3. Christina
Christina
3
The booming music from the club is loud, even from the curb outside. I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I had worn something warmer than a short dress with thin spaghetti straps. It’s spring, so the days are warm, but I should have known better than to assume it’d stay that way at night.
I didn’t have a lot of options to choose from, though. The last time I went out I was one cup size smaller and apparently had a lot less ass.
“Is this dress too short?” I ask Julia.
“What?” She shouts.
I roll my eyes. We’re both wearing heels, but I’m still about six inches shorter. “I said. Is this dress too short?”
Her gaze sweeps my body, and she gestures for me to turn around. “I think it’s the perfect length,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. You look hot. Don’t worry.”
I nod my head, choosing to believe her. It’s not like I’m worried I won’t find someone to dance with. I’m not here to find a man. But I don’t want to look like I’m spilling out of a child’s dress either.
“What time do you have to be home by?” Julia leans over as close to me as possible so that I can hear her over the bass.
“My mom’s out of town with her boyfriend, so…” I say, my sentence trailing off as I shrug. I decided to live at home during my freshman year to save some money, but my mom likes to joke that she sometimes forgets I’m even there at all.
Still, it’s not like her to take unplanned vacations so last minute, but it is very much like her boyfriend, Albert.
Maybe a little spontaneity will be good for her.
“Oh, good job, Meredith,” Julia says in approval.
I roll my eyes. There’s a lot more to dating someone than their wealth, but that’s not exactly a shared opinion. For what it’s worth, I really do like Albert. He seems kind and considerate and lavishes my mom with extravagant gifts, attention - whatever she wants. It’s nice to see her happy. In our corrupt city, eligible dating options for the assistant prosecutor are pretty limited.
“So, since Meredith is gone, we’re staying until midnight at the earliest.”
“Fine,” I groan.
Not that my mom would care now, either way.
I smooth the dress over my hips. Honestly? She’d probably be relieved.
I think my good girl reputation makes her nervous. She says most kids go through a party stage and she’s been slightly concerned that I’ve never really shown an interest in it.
I consider texting her a picture of my outfit but stop short. She’s on vacation with her boyfriend. Mom hasn’t had a boyfriend who treats her well in a long, long time. She deserves to enjoy this without me interrupting.
“Don’t look so sad, Christina,” Julia says, nudging me forward. “It’s not like I’m trapping you at the library to study. We’re going to have fun.” Her eyebrows raise in forced enthusiasm.
“I know, I know.” I chew the inside of my cheek. Nerves flutter in my stomach as we approach the door. It’s not that I don’t like going out with Julia. We just have very different consequences for getting caught drinking underage.
Corrupt Deputy District Attorney prosecutor’s daughter caught drinking underage in Mafioso club.
I can see the clickbait now. I run a hand through my hair nervously as the bouncer checks our IDs. I’ve been careful, ever conscientious to avoid being reduced to a media headline. Being labeled corrupt or associated with the Mafia would be my worst nightmare.
Besides, any criminal activity or even the appearance of it has far-reaching consequences for my future.
My scholarship to Millerton University, my pre-law track… all of it could be taken away from me in a heartbeat. My budding law career wiped out before it even had a chance to start.
No, thank you.
“Wait here,” Julia shouts over the thud of the music as we step inside. She grips my shoulder.
“I’ll be right back.”
I watch her sashay her way to the bar and smirk. She does this way more often than I do, which is fine by me since she’s the one with the fake ID. It wouldn’t surprise me if she manages to go the entire night without paying for a single drink. She’s shameless and I love it.
“Here,” she says a moment later, handing me a shot. “Take this first.”
I eye the clear glass. This can’t be good.
“Come on, the sooner I get you drunk the sooner you’ll forget about Matt and find a new guy.”
“I don’t want a new guy,” I say, leaning closer so that she can hear me.
She rolls her eyes and drowns her own shot, shivering as she slams the little glass on the nearest table.
“Are you sure this place is safe?” I ask, eyeing the heavily tattooed men that stand against the wall.
Julia laughs like I’ve asked a ridiculous question. “Every place in Millbury is run by the mob.
Lighten up.”
I nod my head, watching the men regardless. I’m not exactly confident in my ability to gauge danger.
I down my shot.
“Oh, come on, Christina,” Julia says, dragging me by the hand to the dance floor. “As long as you’re not planning on selling drugs tonight at a competitive price, I’m pretty sure they’ll leave you alone.”
She’s right, I think, and I love dancing, so I give in. Soon, I feel myself opening up as I dance with Julia and the few girls around us.
She was right. This does help.
By the seventh song, the alcohol buzz has worn off and my feet start to hurt.
“I need to take a break,” I shout in Julia’s ear, wiping the sweat off my forehead with one hand.
She looks at me with disappointment but nods. “Okay! But stay close!”.
I make my way over to a nearby table, trying to hide my limp. I’m feeling especially self-conscious about being the one girl in here that wore the wrong heels to dance in.
Rookie mistake. Yet another reminder that I don’t have a clue how to be a normal college student; I don’t even know how to club properly! I loosen the strap around my ankles and massage my aching feet.
Julia is a vision out on the dance floor. I can’t help but smile as I watch her. She throws her head back as she shakes and shimmies, surrounded by men watching her with a gleam of hope in their eyes. She’s a natural and I have no idea how she does this and seems to thrive under all this male attention.
Better her than me.
I just escaped one shitty boyfriend, I’m definitely not looking to add another.
“Hey beautiful, what are you drinking?”
A man walks up to me suddenly, startling me. He gets so close I can smell the whiskey on his breath.
I edge away nervously.
“Nothing, thanks,” I say, gesturing to the empty table. He looms over me and I survey my options. I could get up and walk over to Julia, but to do so, I’d have to brush up against him. He doesn’t look like he’s overtly part of the mob – his visible tattoos aren’t any that I recognize as family marks.
But he’s big and way too strong for me to start a fight with. I don’t like my odds if I make him mad.
“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.” He slurs, dropping a large, sweaty hand on my arm.
Ew.
I jerk away from him and glance over at the dance floor to see if I can spot Julia. She’s nowhere to be found. Great.
“Let me go,” I cry out, trying to shake him off.
He leers down at me. “I don’t think I will.”
The music is so loud, and the club is so busy, I doubt anyone will come to my rescue if I cause a scene. But as he starts to pull me up towards him – I panic and drive my aching heel directly into his foot.
He shouts with pain and narrows his eyes at me, malice gleaming in their dark depths. Oh, shit.
“She said no,” a deep voice says.