Six #2
I nod, slowly refolding the bill and tucking it into the waistband of my skirt with the rest of my tips.
“And people say servers are underpaid.” She smirks. “Now you have no more excuses: We have to celebrate!” She wriggles on her stool, excited.
“Definitely,” I tell her with a smile.
“What club were you talking about, Leila?” Tiffany asks her.
“It’s called ClubSeven,” Leila explains.
“ The ClubSeven?” Tiff exclaims, her face disapproving.
“What is it?” I ask.
“A nightclub full of maniacs. The people who go there are rotten to the core, and you can’t trust any of them. It’s not safe to go there alone. Plus you have to be twenty-one to get in, and none of us are.”
“You’re not wrong about that, but I know the bouncer, so our ages won’t be a problem. And we wouldn’t be alone,” Leila retorts, trying to suppress a grin. “My brother’s there.”
My breath catches. Thomas is there?
“Oh…” I manage, not sure how I feel about this.
“So…should we go?” Leila asks again.
Tiffany looks my way, letting me decide.
I just shrug, because I don’t want to seem like that girl .
The one who gets all clingy and depressed when she’s away from her boyfriend, or stalks him to make sure he isn’t doing anything he shouldn’t.
I can’t deny, however, that I do have an intense desire to see Thomas, and knowing that he’s out at a nightclub doesn’t make me feel very relaxed.
And there is definitely a part of me that would like to keep an eye on him…
Okay, so maybe I am that girl after all. Damn it.
I sigh, giving in to temptation. “All right, let’s go.”
***
Before going to the club, we take a small detour to Leila’s dorm on campus, near the Marsy.
She offered to lend us some of her clothes, because even if she does know the bouncer, we should still at least look twenty-one.
Tiffany chooses a ruched blue bodycon dress, which she pairs with heels in the same color.
Leila goes for a darker look: a fitted skirt made of burgundy leather and a lacy black crop top under a studded jacket, along with a pair of biker boots.
I want to be daring but not too daring. So I pick a red dress with thin straps and a generous sweetheart neckline.
The satin fabric hits me at midthigh and hugs my body perfectly, highlighting the curves of my hips and my round butt.
According to Tiffany, the contrast between the dress and my long black hair (which I have decided to wear down) creates a “bombshell effect” that’s going to draw everyone’s attention.
Even though I’m only really interested in catching one person’s eye.
When it comes to shoes, though, I remain faithful to my Converse. It’s not the best combination, I know, but I like it better this way.
I pay close attention to Leila during the entire hair and makeup operation to see if I can glean any hints about her mood.
After what she told us at the bar, I can imagine she’s not in a great place right now.
But I can see that she is similar to her brother in this: they both tend to appear outwardly impassive and unaffected, while inside of them a war is raging.
Shortly thereafter, we arrive in front of a club illuminated by a large neon palm tree with the words ClubSeven flashing intermittently underneath it.
We can hear the muffled bass even from outside.
I tug the edges of my short jacket tight against my exposed chest and look around at all the people.
They linger in small groups, smoking, laughing, and talking.
Here and there, kids perch on the hoods of parked cars while an endless line snakes out the front of the club.
None of this seems to be a problem for Leila, who motions for us to follow her and moves to the front of the line, ignoring the shouted insults and protests of the people who have been waiting for who knows how long.
When we reach the entrance, we are met by a mountain of a man, his bulging muscles highlighted by his tight black T-shirt.
His close-cropped hair gives him a tough look.
Tiffany and I exchange a “not bad” eyebrow raise.
“Hey, Marcus,” Leila exclaims. “Did my brother get here yet?” she asks, rummaging in her clutch for something.
The bouncer nods. “About an hour ago.”
Leila’s face lights up in a triumphant smile. “Fantastic!” She leans in close to Marcus’s ear and whispers, “Do you think you could let us in?”
The bouncer looks skeptically at Tiffany and me. “You I can,” he says to Leila. “You two need to show ID,” he orders, pointing a finger at us.
Shit .
“Come on, Marcus. They’re my friends. We’ll be good,” Leila says, giving him a look that would soften a pack of angry hyenas. But he just shakes his head, unmovable.
“You know the rules, JC. You can come in, but they can’t, not without ID.”
“Who the hell is JC?” Tiff whispers into my ear. I shrug, having no idea.
“Listen, Marcus, she’s my brother’s girlfriend,” Leila adds, pointing at me, and my heart leaps. “And the redhead has a date with Martinez. They’re waiting for us, and we’re already late.”
Hold on a minute… Martinez?
Is this the same Martinez that Thomas and Blake were talking about in the cafeteria?
Marcus frowns, looking surprised. “The guys didn’t tell me anything about that.”
Leila nods firmly and takes her cell phone out of her clutch. “But it’s true, I promise you. So are you going to let us in, or do I have to call them to come get us? You know how Martinez doesn’t like to be bothered.”
He studies us carefully for a few seconds, cocking an eyebrow, before giving up. He takes our right hands and stamps the backs with the name of the club. Then he unhooks the rope that cordons off the entrance and lets us through. As we pass, Leila gives him a cryptic smile, which he returns.
The thought occurs to me: Is it possible that those two are…?
I shake my head . Don’t ask questions, Vanessa. This is a Collins we’re talking about; just don’t ask questions.
“Give it to us to straight: You fucking that bouncer?”
My eyes bug out and I whip my head around to give Tiffany an admonishing look.
“No,” Leila answers, laughing. “Honestly, after what happened with your brother, I have a hard time trusting men,” she finishes in a meek and suddenly insecure tone that causes an uncomfortable silence to descend upon all of us.
Tiffany stops suddenly, looking devastated.
“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.
I know it might not mean much to you, but I’m not like him.
Well, we are twins, so I am like him in some ways.
But you have to believe me when I tell you that I have never been more ashamed than I was when I found out what he did to you.
” She gives me a sad look. “And what he did to you,” she adds.
Tiffany takes Leila’s hand and smiles at her.
“It doesn’t matter; it’s over now. And I really like you,” Leila tells her, making us all smile.
“Why did the bouncer call you that name?” I ask her as we walk through the long dark tunnel that connects the external and internal entrances.
“JC?”
I nod.
“It stands for ‘Junior Collins.’ My brother always calls me that, and Marcus overhead it once, and now everybody’s calling me that or ‘Little Collins.’”
“And who is this Martinez?” Tiffany interjects.
“He’s the owner’s son. He does some…business out of the club.”
The way she says “business” is very suggestive.
“What, is he a drug dealer?” Tiffany asks in surprise. Leila tells her to lower her voice, immediately confirming that Tiffany’s suspicion is correct.
But…why is Thomas hanging out with drug dealers?
“And what does that have to do with us?” I ask, although I’m a lot more curious what it has to do with Thomas.
“Oh, nothing. I just had to make up an excuse on the spot to make sure Marcus would let us in.”
The hallway forks at the end of the tunnel. Leila guides us to a black door on the left, while I look curiously at the line of mostly boys waiting on the other side. The only thing I can see ahead of them is a red curtain. “Hey, what’s on the right?”
Tiffany and Leila both turn to look and the latter replies, “Oh, that’s where the strippers perform.”
“You mean this is a strip club?” I ask, incredulous.
“Something like that,” Leila confirms, chuckling at the shock on my face.
“But there are minors in that line. Is that legal?”
“The word legal is open to a lot of interpretation when you have the right connections. Trust me, the less you know about it, the better. Let’s go.” She takes my hand, and I grab Tiffany’s tightly as we walk through the black door.
As soon as we enter the club, we are hit by a wave of heat generated by the huge crowd of people jumping around and going wild to the pounding beat of the dance music.
Beams from a strobe light blind me, it stinks of alcohol and smoke, and it’s so loud, we’re forced to scream to hear one another.
Tiffany was right; this place is a jungle.
“Let’s go get something to drink!” Leila suggests.
“I’m down!” Tiff answers.
Before I even have time to decline the invitation, I’m being dragged over to the bar.
Leila rests her arms on it, summoning the bartender with a wave of her hand and shouting something in his ear.
Moments later, three beers slam down in front of us, each with a slice of lime jammed into the neck of the bottle.
We toast each other and drink. I feel a rush of adrenaline; the music is roaring so loudly that I can feel the bass vibrating in my chest. I lick beer from my lips and turn to Leila. “Do you come here a lot?”
“No, not that much.”
“What about…your brother?” I ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.
“He definitely comes here more than me. There’s nothing else like this in Corvallis, so sometimes the guys come here for some entertainment.”
Sure, “entertainment”…
I sip my beer and look around, but I suspect it will be impossible to spot Thomas among all these people. I’m just about to let my thoughts completely spiral when Tiffany grabs my hand and drags Leila and me both onto the dance floor.
“We are here to have fun,” she shouts at me. “So quit thinking and have some fun!” Tiffany lets loose to the music with moves that make both Leila and me burst out laughing. I envy her vitality, her ability to enjoy herself, to be with other people and just dance without caring about anything else.
Leila joins Tiffany, and I force myself to let go as well.
The three of us dance, waving our arms in the air, moving our hips, and laughing like fools.
Our thrashing attracts the attention of three boys.
Two of them start dancing with Tiff and Leila, and I’m left alone with the third, who puts his arm around me and pulls me closer to him.
I instantly tense up. Under the colored lights, I can see his amused grin and his lascivious gaze lingering on my cleavage.
On instinct, I pull my jacket tighter around myself and slip from his grasp.
“Gotta go to the bathroom; I’ll be right back!
” I yell in Tiffany’s ear, though it takes two attempts for her to understand me.
She offers to go with me, but I tell her there’s no need.
I make my way through the crowd, dodging a few guys who approach me before I feel someone grab my ass.
I spin around quickly, but it’s hard to identify a culprit in this crush of people. Yuck.
Suddenly, in the midst of all this confusion, I spot what appears to be a familiar figure in the distance. Squinting my eyes to get a better look, I can see a guy with broad shoulders. His arms, exposed by his black T-shirt, are covered in a series of tattoos. His tattoos. My heart is in my throat.
It’s him.