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Bria and I circle the block, wearing our tennis shoes, and walk to where her white Mercedes is parked. I’ll change into my heels later. Her car beeps when she unlocks it. The loud sound is a reminder to my brain that I need to collect my car from my parents’ house.
Isabella and Bria left our parents’ separately, but before they got here, Bria parked her car here and got into Isabella’s. We needed it to look like they came together.
I grab the junk from Bria’s passenger seat and toss it in the back.
“Seven Seconds, here we come,” she says, starting the car.
* * *
Before Bria came over,I had her rifle through my closet and find my fake ID from high school. I’d bought it from one of Sienna’s boyfriends. I haven’t used it in years, given that I can now legally drink, but I don’t want my name to stand out to the bouncer.
I hug myself to keep warm, and the fall breeze whips into us while we wait outside Seven Seconds. Twenty minutes have passed, and the line has barely moved an inch.
And why did I think wearing a black minidress was a smart move?
My legs feel so numb that I’m waiting for them to fall off.
The college-aged guy in front of us has offered us blow four times, and the couple behind us won’t stop making out.
“Screw this,” Bria says, snatching my elbow. “I know you want to be incognito, but I’m not freezing to death for it. I’ve never had to wait in line to get into a club, and I’m damn sure not starting at mybrother-in-law’s.”
I swat at her and inch closer. “You can’t let people hear you say that.”
She opens her wallet, plucks out a hundred-dollar bill, and marches us toward the bouncer blocking the entrance. The music spilling out of the club and the crowd chatter around us drown out the click of our heels against the concrete.
The bouncer has been a real hard-ass tonight, turning away people left and right, even if they offered to pay their way in.
He pauses mid-check of a man’s ID when Bria approaches him, her hold still latched to me. His eyes do a slow roam of her body, like he’s deciding whether she meets the hotness requirement in her ribbed maroon cutout dress and strappy heels.
Bria is gorgeous. Her hair is thick and black, like mine. Her body is toned and her ass tight. She’s a gym junkie, and she considers squats a way of life.
When he’s finished with his approval, he yanks the bill from her hand.
“Just me and my sister here,” Bria says, pouting her lips as she signals back and forth between us.
The bouncer grins and unhooks the rope. “You didn’t even need to pay me, sweetheart. I’d have let your sexy ass in for free.”
Bria holds out her hand. “Then, give me my—”
I push her forward, midsentence, and he steps to the side to allow us entry into the club.
We’re in.
It’s a small feat, I know.
Bribed with one hundred dollars and a hot sister.
But I feel like I climbed Mount Everest over here.
That I outsmarted the smartest Mafia man.
The rave music slaps us in the face when we walk in. Colorful lights flash from every corner of the room. A half-dressed server passes us with a tray of drinks. It’s a job, dodging people as we move deeper into the packed club. We pass a group snorting a substance I’m sure is illegal off a pub table, then two men arguing over who fucked Michelle first.
Dark red leather booths line the walls, and the decor is similar to Benny’s room in the mansion.
The club is three stories high, and a guard stands at each stairway. The higher the level you’re at, the better your status.
My stomach knots as sweaty people grind against others on the dance floor. Their hands, lips, and tongues are everywhere on each other. The lights are low, so I wouldn’t be surprised if a few people were fucking each other.
