A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

people dance on tabletops when they’ve had too much to drink. This
place is just expensive enough to keep the college kids out.
“Dance with me,” Josh says. His chair skids backward. He stands
up. He reaches out a hand to me. I hesitate, looking around. No one
else is dancing yet. “Someone has to go first.”
He won’t take no for an answer.
I set my hand in his. I let him pull me to my feet. The room is
unsteady. The bartender was generous with his pour. On the dance
floor, Josh twirls me. People clap. Someone whistles and it’s
reverberant.
When I come back to center, Josh stops me from spinning. He
presses his hands around the small of my back, steadying me. He
pulls me against him until we’re flush. He gazes down at me, giving
me bedroom eyes. Butterflies dance in my stomach.
A body brushes past mine. “Excuse me.” I feel the mistaken
plunge of an elbow to my side. Before I can reply, Josh’s lips press
against mine. It’s tender, teasing. My body responds.
He whispers in my ear, “I love you more than anything,” and then
the music begins. I can’t hear anything over the sound of it. I wrap
my arms around Josh’s neck. I rest my head against his chest. We
sway. Josh strokes his hands up and down my sides. Everything I
came to tell him slips away.
The next song is faster, something pop. We’re no longer alone on
the dance floor. It’s become crowded. Bodies bump into one another.
The floor thumps with the vibration of the bass. It’s not always a
dance bar. But on Thursday nights, that mold is broken. Josh and I
draw apart. The music is upbeat, not the kind of music for a slow
dance.
And then I’m dancing with some other man that I don’t know. His
hungry brown eyes leer at me. The man spins me as Josh had. His
hand is sweaty, grasping. He spins me once, and then I’m back in
Josh’s safe embrace.
Forked lightning flashes across the sky. We see it through the
glass roof. People gasp. I expect a barrage of rain to fall next. The
rain doesn’t come. The night stays dry, but charged with electricity.
Back at the table, two fresh drinks wait for us. There’s a sheen of
sweat on Josh’s forehead. He still grins at me, gulping his beer. The