Page 6 of Restore Me


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Alcohol and dancing until my feet hurt sound like the perfect remedy for my restless body and treacherous brain that won’t stop conjuring images of Asshole Alexander staring me down in James’ office. My fingers fly over the keyboard as I jump off of my bed and head to my closet.

Sloane: Yep. See you soon! :)

* * *

Club Noir is a black-owned nightclub in the heart of downtown and just a few blocks away from James’ hotel. They have the best DJ in town on retainer and specialize in signature cocktails that cost twelve dollars apiece and can put you on your ass in five seconds flat. Needless to say, it’s extremely popular with working professionals who want a place to blow off some steam without running into drunken college kids.

Mal is pacing by the entrance when I arrive. The heels of her gold stilettos move soundlessly over the black tile floors as I cross the threshold and call her name. She squeals with excitement when she takes in my outfit: a lacy red bodysuit with halter straps I paired with a black leather mini skirt and sky-high black heels. My usually wild curls are pulled up into an artfully messy bun with a few tendrils hanging to frame my face.

“You sure you didn’t come to catch a man?” Mal teases playfully, looping her arm through mine and pulling me into the darkened entrance of the club.

“Trust me, the last thing on my mind right now is a man. I just wanted to look good. I thought it would make me feel better after yesterday.”

I stood in my closet searching for the most scandalous pieces of clothing I owned. In the end, there were three contenders: a white mini dress I’ve had since college, a backless sage jumpsuit Eric liked to peel off with his teeth, and this outfit. It took me twenty minutes to decide which one made me feel the most powerful, sexy, and in control, and when I left the house, I felt confident I made the right choice.

Judging by the look of approval in Mal’s eyes, I did.

Arm in arm, we traipse down a dimly lit hallway that spills out into the heart of the club. The dance floor is packed. A sea of bodies moving as one while a Drake song blasts through the speakers. I can feel the bumping of the bass in my chest. The vibrant energy of the crowd is contagious, reverberating through me in an instant.

“Let’s get a drink!” Mal grabs my hand and pulls me towards the bar. We claim two empty seats and place our order with an overly attentive bartender who seems to only have eyes for Mal and refuses to take her money. Her dimpled cheeks are red when she turns back to me. “So, how are you feeling about the whole Nic and James situation?”

I frown, confused by her question. Mal never wants to talk business when we’re out. I wonder if she senses that my invasive thoughts of Dominic are the reason I’m out tonight.

“I mean I’m still not thrilled about working with Satan’s spawn, but I guess I’ll have to get over it. Why?”

“How over it are you? Like on a scale of one to ten? One being ‘If I see him before our scheduled meeting on Tuesday, I’m going to lose it.’ Ten being ‘I can be cordial as long as he stays far away from me.’?”

“Given my history with the man, I would say I’m always hovering around a one. Why?”

She glances over my shoulder with wide eyes, focusing on something on the opposite side of the club. I start to turn, curious about what caught her attention, but she grabs my arm.

“We need shots! Don’t you want a shot? I need a shot!” She waves her hand in the air, getting the attention of the bartender once again and mouthing at him to bring us two shots of tequila.

“I don’t want a shot. We just ordered drinks.” I try to twist in my seat again, but her fingers grip me tight, keeping me from moving. “What’s going on?”

Her frantic energy has me on high alert. I eye her suspiciously, but her gaze is trained on the bartender who is now sidling towards us with two glasses. Mal thanks him for the drinks, fists the shot glass in her hand, and then tosses the amber liquid down her throat. She doesn’t seem remotely phased by the burn. I take a sip of my mixed drink and shake my head when she offers the other shot glass to me. When she throws mine back as well, my eyebrows shoot up.

Something is definitely going on with her.

“Why are you acting so weird?”

Mal pales at my question. “I’m not acting weird! I’m just drinking. Isn’t that what you came to do?”

Her voice has gone up an entire octave, making the words sound more like a screech than anything else.

“Cut the shit, Mal. You’re acting strange. You have been since I got here.”

As soon as I say them, it dawns on me how true the words are. Suddenly, pieces start to click together. Her pacing while she waited for me at the front of the club like we haven’t been here multiple times. The way she pulled me over to the bar to get drinks instead of ordering from the waitress circulating the room at a table like we always do. The sudden interest in the Dominic and James situation. Her downing tequila shots like they’re going out of style. Her wide, frantic eyes as she glanced over my shoulder and posed hypothetical questions about seeing him.

He’s here.

“Please don’t tell me….” I spin around in my chair, narrowed eyes scanning the room, searching for him.

“Don’t be mad!” Mal pleads. “He showed up right after you texted me to say you were on your way. I swear.”

She’s standing now, her voluptuous body, which is wrapped in a black mini dress, blocking my direct line of sight. I stand too, clutching my tiny handbag under my arm, prepared to leave.

“You could have texted and told me to turn my ass around! I came here to get my mind off of him. Not to stare at his smug face while sipping overpriced drinks!”

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