5. Red Soles
FIVE
Red Soles
TARA
Chicago, Illinois - Two months later
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into going clubbing with you tonight.” Tara Bailey adjusted her dress, which barely made it halfway down her thighs. Her wavy, red hair hung down well beyond her freckled shoulder blades, covering some of what her backless, green dress did not.
“If I’m driving downtown, you’re going out with me,” Becca admitted as she smoothed out her own dress. She flipped her long, black hair behind her shoulders. “And giving you an excuse to wear those heels was all the convincing you needed to get out of those yoga pants you’ve been living in lately, so no complaining.”
Tara grinned and shimmied her shoulders, unable to resist making sure everyone and their mother saw the gorgeous red soles on the pair of heels she loved so much. The same shoes she’d saved for months to afford but rarely wore except for special occasions.
Her first time clubbing since her breakup definitely qualified as a special occasion. With three-inch heels, she was an inch or so shy of six feet tall and most definitely stood out in the crowd.
“And your dress makes your green eyes pop.” Becca smiled as they drew closer to the bouncer at the entrance. “Face it, Tara. You look hot tonight. The men will line up to dance with you. Oh!” Becca tapped her arm and surreptitiously pointed to a man toward the front of the line. “Maybe even him.”
Tara didn’t bother to be subtle while checking him out from head to toe. Then she caught the woman wrapping her arm through his. Her smile dropped. “Looks hot, but I think he only has eyes for that blond up there. She’s just as hot.”
Shorter by several inches, Becca missed the blond. She grabbed Tara’s shoulder to balance herself on her tiptoes. “Damn. You’re right.”
“Yeah.” Tara exhaled and leaned toward Becca so she could be heard over the sound of the music that made its way outside. “Last thing I want to do is encroach on someone else’s date.”
“Good point.” Becca smiled as they approached the bouncer, who held them back until a couple holding hands exited the building. “But we can still dance.”
“Yes, we can.”
Motioned inside, Tara and Becca shared a grin as they walked into their favorite nightclub, Club 72. It was an upscale nightclub with an enormous dance floor and Chicago’s best weekend DJ.
Tara liked it because it reminded her of her family’s bookstore back home, which was established in 1972, the same year as this club. Though she was confident the owner of this club had put more effort into updating it than her parents had with their shop back home in Grant’s Crossing, Ohio.
Tara and Becca loved a good cocktail or glass of wine but weren’t otherwise big drinkers. A big night on the town warranted at least a drink or two before hitting the dance floor. As was their ritual, they started by heading to the bar before taking a lap around the perimeter to see who was there and what everyone was wearing.
“I’ll get the first round,” Tara offered as she reached into her tiny purse that held her ID, credit card, phone, lipstick, and enough cash for a cab ride home if the Lyft was too expensive when they left for the night. “The usual?” she raised her eyebrows, glancing toward her friend.
Receiving a nod, she ordered their drinks and handed the Manhattan to Becca while keeping the Old Fashioned for herself. They meandered through a crowd of ladies gathered for a bachelorette party, admiring their dresses as they passed. She caught the eye of the bride-to-be, and couldn’t resist congratulating her. “And you look fantastic in that dress.” Tara nearly yelled to be heard over the music blaring in their ears.
“THANK YOU!” the lady yelled in return. Glancing down, her eyes widened when she caught sight of Tara’s red soles. With a big smile, the bachelorette added, “And I love your shoes!”
Tara’s face lit up. “Thanks!”
With a renewed spring in her step, she and Becca twisted and turned through the hoards of people to step up on the table-filled platform surrounding the dance floor on three sides. As if they’d just hacked their way through the jungle with machetes, they finally reached a clearing with an open high-top table.
Becca held up her drink and spoke loudly enough to be heard over the loud music and the steady beat they could feel pulsing through the floor. “Here’s to a fun night out with friends and an entire club full of good-looking men.”
Relieved to be just outside of the traffic flow of people, Tara clinked her glass against Becca’s to offer a toast. “And here’s to the best roommate a girl could ask for, happily sacrificing to come out and be my wing woman!”
Becca smiled and drank to the kind words Tara offered.
Tara took another sip as her other hand rested atop her purse. “Let the people watching begin!”