Dissapointed but not surprised

                                    

                                          
Alex. 
"You cannot keep on winning all the time, Alex."
Ace throws his cards on the table, visibly annoyed.
"Obviously, he can, Ace," Mae smiles at him. "You see, he's not very lucky when it comes to girls and love, at least let him have luck when it comes to cards."
Really nice, Mae, really nice.
It makes Ace laugh, an unrestrainable laugh. And it makes me take the nearest pillow and throw it at her.
"I wouldn't say he's not lucky with girls," Ace argues in between his laughing. "He's just chosen to play games with their infatuation."
Mae shrugs, pouring herself more alcohol. There's a rule we have – we can't all be doing drugs and drinking at the same time. One of us always has to stay sober, or at least more on the sober side. Someone other than Ciara, someone to help her. It seemed that it would be Mae, though the second she walked down here, she reached for a bottle of rum.
"Not nice of you, Mae. Though it doesn't seem you have much luck either." I say.
"Oh, Alexander Roux Baudelaire Quinn, that wasn't nice of you."
I smile at her, all wide and with dimples.
It seems to be collective bad luck, but people never stay long to play cards with us. We started out as a big group of people and ended up just the three of us. The reasons are always interpreted in different words, but essentially it's the same reason – they get bored. It's a game you decide to play when you've run out of all ideas of entertainment, and we happen to possess some talent at it.
Parker left our group two minutes ago when his name got summoned from the other end of the room. He was the last player willing to finish this game with us.
The attention in the room is switched to the big tv screen. A video I haven't grasped yet, started a while ago. I slowly understand the purpose of the video – to entertain us with dirty jokes and animations along. The jokes themselves aren't that funny, but the comments being dropped are. They compensate for the humour the jokes are missing.
Ciara walks to us, squatting in front of Mae. "Can you go up and get some more alcohol, please?" Mae nods, obviously bored of the video. According to Ciara's instructions, all she has to do is walk up to the barman, say the code word 'paparazzi' and he'll give her a bag of alcohol. A simple task with a purpose worth praise in the eyes of these people
********
Seconds blend into minutes and my eyelids grow heavier. The videos long over, jokes have been replaced for pills and joints and more alcohol. I relax in a way I haven't felt a long time, almost falling asleep. I'm brought back to reality when someone near me complains about no alcohol being left.
Instantly I flash my eyes open, straightening myself up. I look around the basement, eyes lingering on the staircase. Mae's not here. I check the time – over fifteen minutes have passed since she's left. Ciara made it clear the stock had to get restocked urgently.
The memories of the last time she disappeared like this come flashing back, worry wrapping my whole body. I seem to be the only one noticing Mae's missing. My anxiety has been triggered, though I'm not sure what's catalysing it – the cannabis or just anxiety in general.
Ace sitting next to me has fallen asleep. His eyes are open, chest slowly rising and falling. When Francis walks by, asking a question, Ace replies monotonic like a robot. I hit his arm multiple times before I get his attention.
"What?" He groans, but still doesn't open his eyes.
"Get up, Ace. We need to find Mae."
"Why? She just got more booze, a minute ago."