Chapter 8
SAGE
The three of my closest friends and I pile into Ophelia’s BMW X5—a gift her father gave her as a graduation present. Jumping in the passenger seat, I shake my hair to get the excess rain off.
“That was fucking close,” Ophelia says, putting her key in the ignition and cranking her car. “I swear, Sage, Saint has it out for you. He’s just as bad as your brother, if not worse.”
“I keep telling her the same thing. I swear he’s in love with you. Why else would he care so much about where you go or who you’re with? I get it coming from Sax, but Saint? Why else would he care, other than he’s madly in love with you?” Frieda says over my shoulder. The three of them laugh, agreeing with her comment.
“He is not in love with me. God, he hates me, if anything. He loves to give me a hard time. That’s it,” I say to them, pulling down the visor and checking my makeup to see if the rain ruined anything. The flash back of our “accidental kiss” comes soaring into my brain, and I hope the girls can’t see the flush of my skin rapidly taking over my face.
“She’s in denial. She’ll see it one day.” Ophelia smiles at me as she puts the car in drive and heads down my driveway.
The drive to the club is only fifteen minutes. The four of us chat about upcoming events at school or who each of us finds attractive. We all go to Golden Heights College in town. The four of us have been growing up together since elementary school. Ophelia and I have known each other since we were born. Our fathers were friends, and since they were at the club most of the time, so were Ophelia and I. Ophelia’s mom passed away when she was in second grade, a drunk driver hit her car head on, killing her instantly. We both grew up without a mom, so the club has always been our home.
Bristol showed up in fifth grade, having moved here from the city. Her father is a big-time banker who wanted to raise his family away from the city. The moment her family moved to Golden Heights, her father, Anthony, found his way to the club. He’s the official treasurer of the club. Anthony grew up in Golden Heights, so he was well aware of my father’s club and took the opportunity to join the second he saw his chance.
Now Frieda, she came around in middle school; she was in and out of foster care most of her life. Her parents were big-time drug addicts and couldn’t take care of her. She was living with her grandmother, but when she passed away from cancer, she found herself in foster care. One day, Ophelia and I saw her walking down the street outside of the club, and we called her over. She told us she was going to the corner store for bread for her foster mom. I told my dad about her that day and how she was practically on her own. My dad, being the man he is, found his way to Frieda’ s foster home, and a few weeks later she was adopted by none other than Sam himself and his late wife, Julie. Ever since then, she’s been our fourth.
It’s funny how the club brought us together. The four of us have been through it. From birthdays, heartbreaks, schools, and even deaths. I would do anything for these girls and I know they would do the same for me. We joke about it, but the club is what brought us together. The center of our friendship, a gravitational pull that links us together.
We pull up to the club, the rain still pounding on the windshield as we all look at one another. Ophelia gives us a countdown before all four of us take off towards the entrance to Capital Vice. There’s a line at the door for entry, but the moment the bouncer sees the four of us, he steps aside, unlatching the velvet barricade and making way for us to enter.
“Thanks, Lance!” I say to the big man before I reach up and kiss his cheek. Lance is, could you guess, a member of the club as well. He makes extra money here at Vice every weekend because his girlfriend is expecting their first child any day now.
“Be careful in there, sweetheart,” he says to me in my ear before letting me go inside. I give him a smile and a quick nod before I head through the tall black doors. The music is so loud it makes my chest vibrate with every drop of the bass. It’s crowded tonight—college students and locals are flooding in over the final days of summer break, and it makes the atmosphere that much more fun. I follow the girls to the bar as we all place our order for a drink. The bartender hands me my whiskey sour, and I turn to scan the club.
The large square cages that are suspended in each of the corners are packed full, as girls dance and sway to the music. Some are so drunk they struggle to stay upright. The dance floor is equally crowded, so I turn to Ophelia and suggest we go to the second floor. She nods in agreement and turns to Bristol and Frieda to tell them the plan. I grab Ophelia’s hand, and the four of us make our way to the spiral staircase in the corner of the dance floor. I prefer the upstairs level, if I’m being honest.
Once at the top, I scan the room and see my favorite table is open. Pulling Ophelia’s hand, we make our way through the crowd and practically dive into the circular booth, laughing with one another.
“What fucking luck? This is the best table up here!” Bristol yells over the music.
“Yeah, and it’s my favorite table at that!” I yell back, giving her a high five when the waitress approaches us.
“Hey, Skylar! How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while,” I say to my favorite waitress here at Vice. Sky is a tall brunette with the most captivating smile; it’s no wonder Saxon has it bad for her. I stand, giving her a hug. She gives me a tight squeeze back.
“It’s so good to see you, girl. I’ve missed you,” she says in my ear before we pull away, but not before I notice the haunting smile she gives me. Grabbing her shoulders, I give her a look of concern before she gives me a nod of reassurance.
“So, girls, what are we drinking tonight?” She gives each of the girls a warm smile. I give myself a mental note to ask Saxon what’s going on between them. The four of us all but finished our first round on our way up here and place an order for our second.
“Vodka soda, please!” Frieda says first.
“Ohh, same, please!” Bristol agrees.
“I’ll have a rum and coke, please.” Ophelia puts her hand up with my order.
“You got it ladies; I’ll be right back.” Sky leaves us, and I turn to my best friends, who have all started to sway to the music. It’s EDM night at the club, my absolute favorite night.
“Come on, let’s dance!” I yell at the girls. The four of us stand up and head to the floor. The music is so loud it helps drowns out the haunting memories that always find their way back in every year around my birthday. I close my eyes, letting the music seep into my core, moving and swaying with my four closest friends as we all let go and feel the energy of the night blanket over us. I needed this night. I needed this feeling of absolute freedom from everything around me. No stress from the upcoming semester, the club, or the emptiness I feel with every birthday since my father died. My heart and soul needed this escape, and I couldn’t be more thankful to Ophelia for arranging this evening.
Opening my eyes, I grab hold of my best friend and hug her so tight she squeals in my ear.
“Thank you so much for this,” I whisper in her ear. She pulls back, giving me a smile. Her mouth is moving, but I can’t hear her from the sound of the music. We both laugh and embrace each other again before going back to dancing. A moment later, I see Sky delivering our drinks to the table, and I grab the girls as we all head back. Falling into the booth, we grab our drinks, each taking a sip before allowing the harsh liquor to burn its way down our throats. Sky is always a little heavy on the alcohol, but we never complain. We prefer it.
Taking another sip of my drink, I catch a glimpse of a man standing at the bar. His dark eyes meet mine for a split second before he turns toward the bar, grabbing his beer and continuing his conversation with the man beside him. My eyes roam over his body as he leans into the bar top. His broad shoulders stretch his black shirt across his back. I half expect him to bust out of the fabric at any moment. He’s wearing dark blue jeans that accentuate his ass in the most delicious way. As my eyes roam up his legs, I stop at his forearms. The veins that rope around his arm and stretch across his hands have me staring at his fingers that are loosely holding the neck of his bottle.
I get a jab to the ribs. I wince and turn to Ophelia.
“Ouch, what was that for?” I yell over the music. But the moment I turn my head, I’m met with a pair of silver, animalistic eyes making their way towards me.
“Fuck, already?” I moan, just as Saint and Saxon breach the top of the stairs and make their way towards our table.
I steal another glance towards the bar, but the person I was hoping was still there is now gone. Just my luck.