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Fourteen
Jamie
It’s Saturday, and even though, I’ve hidden at home for the last two days, I’m going out. It’s Dana’s birthday, and I’m going to get fucked up and forget about threats from cops and compromising pictures.
I haven’t told anybody about what Jasper said or the pictures I received, not even Cam when she asked how it went. I did try ringing my dad, in fact I left him several messages, none of which he’s returned. For now, I’m going with ignorance is bliss, burying my head in the sand and hoping it will disappear. A small little part of my sensible side is screaming at me that this is not going away anytime soon, but I’m not listening because I don’t care right now.
I slip on the emerald-green mini dress, fluff up my hair and apply a thin layer of gloss to my lips. Sitting on the bed, I pull on my suede knee-high boots and finish zipping them up just as a horn beeps outside.
A flutterof unease passes through me as I exit the car. The last time I was here was with Jasper, and I hope he’s not here tonight. I have enough trouble biting my tongue on any given day, but with a drink inside me, anything goes. I really don’t want to get arrested for assaulting a detective. Brushing my errant thoughts and unease aside, I walk towards the bouncer on the door, bypassing the queue and giving him my name when I reach him.
Inside, I scan the upper floor looking for Dana, when I don’t see her, I head towards the door that leads upstairs. I’m looking around the dance floor as I go when my eyes land on someone I never expected to see here seated at a booth near the VIP door.
What the fuck is Seb doing here?
My mind scrambles with whether to turn and walk away, but before I can decide, he spots me. His eyes harden, boring into me before running his gaze down my body.
“What are you doing here?” he demands, stepping out of the booth and standing in front of me, effectively blocking my path.
“Nice to see you too, Seb. I could ask you the same thing.” I keep my voice steady, although it’s the complete opposite to how I feel.
“You need to leave, Jamie.”
“The hell I do,” I bark, voice rising alongside my anger. I’m getting majorly pissed at guys thinking they can tell me what the fuck to do.
“You can’t be here. You need to go, now.”
Before I can reply, a huge guy, with skin the colour of midnight, walks over asking if there’s a problem. Seb has his back to the new guy and can’t see as he closes his eyes, letting out a sigh.
“Hey, Tank. No problem.” Keeping his eyes on mine, Seb says, “She was just—”
“Heading up to the VIP floor to meet some friends,” I interrupt, before lifting the ruffle sleeve of my dress and flashing the neon yellow band that allows access to the VIP area upstairs.
I don’t say a word to Seb as Tank steps forward and opens the door, wishing me a good evening. But I can’t resist telling Seb to go fuck himself as I stalk past him.
I put an extra bit of sway in my step as I climb the stairs and about halfway up, I turn to see Seb still watching me. When he sees me looking at him, he steps forward as though to follow me, but the door slams shut. As he doesn’t follow me, I assume he doesn’t have access up here, and I let out a sigh of relief.
I find Dana and few of the other girls from the hospital in a corner booth on the other side of the floor. I push all thoughts of Seb from my mind, and as I take a seat, I finally take a look around the VIP floor. If I thought downstairs was extravagant, it has nothing on up here.
The colour theme is continued on this floor, but the furnishings have had a major upgrade. There is no bar so to speak, and the tables are served by waiters or waitresses. And given ours is a guy with next to no clothing and the group of guys in the booth next to us have a girl, also wearing very little clothing, I assume the choice is made based on the gender of your group. How very primitive and derogatory.
Dana hands me a cocktail, something fancy, that tastes divine. Taking another sip, I look down to the dance floor below, watching the throng of people grinding up on each other. Feeling eyes on me, I search for the reason, and it takes me two seconds to find the culprit. From this position I have a perfect view of the door to the VIP area and Seb.
I look away when someone calls my name. After that, I keep my eyes up here and refuse to acknowledge him, even though I can feel him watching me several times over the next few hours.
We drink, and we dance. I don’t engage with any men other than our naked waiter, who more than once tries to catch my eye.
As the night draws to a close and things start to wind down, I decide to call it a night. After saying my goodbyes to the girls, I chance a look to where Seb was, but he’s not there.
Happy not to have to see him again, I make my way down the stairs. Pushing through the door, Tank glares at me before offering me a smile that raises the hairs on my arms beneath my sleeve.
I walk around the dance floor, past the bar, and as I reach the other side, a hard body pushes into me from behind and begins herding me to a door on the right.
I don’t struggle. There’s no need—yet. I know who it is, and he better know what’s coming his way for accosting me like this.
Seb shoves the door open and pushes me inside. We’re in the ladies, and there doesn’t appear to be anyone else in here, but Seb checks all the same. Once he’s satisfied we’re alone, he turns to face me.
“You’re not to come here again,” he tells me, arms crossed over his chest.
