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We stayed quiet until Dacia finally said with a sardonic edge, “Confirmed, Mayor Hill.”
“Thank you, my sweets.” With a jounce to her step, she walked out of the office after patting both of our heads like two loyal dogs. Ironically, in a way, that’s exactly what we were.
The office was charged with tense silence. I didn’t want to talk about Armel because I’d burst into tears. His kind face played in my mind like a film; I could not believe he was dead. We had so many memories with him. Armel taught me how to climb a tree, how to drive, and how to throw a punch if I ever experienced unwanted male attention.
One look at my sister, and I could see her struggling to maintain her composure. She had an unwritten rule where she refused to cry in the presence of others.
With a thick quality to my voice, I asked, “Do you have plans tonight or would you maybe like to watch a movie with me?”
I wanted to bring back some sense of normalcy and stop thinking about a potential serial killer on the loose.
“Sure.” Dacia gave me a tired smirk. I knew tonight we’d both lock ourselves in our rooms and wail into our pillows over Armel’s passing. “Let’s ask Berto to join us. He’s probably eavesdropping outside of the office.”
I got up with her and wiped my tears. “Sure.”
True enough, Alberto was standing outside with a glass cup in his hands—an old trick to listen into our conversation—and a mock-innocent look on his face. Dacia and I exchanged playful smiles. Alberto was the only person who would never abandon us. His antics were really his way of showing affection for the Hill siblings.
Dacia threw an arm around his middle and cuddled him. “My big Berto. I’ve missed you today.”
He laid his wrinkly face against her head. “I’ve missed my two favourite people in the world as well, Miss Dacia.”
“Want to have a movie night and eat junk food with us, Berto?” I wiggled my eyebrows. “We can eat all the butter biscuits you want and listen to you dissect Alfred Hitchcock movies.”
His chin trembled with a frail grin. “I would love that more than anything, Miss Darla.”
CHAPTER 4
Wicked Games
Darla
The bachelorette party pulled up to Fredview Strip, right in front of the nightclub, a little after 11:00 p.m. The party bus was packed with cheers, chardonnay, and a tipsy Ella swirling around the strip pole, showcasing old moves that were reminiscent of our cheerleading days at St. Victoria. The girls—Anna, Dacia, Gabby, Hera, Layla—and I burst out laughing as she swayed and knocked off her tiara.
My best friend was buzzing with vibrant energy, her cheeks rosy and her eyes alight with excitement. If the wordlovecould ever be drawn, Ella was the personification of it tonight.
Seeing her happy made me happy.
Not to mention she looked like a knockout in her sultry makeup, silver heels,Bridesash crossed over her body, and a white number that barely covered her tits or ass.
Chaleur, an exclusive establishment, was actually a sex club meant to cater to an illustrious audience that fancied exhibitionism, voyeurism, BDSM, and other kinks. All of us signed NDAs and provided health check reports in order to obtain memberships, whether it be to enter the nightclub portion on the first floor or…to engage in sexual activities in the impressive three floors above.
Therefore, my new bodyguard, Felix, lingered outside the club, as he couldn’t be provided entry.
From the inside, Chaleur looked like your regular upscale club. Red and black walls with gold accents ran across the room and dim-lit crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The dance floor was half converted into a strip joint where women in scantily clad lingerie and Venetian masks twirled around poles and aerial hoops. The other half was crowded with gyrating bodies in a dark sea of flashing strobe lights. The ambiance dripped with something naughty, secretive, and entirely too sinful.
We got escorted to our reserved booth. Once settled, drinks were distributed and our circle rang with our loud celebration. We couldn’t take pictures because the club had a strict policy to protect the patrons, but that didn’t deter our excitement.
There were certain moments in your life that didn’t need a lens to capture. Just living through them was enough to embed every second into your mind. Tonight would be an unforgettable memory that would stay with us until the end of our day, like a recurring sweet dream fringed with nostalgia and the joys of our younger days.
Twenty minutes later, after Ella pulled out a thick wad of cash and made it rain on a particular blonde dancer who was doing impressive splits in her aerial hoop to the Weeknd’s “Earned It”, we were all dancing together on the floor.
Ella slung her sweaty arms around my neck, smacking a noisy kiss on my cheek. “I fucking love you, Darla!” she yelled in my ear, nearly splitting my eardrum. “This is the best bachelorette party ever. You’re the best maid of honour in the history of maid of honours!”
“Easy, babe.” She swayed and almost toppled us over. “You don’t want to break your ankle before the big day.”
“Drop the mommy act and let loose for once!” She slapped my ass. I squeaked and she laughed. The girls ganged up around us and soon, “Bitch Better Have My Money,” played through the speakers, inciting all of us to belt out the lyrics. Gabby was loud but Layla was giving her a run for her money.
“I can’t remember the last time you looked like you were having fun. You’re a whole new person.” Dacia sidled up to me after dancing with Anna, chugging a bottle of champagne. “Maybe you can even get some action tonight. I’ve already caught two men eying you on the dance floor.”
