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“Speaking of cool kids, we were just talking about hitting up one of the local clubs this weekend. Called Danza. You want to come?” Tori offers, leaning forward in her seat to get a good look at me.
“Oh, um…” I hesitate. I don’t normally go out on weekends, seeing as I have a daughter to take care of.
“Yeah, come with us,” Whitney presses. “It’s where all the Rosehill students go to party. You don’t have to be twenty-one or anything.”
“Fin and I are in,” Logan says, leaning forward to join the conversation as he gestures behind him to his friend.
“We weren’t inviting you boys,” Paige snarks. “But I guess you can come too if you want. What do you say, Anya? Want to come out for a night of fun?”
When I hesitate once again, trying to come up with a solid reason I had better stay in, Tammy says, “Oh, you have to go at least once. It’s one of the coolest nightclubs in Chicago.Andit’s owned by the Marchetti's.”
My heart stutters at the mention of Nicolo’s family name. Now I’m even less inclined to go.If his family owns the place, wouldn’t I be more likely to run into him there?And that’s the last thing I need.
“That mafia family that essentially runs the underground world of Chicago?” Logan asks, his copper-colored eyebrows rising toward his hairline.
“Yeah, you didn’t know that?” Paige asks with mild surprise. “That’s part of the appeal. It gives the club a certain… mystique,” she says, dropping her tone to show it’s a secret.
“I don’t know that I feel comfortable going to a club owned by the mob….” I hedge.
“Oh, it’s not like they’re ever really there anyway,” Whitney insists. “And when they do come, they all sit in a separate section of the club.”
“Yeah, they’re far too important to mingle with the rest of us lowly college students and common people.” Paige rolls her eyes for emphasis.
“Come on, Anya. As an honorary new member of the cool kids group, you have to come,” Whitney presses, widening her dark-rimmed eyes to give me a puppy dog face.
I have to admit, despite my trepidation over exposing myself to Nicolo unnecessarily, it feels really good to be invited to something with people I could actually see becoming my friends. My weak resistance crumbles as I meet each of their intent eyes looking at me.
“Okay, I’ll come,” I say, cracking a smile big enough that it makes my cheeks hurt. My aunt often tells me I need to get out more; it’s just my guilt that constantly holds me back. She’ll babysit for the night without issue if she knows it means me making friends.
“Yay!” Whitney gives my shoulder a squeeze. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”
“We usually meet up at my place beforehand to pregame,” Paige says. “It’s just a few blocks from the club, so it’s an easy walk from there. She scribbles down her address and hands it to me.
“Thanks,” I say, finally feeling like I might be finding my way in this new school.
We all fall silent as the professor enters the classroom and immediately begins his introduction as he hands out his syllabi. I have to admit, it feels kind of good to have found a group that I just might fit into, despite the clear separation between us economically. Despite their ability to afford four years of school at Rosehill College, each of my new potential friends seems grounded enough in reality to not judge me for my threadbare clothes.
And while I’m hesitantly trying to make sense of Logan’s humor, it’s not entirely outside my comfort zone. His friend, Fin, actually seems quite nice. A bit on the shy side, perhaps, just like me. But as a whole, they all seem quite nice.
My thoughts turn to the nightclub and the family that owns it. Knowing that Nicolo has somehow become entangled in my new opportunity troubles me. It shocks me to realize how easily those old wounds could be reopened, leaving me with a sense of uncertainty and insignificance I thought I’d buried years ago. And compounding that experience is the realization that my body is still so intensely affected by Nicolo’s proximity. The mere sound of his voice had sent goosebumps rippling down my arms.
I hope Paige and Whitney are right about Nicolo not joining people on the dance floor. I don’t want to know what he might think if he found me in his family’s nightclub. But dancing does sound fun. I haven’t ever been to a nightclub before, and it’s been forever since I went and did anything with friends. I just have to keep my fingers crossed that I don’t run into Nicolo while I’m there.
5
ANYA
The impressive apartment Paige rents not ten minutes from campus is big enough to fit two of the one I live in inside. As we pregame there, I find it hard to believe one college student could merit all that space. I forgo the shots that get passed around, sticking with a vodka soda because I know I’m a lightweight. With my sights set so intently on becoming a ballerina and having my daughter to think about during all my spare hours, I don’t drink a lot.
After everyone is sufficiently libated, we make our way down to the street and walk to Danza. I feel at my best wearing one of my summer dresses and a pair of heels that make me three inches taller than my above-average height, a birthday present from my aunt, and the nicest clothes I own. The slender stilettos click confidently against the sidewalk as we march toward the club, making me feel better about tonight.
A line has already started to form outside the redbrick building, telling me this must be a popular place–as if the Marchetti name wasn’t enough to clue me in. It’s not quite seven on a Friday night, and already the club must be packed. Stepping up to join the line, I listen to Logan’s newest story, which he tells with animation to keep us entertained.
“I’m telling you, the fish was larger than me, and my uncle’s howling and thrashing as he fights to reel the thing it.” Logan mimics his uncle’s movements, demonstrating the struggle of trying to catch a swordfish. “Finally, the fishermen have to haul out the nets to help him, and while they’re lifting this goliath out of the water, the damn thing leaps up out of the net and comes flopping down onto the deck, and my uncle!”
The twins howl with laughter as Paige raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Now you’re just lying,” she says.
“Hey, you don’t have to believe me,” Logan says nonchalantly, shrugging. “But I was there. I saw it happen.”
