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“Yeah, great. I’ll grab us a round. What do you want?”
“Uh, I think I’ll just have water.”
“Suit yourself.”
I leave Leila in a quiet spot off the dance floor, which is really only quiet compared to the intensity of the rest of the bar, and head to grab a beer for myself and water for her.
When I get back, I hand her the bottle. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
My head starts bobbing to the music as I sip my beer. “This is great music. Don’t you think?”
“It’s good.”
“Do you want to dance?”
“No, thanks. I’ll stay here. You go ahead. Just try to stay in my line of sight in case I need an out.”
“Sounds good.”
I make my way into the crowd on the dance floor and start showing off my moves. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve loved to dance. There’s something about moving to the beat of the music that makes me feel alive. There are a few videos of me at various young ages tearing up the dance floor at relatives’ weddings. My mom loves to show one where I tear off my shirt, just six years old, and do a rendition of a song from Grease.
What can I say? I’ve always loved to put on a show. That’s probably why I’m an actor.
A few people recognize me from my movies, but for the most part, I’m left alone. This kind of club is exclusive, probably due to the ridiculous cover, so there aren’t a ton of people around, and most of them are more famous than me.
There’s space between Leila and me, and I could cut the tension with a knife. Leila has her arms crossed and a sour look on her face. She could at least pretend to have fun. She enjoyed the party we went to, which was almost as crowded as this place. Does she only hate clubs because I like them and she wants to do whatever she likes? The frustration fuels me to turn my back to Leila. She can still see me, but I’m avoiding her annoyed and bored look. I’m not letting her bad vibe ruin my night. I might be a big part of that bad vibe after my photographer comment, but that’s beside the point.
“Hey, man,” a buddy of mine, Dave, says when he spots me. “Haven’t seen you in a while!”
“Yeah, been busy. How’s it going?”
“Pretty good. Busy here, too. Lots of fires in Los Angeles County.”
Dave and I met when he was doing fire safety for a movie I was on. He’s a good guy around my age who is a legacy firefighter: his great grandfather down to his dad, all worked in the same fire station.
Dave claps me on the back. “I’m here with some buddies. You by yourself? Join us!”
“Nah, I’m with my girlfriend, but she doesn’t dance.”
I gesture over to where Leila is still standing, only now she’s not alone. A guy stands close to her, even as she backs away.
“Someone didn’t get the memo about her being yours.”
“It was nice seeing you. I gotta deal with this guy.”
“Good luck. Yell for backup if you need it. I know you can throw a punch, but I’m not so bad.”
I laugh, but my face is hard when I approach Leila.
I grab the guy by the shoulder and yank him away from my girlfriend. “Who the hell are you?” I demand.
The guy holds up his hands. “Jake. I’m just talking to this nice lady. She was all alone.”
It’s déjà vu to the first time Leila and I came to a club together.
I push him up against the wall with my arm across his chest. “You stay away from her, do you hear me? This is my girlfriend.”
“Whoa, man, easy. I was just talking to her. I’ll stay away.”
“Good,” I say, just as the flashes start. Someone takes a picture of me with this guy pressed against the wall. So much for fixing my reputation. Those pictures will hit the same old tabloids once more, and I’ll probably lose out on the auditions I just got because of it. I can’t help that my temper gets the best of me. That’s how I get into trouble, but I’m only trying to protect Leila.
I brush myself off, and Leila looks at me like she’s concerned. “What was that?” she asks.
“We should probably go,” I say.
“Yeah, that might be a good idea.”
We sulk to the car, not talking to each other. I barely acknowledge the valet as he gives me the keys to the Audi. I do slip him a twenty, in addition to his earlier tip, because I feel bad that I’m not being friendly.
When we get back to Leila’s apartment, she gets out of the car without a word. I wonder if I should just leave so we can both cool off, but instead, I follow her to the door.
