File Under WTF

In high school I had a best friend named Gordie. For many years we palled around town, riding around in his parents' Nissan Multi getting into anything and everything. As with most friendships we lost touch over the years; though we'd reconnect every so often. He went off to music school and I went to jewelry school. He always made the effort to reconnect whenever I would fly into town, and last year he told me he was coming to Orlando on his way to South Beach for some DJ conference. So I hopped in my car and went to meet up with my old friend Gordie and his friends.
When they pulled into the parking lot where I was to meet them, the years disappeared. It was Gord, his friend Scott, and his friend Scott's girlfriend, Brenda. We decided to go grab some dinner and drinks, and sat for hours at Bahama Breeze and shot the shit. I had never met Scott or Brenda before, but it was really like sitting around with old friends- despite the fact that I was on a covert spy mission to find out if my girlfriend actually had a hope of getting back together with Scott (they had broken up years ago and she had since realized that it was a huge mistake). After dinner we went on the hunt for a hotel. A cheap hotel. We found one. It was one of those Days Inns that smell like dead hookers, and that you sleep on top of the sheets for fear of getting some kind of skin disease. There were ants on every surface and rather curious holes at opportune places in the bathroom walls. But whathtehell, it was like 50 bucks a night. So we dumped our stuff, made & drank some cocktails, then went out on foot to find something to do. We found Pirate Mini Golf. Brenda, Gord, Scott & I played and totally went back to old days in just being generally reckless goofs- throwing clubs, trying to hit balls all over the place, laughing like idiots.
When we finished our game they wouldn't even let us go pee, since they were closed and wanted us to get the hell out. Walking home, again laughing and being dorks, we not so eagerly looked forward to the Dead Hooker hotel. Went back, had a few more cocktails then went to sleep. And that was that. In the morning, I quietly woke up in the morning, showered, and drove back here and straight to work.
That was the first and last time I ever met Brenda.
Recently I called Gord when I was in Orlando. I was walking past the Pirate Mini Golf place and felt compelled to reach out to find out when we were going to hang out in Orlando again. He said that flights to Orlando were too spendy, but they were all going to South Beach again and could I make it? That was a toughie. I hate South Beach. And electronic music. But I love that crew. So I filed it under maybe. Brenda wrote on my facebook wall to let me know the same thing, and could I come to Miami to meet them? Again, filed under maybe.
Then I logged on to facebook today to see that a friend had joined the RIP Brenda Group. I only know one Brenda. I thought maybe it was a joke, alluding to her recently passed birthday. I went to the page, and it was fairly ambiguous. So I went to her page. There was lots of posts referencing Heaven being a better place today. At this point I'm freaking out, just reapeating omigodomigodomigod. My husband kept asking, "What? What? Who? Call someone to find out what's going on!"
I called Gordie. He said that he was going to call me this week; that they're still coming to Florida, to South Beach and can I meet up with them- they're having a memorial service for her. I asked Gordie what happened? I was sweating. He pauses and gets really quiet and says, "She was murdered...by her boss. He was osessed with her. She'd complained about it, but she hadn't said anything about it for a while; we really didn't think too much about it anymore," At that point, when I started breathing again, all I could say was, "Gordie, I'm so sorry. I'm shocked. I'm so sorry," He was so quiet, and said, "Scott is a mess right now. I have to go back to work, but can we talk this week? You just don't think it could happen to you. I put up a picture from that night in Orlando at her funeral, it was a really good picture of her & Scott. I've been so scatterbrained lately," "Of course, Gordie. I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to talk about this,"
Here's part 2. When said friend asked me last year about Scott's girlfriend, I told her I was so sorry, but I couldn't not like her. That my friend could be mad at me, but I really liked her (which is a total faux pas in friend alliances. But what are you gonna do?). And at Christmas, Scott bought Brenda some clothes from said friend for Brenda because he knew she'd love them. Bridges were being rebuilt.
Now what?