9
It’s Friday night, and Jun and a bunch of others are heading to the pub.
I notice the group is bigger than usual, some counselors, plus a few of the younger people from Lightbearer Ministries congregation.
Jun walks up to me as I head toward them, that mischievous, devilish glint in his eye, the corner of his mouth already twitching like he’s up to no good.
“Hey, a bunch of us are going to the pub out in town. You want to come?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m down,” I reply.
Then I spot King. He looks quite tired, heading back to his cabin past all of us. It’s about nine o’clock. He glances at the group. I look at him. He looks back, then keeps walking.
I turn to Jun. “You been there before?”
“Yeah,” he says. “It’s a different kind of pub. This one’s popping, music’s loud, crowd’s mixed, drinks are strong. Not like the quiet spots around here.”
I’m into it. “Can you guys wait for me?”
“You’re good. We’re still waiting for a few other people,” he tells me.
King must have seen the whole exchange because he walks up beside me, much taller, looking down as he leans in close. “Erica, isn’t it kind of late?”
Jun looks at him. “Are you her father?”
King glances at Jun, then pulls me aside gently.
He speaks low. “You shouldn’t go. This guy’s a bad influence on you, and he doesn’t treat you well. Isn’t he the one who hurt your feelings?”
I gently remove my hand from his grip. “I’m fine. I’m just gonna have some fun.”
As I pull away, King says, “Erica, stop.”
I whirl around on him and step back up close. He doesn’t take a step back. I have to strain my head up to look at him. “King, stop trying to fix me. There’s nothing wrong with me. Just because you want to live like the Amish doesn’t mean I do. Please, I’ll be fine.”
Before I can pull away again, King’s hand grips my arm a little harder and pulls me back.
When I look at his eyes, they look… different.
He’s breathing through his nose. There’s this energy in him that’s just different, but it’s only a flicker, his face immediately softens.
Then he lets go, just opening his fingers, backs up, looks at the ground, jaw working.
Jun laughs as he puts his arm around me, looking back at King while he walks with me toward the van.
“What the hell is that about?” he asks with an amused chuckle.
My only answer is a shrug.
King looks worried, and I don’t like leaving him like that, but what the fuck, man?
He did his own thing. Why is he upset that I’m gonna go have fun?
We have two different lives. That’s clear.
It’s not like it’s a fucking secret. He wants me to accept him for his life. He needs to accept me for mine.
The pub we end up at is definitely different.
It’s bigger, downtown, more modern. It’s got exposed brick walls, neon signs glowing behind the bar, and low-hanging pendant lights over the booths.
The dance floor is packed with colored strobes cutting through all the haze.
The bass is thumping so hard I feel it inside my actual skeleton.
The place smells like you would expect it to. Let’s see…
Beer?
Check.
Sweat? Maybe a hint of ass?
Check.
Then to mask it, the scent of fried food wafts, and everyone’s moving like they don’t have to be up early tomorrow.
Things move fast. I’m dancing with Jun at first, bodies close, laughing, but then he starts dancing with a bunch of other women.
Clearly he’s popular. Girls swarm him, and he takes off his jacket, down to his sleeveless wife-beater shirt, arms flexing as he moves.
I’m having fun myself, but I get thirsty, so I head to the bar. I’m laughing and talking with some random woman next to me about this western singer who apparently passed out earlier.
“He was with his daughter’s friend,” she tells me. “Like, full-on caught in the back room.”
“Oh my God, shit really?” I say, cracking up.
Laughing so hard I almost throw myself back, the stool tips, but the girl catches me on my left, I start laughing harder. Glancing over to my right, past some guys talking to women further down the bar, I notice…
Wait… that white hair. I’d know it anywhere.
What the hell is he doing here?
“Excuse me,” I say to the girl. Getting off the stool and almost stumbling a little, I think, Geez, am I that drunk? I can’t be. I feel good. I got this.
Walking up to King at the very end of the bar, I see what’s in his tall glass is obviously water. Putting my left hand on my hip, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
King just looks at me, turning his glass around in his left hand. Both arms rest on the counter as he sits, staring straight ahead, blinking once before his face turns slowly to look at me.
“What? I’m not allowed to be here either?”
He does have a point. I smile. “Do you want to dance?”
“No,” he says, looking at me pointedly like he’s mad. Then he scoffs, rolls his eyes, and turns back to the bar, ignoring me completely.
Shrugging one shoulder in a suit-yourself kind of way, I hear a raunchy song come on, heavy bass and explicit lyrics, and start busting it down.
Dropping low, popping back up, hips swaying side to side in a mix between a twerk and Harlem shake, ass moving in circles, back arched, rolling my body to the beat, I feel the rhythm in every joint.
I glance at King. He’s staring at me from the end of the bar counter. As he watches the way I move, he shakes his head and drinks his water, looking absolutely disappointed in me, like I personally did something to offend him.
Two guys are dancing up on me now, one on each side. Their masculine hands are all over me, one on my waist, the other sliding down my hip. The dress I have on barely reaches below my crotch line, hugging my upper thighs, clinging to my body like a glove.
When I chance another look at King, holy shit, he just looks weird.
Very scary almost. Like I’ve never seen his face look like that.
What the hell is wrong with him? Did he expect me to just be a good little angel girl and not ever have fun?
Why did he come here? He’s not talking to anyone.
It doesn’t look like he came with anyone.
Did he come here just to follow me, just to stop me and judge me with his eyes? Fuck him.
I keep dancing, rolling my ass like a dolphin into the guy behind me while the other guy in front licks my neck. I’m necking him back, closing my eyes, really getting into it.
Next thing I know, I’m being pulled away a few steps. When I open my eyes, King is there, standing, holding my arm. He leans in close to say something in my ear.
“You’re embarrassing yourself, and you’re misrepresenting the ministry,” he says.
The music is loud, but I heard him loud and clear.
“I don’t care,” I reply.
The big guy who was dancing in front of me, basically as tall as King, steps up to him.
I don’t catch what the big guy says because the music is still blasting and everyone else is dancing around us, but it’s definitely something threatening.
Basically along the lines of move away or or go somewhere.
But King doesn’t look at him. He keeps looking right at me, holding my arm, and says, “Mind your business.”
Holy shit… the way he said it. The fact that he’s not even looking at the guy when he says it makes me know King is about to fight or something, which is not like him at all.
“I’m fine, King,” I say loudly, trying to tiptoe up so he can hear me.
The guy puts his hand on King’s chest, most likely with the intent to ease him back, or intimidate him. It doesn’t move, just plants there in a gesture that says buddy, go away.
At first King’s eyes remain on me, then, hauntingly, his head slowly dips to look down to his right at the guy’s left hand on his chest. Barely moving his head, King’s grey eyes travel up to the guy’s face very slowly.
No words are needed.
The guy must see something in King’s face because he backs off immediately , removing his hand.
King blinks slowly, then looks back at me. Narrowing his eyes only a fraction, he says, “I’m not asking you.”
My pussy quivers.
Fear is the closest thing to how I feel. But that’s not totally it.