutes. I point to where she's at and tell the EMT tech about what happened.

EMT " Who drugged you, Ma'am?"


"They who?"

"They...the people that drugged me." she says.

"Naw honey, you drugged yourself" he says. He then tosses (I mean that literally) on the gurney, straps her in and wheels her out.

"Tired of these fucking rich college motherfuckers that can't handle their shit." he mumbles as they leave. Damn, that job must make you cynical after awhile. Whatever, at least she's gone.