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I pull up outside of the innocuous black facade of the club my GPS tells me is Ivory. The music is pulsing from inside, faint but noticeable, even through my car.
A cab driver gives me a dark look for occupying a spot, and I stare right back at him. He’s the one who caves first.
It takes another ten minutes before my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Myers:I’m ready now. Thank you!
I wait a few minutes. Not nearly enough to make it plausible that I left when she texted, but I’m not willing to leave her waiting in the club.
St. Clair:I’m outside.
After I’ve sent it, my thumb hovers over her name on my phone. I don’t do it. Having her name as Myers instead of Cecilia is good.
Distance is good.
But distance is an illusion, I realize, watching her step out of the club. She has an arm wrapped tightly around her friend, the dark-haired woman who’d served as our witness. The artist I’m to patron.
I lean across the empty passenger seat and lower the window. “Myers!”
Our eyes meet. Her dark hair is loose and curled around her face, a messy tendril falling across her cheek. She gives me a wide smile. Like I’m her favorite person ever.
“There he is!”
Her friend laughs and they walk, still entangled, to my car. Both of them.
I’m frowning as they help themselves into the backseat.
“Hi,” Cecilia says.
“Hello,” her friend says.
“Can we make a stop in Brooklyn first?”
Across the river, she means. Hell no. I open my mouth to say just that, looking at her through the rearview mirror. Cecilia’s gazing right back at me. Her eyes are wide, and earnest, and… happy. The retort dies on my tongue.
“Okay,” I hear myself say.
She smiles and I look away from the rearview mirror. I drive in silence toward the Brooklyn Bridge, thankful for the lack of traffic.
I’m Steven for the night, it seems.
“Thank you for this,” her friend says from the backseat. Nadine? Is that her name? “I appreciate it.”
I glance up to see her measured look, and give her a nod in return.
The two of them exchange murmured farewells in the backseat and hug firmly. Cecilia says something against Nadine’s ear that leaves both of them laughing. I frown, knowing it’s about me.
“Goodbye!” Nadine tells me. “Thank you again for everything!”
I nod, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. I’m just about to floor it when Cecilia surprises me by getting out as well.
She slides into the passenger seat beside me with a smile, fastening her seat belt. “Thank you. I wanted to ask you if you could drop off Nadine as well, but cell reception was really bad in there.”
“Sure.”
She tugs at the tight dress she’s wearing, pulling it back down over smooth knees and thighs. “Aren’t you cold?”
“A little,” she says. “But I’m too happy to be cold.”
