Steve Steve Steve Steve Steve.<br/><br/>Where the heck was STEVE?<br/><br/>Abbie lay on the bed in her big, froofy dress, staring up at the ceiling, only vaguely aware that the sun was up outside and she'd been up ALL NIGHT. Steve went outside a couple of hours ago, taking with him the threat of having to answer whether she'd actually ... well ... you know. And he wasn't back. Really, she should go look for him, but she felt pretty irritated. He could wait.<br/><br/>She rolled over and flipped on the TV. Man, this motel room was scuzzy. Was that a cockroach? Gross. Gross gross gross. She'd call daddy to get her out of this, but then she'd have to explain just why she was here ... no ... not gonna do that.<br/><br/>She made a face. The TV was full of NEWS. Ugh. All talking about some riot or some violence or something. She flipped it to MTV - thank God this hotel had THAT at least - and watched a little Jersey Shore until even THAT was swept away by NEWS. What took away MTV?<br/><br/>She got up and paced. Something had to happen. She scooped up her cell phone and dialed her best friend, Kristi.