Chapter 14 #2
“What if we get, like, hurt or something? Aren’t clubs dangerous?”
“Babe, you’re with me,” I laugh. “Trust me, no one’s gonna touch you.”
And that’s the motherfucking truth. Where we’re going, people know me. And I mean me, real Tommy; the Tommy that would beat someone to fucking death’s door if they crossed me. Yeah, no one’s gonna bother us. No one there would dare.
Kira isn’t sure about this, but with Lexie on my side, we get her convinced.
And just like that, I see a light at the end of the tunnel.
All I have to do is make it until tonight without exploding, all I have to do is hold it together until then.
I can make it that long. If I can just get there, I’ll be able to breathe.
********
Tommy
They invited Janessa, which is fine I guess, but she’s watching me like I’m a loose cannon and frankly, that’s offensive.
But she’s on her best and most passive behavior, every word and gesture a study in remorse and the desire to make amends. She hasn’t brought up Brian, or asked me anything about the whole situation, so she’s clearly watching her words.
Lexie, predictably, is suspicious and a little peeved, but willing to give Janessa a second chance.
Kira, unsurprisingly, is acting shyly optimistic.
I don’t know what kind of conversation they had behind closed doors or if they cleared the air about the whole ‘other woman’ thing, but I assume they must’ve because they aren’t bringing it up now as the girls do their make up while blasting some pop music.
They’re sharing a bottle of prosecco, but none of them are sipping too heavily, which is good because I’d rather not worry about them getting trashed.
Young-gi is probably already going to murder me for taking them out dancing, no reason to make him extra mad by letting the girls get sloppy drunk in public.
Bizarrely, the thought of him being angry with me makes my lips curl in a grin, while a wobbly feeling flips around in my stomach and makes me almost nauseous. Thrilled, terrified, defensive and smug. What the fuck is wrong with me?
The girls ask my opinion on their outfits, ask me a million questions about the club, and change a few dozen times until they’re all satisfied that they’re neither over nor under dressed for the occasion.
To be fair, I’m sure my outfit is confusing them.
I borrowed a neon pink tank top from Kira’s closet, buried far in the back.
It fits like a second skin which is the whole point, and I pair it with black, loose and stretchy athletic pants–because tight leather pants or short-shorts are for masochists and twinks, and I’m probably not the first one and definitely not the other.
No comment on the possibility of being a masochist, thank you very much.
Sneaking out is harder than I expect it to be, mostly because the girls make it more complicated than it needs to be.
Kira calls a bunch of staff–the driver, security–and says she isn’t going to the scheduled party, that she’s not feeling up to it.
She orders room service with movie snacks and an on-demand romantic comedy–that was Lexie’s idea, because these girls are taking sneaking out way more seriously than I expected them to.
Janessa has social media posts pre-prepared of the three of them hanging out for movie night on the couch.
“We’re going dancing, not on a murder-spree,” I say incredulously as the girls anxiously go over every detail of their cover-up. “We don’t need alibis. We aren’t gonna get chased by the Feds.”
“I don’t want Uncle Young-gi to know,” Kira chews her lip anxiously. She’s been on the fence about this whole thing, but Janessa sided with Lexie about going, so she’s outnumbered. “We’re ready, let’s just go. I’m so nervous I might get sick if we wait any longer.”
Poor thing. So anxious. I pat her head, and she laughs and brushes my hand away. Janessa watches us, and those siren-eyes of hers are so hard to read that I can’t tell if she knows the engagement is fake or not.
I would think my hot pink tank top would tip her off, but maybe seeing me grind against a bunch of guys will help.
We hustle down the elevator and out onto the street, hiding our faces under hats and hoods, giggling like we’re running from a school principal.
We run as soon as we’re out of the building, laughing our asses off from a mix of their adrenaline and giddy excitement.
A few blocks away, I hail a cab for us because the girls have no idea how to do that.
We’re piled into the car, barely fitting the four of us, and as we drive off the girls squeal like they just got away with stealing something. Kira keeps looking out the back window like she’s expecting Young-gi to pop out of traffic and say ‘got ya!’.
But we make it to the club without incident.
We leave the cab, I pay the man in cash because I’ve got fifteen grand now bitches, and I turn to see the girls huddled on the sidewalk, staring at the line out the door, suddenly looking a lot less confident.
“Come on, ladies,” I laugh, throwing my arms around their shoulders and pulling them to the doors.
It’s a big club, and pretty popular. It’s not a dive, and looks almost classy compared to some of the other shitholes in this area. Blue lighting outside paints everything in electric shades, and the music is audible from the street, and I expected nothing less on a Saturday night.
“Don’t we have to wait in line?” Kira asks.
“I’m surprised you even know what a line is,” I tease her, and her little finger jabs my ribs in retaliation.
“Duke!” I greet the guy standing at the door. He’s a huge guy, but not scary at all. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he looks fucking terrifying, but he’d sooner hug somebody than hit them. Not that I’ll tell anyone that, he kind of has to be scary for security purposes.
“Tommy?” Duke claps me on the back with his giant hand. “Haven’t seen you in ages! Where’ve you been? Everybody’s here already, go on in!”
He waves us inside, and the girls look at me like I’ve grown a second head as we skip the line.
Billy, the second security guy, sees me and gives me a silent up nod, which I return.
He checks the girls ID’s, but not any more thoroughly than absolutely necessary, before waving us in without asking for the cover charge.
“They don’t need your ID?” Lexie asks. “What are you, the secret owner or something?”
I snort. “I fucking wish. That would be a real plot twist, huh? Nah, I just dance here a lot. They know me.”
As soon as we’re inside, I feel some of the tension leaving my shoulders, hell, leaving my soul.
It smells a little like body spray and industrial air-conditioning, and I breathe it in eagerly, like I’m inhaling after being underwater for a long time.
Even though all I want is to dive into the dance floor and find my group and let them help me feel better, I let the girls pause to take it all in.
As far as floor plans go, it’s nothing revolutionary: a big-ass dance floor and some tables off by the bar, a single pool table under the only orange light in the blue and purple theme of the club.
The tunes are bumping and the DJ in his tiny booth overlooking the stage is bopping his head along with the beat, in sync with the crowd.
“Come on,” I say once I realize they’re not just hesitating to look at everything but because they aren’t sure where to go first. “Have you guys really never been to a club?”
“I went to a few raves in Europe,” Janessa offers cooly. “Nothing in the States.”
“Whoa, you what!?” Lexie asks, so eager for the details that she forgets her animosity for a moment. I grab Kira’s hand and pull her with me to the dance floor, knowing the other two girls will follow.
We end up in a huddle in the bright lights, all the strobes and multicolored flashes giving us new faces, unfamiliar and exciting.
I pull them in so they can hear me over the music, which is loudest here.
“If y’all walk away from me and somebody gives you trouble, just tell them you’re with Tommy, okay? ”
The three of them look at me suspiciously, but nod.
I take Kira’s hips and guide her, nothing scandalous, just helping her get the rhythm.
Then, because I’m a good wing man like that, I spin her into Janessa’s arms and take Lexie.
The girls laugh at themselves as they struggle to relax, but soon enough Janessa is moving like water, hypnotizing and fluid, putting on a one-woman show for her dance partner.
Kira is watching her, that’s for sure, but I still have no idea if her feelings are anything other than platonic.
She’s got a good poker face. Like her uncle. Fuck that guy.
I feel hands slide up my back, and glance over my shoulder.
“Tommy!” Maggie, real name Magnus, but he’s a twink through and through so he goes by Maggie, smiles up at me.
A few familiar faces are with him, Jules and Ry and Sam.
They pile onto me, hugging me, chattering at me and interrogating me, catching me up on all the drama of their lives.
They pull over someone else, Georgie, a new member of their group, and soon it’s like we’re best friends.
I pull Ry off my chest when they start trying to put me in a twink sandwich. “Hey, let me introduce you guys to some people. Help me keep an eye on them tonight, yeah? They’re with me.”
“Of course!” Jules looks around, his eyes going right over the girls very obviously standing right beside me, because I’ve never brought girls around before. To be real, I don’t think I’ve brought anyone before.