3. Amelia
Chapter 3
Amelia
“ M en are bastards,” I shout over the music to Carly, who’s grinding behind me.
She nods, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Preach it, sister!”
We’re making quite the scene, two masked women in designer dresses, dancing like we don’t give a damn. And we don’t.
My veins are buzzing from the champagne I’m drinking, but can’t afford.
Luckily, Felix can.
After borrowing his black Amex card, I’ve charged it with everything, including the expensive champagne.
I sway on the dance floor, the bass thumping through my bones as I down another flute of champagne. The bubbles tickle my nose, and I can’t help but laugh.
As I dance, I adjust my mask; the soft, intricate pattern rubs against my cheeks.
Here, everyone is anonymous, and it’s liberating to not look over my shoulder. Or it could be the champagne I’ve been drinking all night that’s taken the edge off.
“Thank God for these masks,” I yell, gesturing to the intricate lace covering half my face. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know it’s me making a fool of myself.”
Carly spins me around, her hands on my hips. “Live a little, babe! Who cares what they think?”
Without warning, a shiver runs down my spine. The hair on the back of my neck rises. It’s like someone’s watching me.
I slow down, my eyes scanning the crowd, searching for a pair of eyes that are looking at me. The masks make it impossible to tell, though. Everyone looks the same, their features obscured by lace or leather.
I spin around again, faster this time, trying to shake off the feeling. But it only intensifies. My skin prickles with goosebumps as unease creeps up my spine.
I glance around, my eyes darting from one masked face to another, but no one seems out of place.
It’s your imagination. Stop worrying.
Carly leans closer, her eyes sparkling with too much champagne. She mouths something, but I can’t make out what she’s saying over the pounding music. She cups my ear and yells, “I told you Jodie was trouble!”
I nod. “I should’ve listened. But tonight I want to drink and dance and forget him and her.”
The music pulses on, but I’m frozen, my senses on high alert as I scan the room, searching for any sign of...what? I’m not sure.
“I feel like someone is watching me,” I tell Carly.
“Of course, someone is looking at you. You’re wearing a sexy dress that clings to your body like it was made for you.”
I laugh.
“I suppose so.”
The feeling persists, though, a nagging sense that someone’s eyes are on me. I raise my glass to my lips, taking a nervous sip of champagne. My eyes never leave the crowd, still scanning for that elusive gaze.
“Let’s get a drink,” Carly yells, taking my arm. “You’re being paranoid. If anyone is looking at you, it’s because you’re hot.”
Finally convinced, we stumble off the dance floor, laughing, and grab a couple of stools at the bar.
“I warned you, Ames, that Jodie was a gold digger, and always has been. What did I say? She’s got a radar for guys with fat wallets.” Carly’s voice is softer now that we’re not vying with the music.
I wave my hand dismissively, feeling a weird sense of detachment. “It’s not like I’m surprised or anything. I mean, I’m angrier at myself for not seeing it sooner.” I shrug. “I’m over him, Carly. Honestly, I don’t even care about him right now. I just need to figure out what I’m going to do.”
Carly’s expression softens, and she reaches out to squeeze my hand. “What do you mean? You can’t go back to his place?”
I shake my head, a knot forming in my stomach. “No way. I was thinking maybe...could I crash at your place for a bit? Just until I sort out what I’m doing?”
Carly’s face twists into an apologetic grimace. “Ames, we’re already full up. We have three girls in a one-bedroom apartment, and that is crazy enough. There’s no space, Hun.”
“Oh.” A pang of desperation churns my gut.
Carly’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “Use his Amex for a few days. He owes you, Ames. You can get a nice hotel room or book an Airbnb for a week and take your time figuring out what you want to do.”
I stare at her, then down at the card in my purse, feeling a thrill of revenge. Yeah, Felix owes me. Big time.
“A bottle of your best champagne,” I tell the barman when he asks what we want. I just hope the Amex card doesn’t max out before I get to the hotel.
I glance over at Carly as her teeth scrape over her bottom lip. “You know he’s going to come crawling back, don’t you?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Probably.”
“Ames, don’t fall for it. He’s only going to hurt you again.”
I release a dry, humorless sound. “He’s dead to me.”
Carly’s expression remains skeptical. “You’re not saying that because you’re angry, are you?”
I shake my head, trying to reassure her. “No, Carly, I mean it. I’m done with him. I just need to find somewhere to live.”
Carly’s eyes narrow as if she’s trying to read my mind. But after a moment, she nods, seeming to accept my answer. “Good. Because you deserve so much better than him.”
We sit in silence for a moment, sipping our champagne as calmness washes over me. Probably the champagne and the bubbles tickling my nose, but I like it. Maybe I’ll be fine.
“I mean it,” Carly says. “When you meet the right person, you’ll never worry about him cheating on you. You’ll know he never will.”
Finding another man right now is low on my to-do list, but I get the sentiment. “Felix is just a stepping stone to finding true love.”
“Absolutely.” Carly seems to sense my mood shift, and says, “Come on, Ames. Let’s dance.”
I hesitate for a moment, but Carly’s energy wins me over. We finish our champagne, leaving the glasses on the counter, and then she drags me back onto the dance floor.
The music is just as loud, just as pulsating, but this time I’m ready to lose myself in the beat. Carly’s laughter echoes in my ears as a sense of freedom I haven’t felt in a long time overcomes me.
But as I twirl, the room spins a bit too much. The fuzzy feeling in my head isn’t only from the champagne. I stumble, catching myself on Carly’s arm.
“I think...I need to go home,” I mumble as I stride off the dance floor, with Carly following.
Home. The word echoes in my mind. Where is home? Not Felix’s apartment, not anymore. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and suddenly I’m fighting back tears.
Carly’s face swims in front of me. “You okay, hon?”
“I’m fine, I need to get out of here,” I lie, pushing through the crowd towards the exit. “I need some air.”
Outside, the cool night air hits my face, and I gulp it down like my body is desperate for fresh air. A cab pulls up, and I practically fall into it.
“Call me as soon as you get into your room,” Carly tells me as she slams the door.
I nod as the driver asks for my destination.
I realize I have nowhere to go. The tears I’ve been holding back fall, hot and heavy, down my cheeks.
“Just...drive,” I choke out.
But as the cab pulls away from the curb, a familiar face exits the club. My boss, Westley Davenport, of all people.
I stare out of the window. Our eyes meet briefly before the cab whisks me away into the night.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and with shaky hands, I pull it out and read the message.
Mr. Davenport: We’ll talk on Monday morning, 8 am sharp.