Read Online Off the Rails by Isabelle Drake - Free Book Online

make them out, but the imaginary director was waving her off stage. “ Exit !” he hissed. “ Exit !”
    Shit.
    The director in her mind, now wearing a plaid vest and puffy knee-length pants, was up on tiptoe and waving his arms like mad. Madison feared that if she didn’t take the cue, the poor man would collapse with frustration.
    She pushed her chair back. “Where’s the ladies room?”
    “Go back to the entrance, then go left, instead of going right like we did to come into here. Go down the long hall, turn right, and you’ll walk right into it.”
    Madison didn’t get away fast enough. Marcus shot to his feet. “Tell you what. The Men’s Bar & Grill is on the way. I’ll walk with you and stop for a drink while you take care of things.”
    Being the proper gentleman he was, he took her arm and escorted her back to the entrance, where he led her left, instead of right, then down the long hall, where they were greeted by the low din of men’s voices. As they moved forward, the din turned into a low roar. Marcus stopped her by a dark, narrow doorway. When Madison shifted to take a peek in, he stepped in front of her and pointed to the floor. “Just wait right here when you’re done. I’ll come find you.”
    “You’ll come find me?” she echoed.
    What the hell does that mean?
    Her date had the decency to look uncomfortable, but only for a second. Then his face became a mask of sincerity and righteousness. As though explaining that a Men’s Bar & Grill was only for men was acceptable in the new millennium. “Sure. I’ll keep an eye out for you. I won’t be long.” He nodded to a gold brocade chair across the hall. “You can sit there, if you like.”
    With that, he disappeared inside. The only thing left of him was the sound of his voice as he greeted a cluster of bodies leaning on the bar. Madison turned from the all-male sanctuary to the brocade chair. Above the chair was a collection of watercolors featuring sailboats. The people on the boats were enjoying themselves, while the other people, the ones not in the lovely watercolors, had been left on the dock like puppies who weren’t old enough to not pee on the teak decks.
    The seat of the pretty chair looked hard, and only wide enough to accommodate a size eight. Maybe a ten if she had a small ass. It was not a chair for men. It was a chair for the puppies that had to wait on the dock. Beside the chair was a tiny table. On the table was a notepad, bearing the yacht club crest, a cup of tiny pencils and a telephone. Madison looked back into the darkness that had claimed her date.
    Curiosity got the better of her, so she went over to get a better look at the hall table. The impression Cincy Cab 513-654-9816 was visible on the pad of crisp white paper.
    Someone had an idea.
    Madison pulled out her phone and was just about to call for a ride when her Skype notification flashed. A message from Drew.
     
    Drew: Thanks for talking to me today. I have a question, call when you can. I’ll probably be up late tonight.
    Madison: Sure. In about an hour.
     
    Minutes later, she was seated in the back seat of a Cincy cab, her night with the good doctor now just a memory that would later be spun into a funny story.
     
    * * * *
     
    Once home, she debated changing out of the date clothes then decided not to. Drew needed to know she was out and about, not sitting at home. He wouldn’t think she’d changed clothes just for him, would he? Madison considered the quickness of the first call. That level of observation didn’t seem likely. So no worries that he’d think she changed for him.
    After checking the lighting, and resolving to be as efficient and concise as he’d been earlier, she started the call. He answered right away, still wearing the same faded green T-shirt but this time sitting on a couch. This time Madison forced herself to speak first.
    “Hi, Drew. How’s it going?”
    “You look pretty. You changed your clothes. Been