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I leaned forward on my elbows, poking my head between the front seats.
“Sorry. Guess I’ve got my head in the clouds. What’s next on the birthday agenda?”
Since it was Amy’s birthday, she was calling the shots. Most of the plans consisted of our usual birthday activities – coffee, manicures, a massage – but Amy was the youngest of our group and she’d finally turned twenty-one, which meant she had eagerly added booze and male strippers to her list with delight.
“Ladies’ night at The Honey Pot should be well under way by now,” Amy said. “Free drinks sound really good too.”
“Don’t you want to try something a little swankier?” Hannah asked. “Like the Aero Lounge. That’s retro and chic. You could have all the go-go boys you want at your beck and call in their cute boots and tight pants. The Honey Pot is so…”
“Rough,” I offered.
And a well-known pitstop for bikers and cage fighters. I’d never been there but I’d seen the crowds packed into the parking lot on Saturdays. Heard the road racers and their engines revving late into the night as police redirected traffic.
But I knew exactly why baby-faced Amy had brought it up. She wanted to prove herself, just like I did. Living with our overprotective parents hounding us to be good girls all the time, perfect little models of purity for twenty-one years…it was exhausting. And frustrating.
Sometimes, a girl just needed to go wild and see what it was like, living on the edge.
I had to admit that I didn’t feel ready to venture into The Honey Pot yet though. It felt a bit like jumping into the deep end of a raging ocean and trying to swim without a life vest or any other safety gear while the undertow threatened to pull you even deeper.
“Maybe we should save that for another time,” I suggested. “Why don’t we head back to my apartment and binge some pizza while we have a Patrick Swayze marathon?”
Amy shook her head, tilting her chin up with that look of defiance I knew all too well. She’d already made up her mind and she wasn’t going to budge no matter what.
“I’ve had my eye on The Honey Pot since I was eighteen.”
“We know, we know,” Hannah cut in. “You spotted some hot biker boy outside the bar, leaning against his motorcycle, looking like sin personified. You were at the intersection waiting for the light to change when your gazes locked and sparks flew. And you just about came in your panties when he winked at you. I’m surprised you didn’t jump his bones on the spot. You’ve been sexually frustrated and annoyingly horny ever since.”
Amy smacked Hannah’s shoulder. Hannah squawked.
“Can you blame me?” Amy demanded. “I probably missed out on an opportunity of a lifetime!”
“Please don’t tell me you’re hoping to find this guy at The Honey Pot, Amy,” I said. “It’s been years since then.”
Amy dropped her gaze and fiddled with her phone.
“I’m not looking for him exactly. But I do want to find a man who actually knows what the hell he’s doing with a woman’s body. I swear, I am done settling for mediocre sex from fumbling college boys.”
Hannah snorted a laugh. I settled back in my seat. I couldn’t exactly argue with Amy since I’d been thinking the same thing about Crow a few minutes ago. It stung a little to be reminded that I was still a virgin while my friends weren’t. I felt like I was falling behind and missing out.
“So, are you visiting The Honey Pot for the alcohol? The opportunity to get laid? Or the excitement of mingling with bad boys?” Hannah asked.
“All of the above,” Amy replied.
“Maybe we can find a man for Dani while we’re at it,” Hannah put in.
I met her teasing gaze in the rearview mirror and wrinkled my nose, showing her just what I thought of that idea. I wasn’t ready or willing to throw away my virginity to just anyone or I would have done it already. I wanted to do it with someone who made me feel safe, loved.
“To The Honey Pot!” Amy declared. “Booze and orgasms for everyone!”
“Oh, boy,” I muttered under my breath.
What was I getting myself into?
***
Fifteen minutes later, Amy, Hannah, and I were huddled together at a booth in The Honey Pot. Seeing it from the inside was a thousand times more intimidating. The noise was deafening and none of us could hear each other over the loudspeaker, the thumping bass beat of the rock music, or the raucous drunken laughter.
At the back of the bar, one long cage stretched the entire wall. Two men were locked inside, one as broad as an ox, the other lean and wiry, as they pounded on each other with bare fists. Their faces were bloodied, their bare chests slicked with sweat. People lined up next to the cage, packed together like sardines as they cheered for their favorite and jeered against the other one. I couldn’t tell who was winning since they both looked like they’d had the shit beaten out of them already.
