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Just me.
“You’re going to have an amazing time,” I say, stretching my smile a little too wide.
Tess threads her arm through my other arm, giving me a squeeze and an understanding glance. “Yes. Everything will be perfect.” She knows what I’ve been through. “Now let’s get this party started!”
Shannon gives an excited, “Whoot! Whoot!”
The two gorgeous redheads bookend me and we make our way down the street to where the cars wait for us. The girls both look so stunning in their sleek black gowns, I feel a bit like the double-stuffed cream in the middle of this sleek girl-cookie sandwich.
Three packed Escalades and a short drive later, we’re spilling out onto the sidewalk in front of Angels and Devils,New York’s hottest club at the moment. Our large group of dolled-up, giggling women cruises into the black lacquer-walled room, strutting across the gleaming red flooring.
I look up, taking in the entertainment.
Beautiful women in sparkling leotards hang from the ceiling, balancing in giant lit-up circles, contorting their bodies in all kinds of impossible poses while managing to keep the massive, shimmering white wings that hang on their backs untangled.
Shirtless men with oiled chests strut through the room, handsome devils offering bottle service from their trays. Horns are perched on their heads, translucent black glass lit by what looks like a real flame from inside. When they move, the points at the ends of their devils’ tails swish behind them.
Sultry music pipes through the club, couples pairing off to grind on the dance floor to a slow number. I take the shot glass Tess hands me. A flame burns from the top of the glass, rich liquor fills the bottom.
“Blow it out before you drink it. It’s called a Flaming Amy.” She purses her bloodred lips, blowing out her flame and tossing back her shot.
“Thanks for the tip,” I laugh, wondering if I’ve really been that out of it lately that she feels the need to tell me to blow out a burning shot before I drink it. I tip the warmed liquor down my throat. It’s sickly sweet and makes my stomach turn.
“Another one!” she shouts, throwing her head back and pumping her fist in the air. The Beauties surround her, passing around colorful shot glasses. I take one, knowing they’ll pressure me like schoolgirls if I try to turn it down.
This night is for me. I know that. And I love them for it.
I’m just not… feeling it. I long for the quiet poolside of Liam’s Italian country estate, a good book, and one of Marta’s famous cinnamon rolls to end the night. The girls chant a countdown to take their shots. “Three… two… one!” As they tip back their liquor, I take the opportunity to tip mine over into the trash can.
The music changes, the thump of the bass rattling my head. Tess puts a light hand on my shoulder. “Whew! That was strong!”
I make a face. “Yeah. Boy, that was strong one.”
She waggles her brows, already looking a little tipsy. “Whew! I feel warm and tingly all over. Rockland’s going to be a lucky man tonight! Come on!”
She grabs my hand, pulling me toward the throng of pulsing bodies. As the red flooring changes to the sleek wood dance floor, my heel snags on something, making me trip forward. Tess’s strong grip on my arm is the only thing that keeps me from hitting the floor.
“Whoa, girl!” She laughs. “Those shots must have gone to your head.”
“No. My shoe caught on something—” But Tess is already dancing, pumping her hips between Shannon and Hannah. I stand there, swaying to the music, but I just can’t get into it.
A drunk woman in a lime green dress who looks like she’s not a day over nineteen bumps into me. I watch in horror as the pink liquid from her glass comes flying at me. It’s like slow motion. I have no time to react and now I’m covered in the sticky drink.
“Oh my gawd! I’msooosorry. Like, so sorry.” She puts a chipped fingernail to her over-glossed lips, giggling.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” I try to smile but tears burn in the corners of my eyes. I push past her, heading to the bathroom.
The restroom attendant—a woman in a black and red gown—sees me coming and hands me a fluffy white towel. “Here you go, honey. Let me know if I can help.”
“Thanks.” I dab at the dress but it’s no use, the fabric has already absorbed the liquid and I’m left with a pink splotch in the center of my chest, reeking of rum.
I toss the towel on the counter, staring back at myself in the mirror. “This is not your night.”
Scratch that. This is not my month. Maybe not my lifetime. If I believed in reincarnation, I’d be trying to find some good luck spell to put on myself for the next time around the block.
I can’t stop my hand from going to my belly. An ache tears through me as I smooth down my dress. I just want to go home, take a shower, put on some cozy pajamas, pop a frozen barbecue chicken pizza in the oven and turn on a cheesy rom-com.
I seriously cannot handle one more thing going wrong tonight…
