Chapter 16 – Anna
SIXTEEN
ANNA
Why did she always feel like something was missing?
Angel’s Club
“Okay, you were not joking about how popular this place is,” I said to Claire.
We were standing in line together behind what seemed like a hundred people. Claire was dressed in a short denim skirt and a halter top that tied around her neck, leaving her shoulders bare.
I was pretty sure she was not wearing a bra. The pronounced nipples gave her away.
I was a little more conservative in black jeans and a sleeveless red blouse with a deeper v-neck than I was used to.
When I’d put it on, I’d felt like it was club appropriate.
It certainly wasn’t work appropriate, you could see the top of my boobs.
However, standing in this line, surrounded by mostly scantily dressed young women – and yes, that was the first time in my life I’d used the word scantily – I could see I was a little overdressed.
Should I take off my bra?
Glancing down at my chest, I didn’t think the lack of support would help my chances of getting in the club. Especially considering I wasn’t sure what contest I was participating in. I only knew this was some kind of competition.
The bouncer at the front of the line held a clipboard in his hand and I could see certain people were moving to the front of the line, giving him their names, and he was waving them inside.
Meanwhile, the riffraff remained outside on this line, which didn’t feel like it was moving at all.
“Should we have made reservations?” I asked Claire as another foursome of girls got inside.
“Nope,” she assured me. “This is just how it works.”
Any time the door was opened we could hear the pulse of the music playing inside. Which was kind of crazy, too, but because it didn’t ever sound like the song was changing.
So, this was fun? Standing in line, watching privileged people cut in front while we could hear intermittent snippets of music.
Not to mention there was no outside bar where we could even get a drink.
Not that it was stopping Claire. She’d brought her own flask to keep the party going that she’d started in her apartment before coming here.
When I’d showed up at her apartment, she’d offered me a drink and called it pre-gaming.
I accepted a beer to be polite, but declined the shots, with E.G.
’s voice in my head about being diligent.
I couldn’t be on guard and dead drunk at the same time.
But Claire didn’t seem to have any such reservations.
“Ugh!” she groaned. “We’re never going to get in. It’s already eleven and the line isn’t moving. This sucks!”
I didn’t agree vocally, but in my mind, I was trying to imagine how this was better than watching the second season of Bridgerton on Netflix for the fifteenth time.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I took it out to see I had a text from E.G.
That was unusual. While it was no surprise that he might work on the weekends, he’d never intruded on my free time.
“Who is it?” Claire asked. She must have seen my frown and assumed it was bad news.
“E.G. He must need something. Hold on.”
“Hey! He’s famous! Ask him if he can get us into the club.”
Yeah, I wasn’t going to do that.
So it was a total surprise when I actually read his text.
E.G.: Did you get into the club yet?
Me: No.
E.G.: Go to the front of the line and give them your name.
Me: Is this a trick?
E.G.: No. I’m being nice. Again.
Me: Is this the impact of all that extra cardio?
E.G.: Geezus, Flowers. JUST GO TO THE FRONT OF THE LINE!
“What’s he texting you about at this hour?” Claire asked. “Is he making you work? Holy shit, what a jerk.”
“Not exactly a jerk,” I said and grabbed her hand. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going? We’re going to lose our place in line!”
“What difference does that make if the line never moves?” I told her, even as I pushed my way up through the throng of people who were pressed tight against a rope line, waiting for the door to open again.
I stood in front of the bouncer and smiled.
“Can I help you?”
He was big, bald and shiny, like our delivery guy.
“Is my name on the list?”
I could hear Clair half cough, half laugh behind me.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Anna Flowers.”
His blonde bushy eyebrows, the only hair left on his head, lifted in a way that suggested I was putting him on with my name.
“Just look,” I insisted.
Sure enough, he blinked and then got up from his stool and walked over to open the door.
“Have fun,” he said.
I smiled and grabbed Claire’s hand, pulling her behind me.
We were in.
The music was blasting. The place was packed. My eyes sought the dance floor and I had to agree with E.G. It looked like a lot of jumping and thrusting. And what the heck were those women doing with their butts?
I was one hundred percent certain my butt did not do that.
“Ahh! OMG! I can’t believe we’re in. I’m going to dance,” Claire squealed, and immediately tried to take off for the dance floor. Quickly, I grabbed her hand.
“Hey, we’re supposed to stick together.”
She looked confused. “Who says?”
“E.G. He thought it would be safer if we stuck together.”
“Safer? It’s a club. And why is your boss telling you what to do on your day off?”
I was about to argue that it was my boss who got us in here in the first place, but I would be having that argument with her back as she was already heading for the dance floor.
A few seconds later some guy was grinding up against her. A minute after that, it was another guy. I shook my head, realizing I was totally unprepared for that sort of close contact with drunk strangers.
If there was ever a time I was going to need a drink, it was tonight.
I made my way to the bar and squeezed in between two women who were actively flirting with guys on either side of them. I caught the bartender’s eye and ordered a bottle of beer.
Turning back to watch the dancing, I tried to take it all in. The pulsing beat of the music, the press of bodies and the smell of sweat.
Okay, pre-gaming made total sense to me now. This was not an environment for the sober.
While I sipped on my beer, I pulled my phone out. With my thumb, I shot off a text to E.G..
Me: Thank you
E.G.: Everything you hoped for?
Me: It’s really loud. And looks very sweaty.
E.G.: Sounds like what I remember. Stick with whatsherface and remember what I told you. Have fun.
Me: You’re abandoning me?
E.G.: ??
He was right. It was a stupid text. He’d purposely gone out of his way to get my name on the list so I could get in the club and have a good time. I was in my twenties. I had a new friend who I could join out there on the dance floor.
If I had a couple of shots of something, I might not actually mind having strange guys rub up against me.
No, I was probably still going to mind that.
It was just texting E.G., knowing he was out there in the universe a little worried about me, made me feel not so alone here. In this place I shouldn’t feel alone.
Me: Sorry. I’m being dumb. I’m going to go have all the fun.
E.G.: You know you don’t have to like it? You’re trying something new. But if you don’t like it, don’t force yourself because you think you should.
Me: Thanks.
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. That was good advice. It was just a night. If it wasn’t my thing, it wasn’t my thing.
I pushed my phone into my back pocket and took another sip of my beer.
An hour later I sent E.G. another text.
Me: Help!