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“No Black Dahlias on our watch,” Jordan chimed in, and a chill ran up my spine at the imagery.
Surprisingly, I felt safe with the three of them. I hadn’t been sure about what to expect going out with Rhomi. She was the poster girl for the L.A. party scene but had obviously seen or even been a victim of the drawback of being a young, fem-presenting person in a city that was known for chewing us up and spitting us out when we hit thirty.
Out of the darkness, the tall bouncer I’d seen escorting other patrons cleared his throat.
Jordan flashed a smile and something small and black from their back pocket, and the bouncer nodded.
“You all ready?” the bouncer gruffed, obviously tired of the monotony of his job.
“We are!” Tiffany called out and took hold of my hand without any hesitation.
“Here is your stub. I will take your cell phones and IDs. You won’t be needing either while inside. The bar is cash only, so take what you need from your purses and wallets now before depositing them in the locker.”
I shot a look to Rhomi, who was digging through her purse to take out a few hundred-dollar bills and stuffing them in her bra.
“We have to lock up our purses?” I asked low, so only she heard me.
“It’s against the rules to take photos in The Deacon. Don’t worry if you didn’t bring cash. My treat.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat. Being in a strange new place without my phone to keep me company or for any type of emergency had me grinding my teeth.
“Miss?” the bouncer said, holding out a clear plastic box for me to deposit my possessions in.
Rhomi put her things in first, and I followed. If she felt safe doing this, then maybe I was being overly sensitive. Jordan and Tiffany did the same without hesitation, and the bouncer handed each of us a small slip of paper with a locker number and a barcode.
“If you lose your stub, you’ll have to wait until last call to retrieve your things. Understood?” he barked.
We agreed in unison then watched him turn and begin walking, not worried that we wouldn’t be on his heels. With Jordan and Rhomi in the lead, we followed the bouncer into the door that had been hidden in the shadows. He paused only a moment to lock our belongings in a wall of black lockers with a scanner under each handle. I took a deep breath and buried my anxiety.
Moving deeper into the club, the bass from the DJ booth assaulted my eardrums before my eyes adjusted to the dark hallway we were being ushered through. Rhomi’s grip on my right wrist and Tiffany’s hold on my left made me part of the lifeline as the tunnel opened up onto the massive dance floor.
The Deacon was like no other club I’d seen. Black drapes hung from the ceiling, sectioning off parts of the room and creating pockets of inner corners where dancing could be one of the many activities that were going on. The most light came from the DJ booth, where flashing strobe lights pounded along with the beat of the music. Rhomi’s hookup—I assumed—bobbed up and down and side to side. Her hands were in constant motion to orchestrate the show and electrified the air with her musical masterpieces.
Though it was too dark to be sure, the sounds of pleasure rang out between song tracks. I squinted through the red and white laser lights, but with the blur of bodies and constant movement around me, it was hard enough to keep myself on my feet while being dragged toward the bar.
Once we made it to the front of the line, Rhomi shouted out an order for a round of shots and slapped money on the bar. The tall, dark-haired bartender held up four fingers to confirm, and one by one, they were passed down our row.
In a quick huddle, Jordan held their glass up. “Geonbae!”
“To friends. New, old, and reconnected,” Tiffany added then led us in swallowing down the cinnamon-flavored liquor.
The burn settled in my chest, and the warmth spread to my limbs. It didn’t take long to become comfortable with the absence of a bag or phone. The situational crutch of technology wasn’t needed here. We were living in the moment and letting the outside world trek on without us for a small amount of time.
We were absorbed into the mass of revelry and swept into the undertow. The music filled the air and commanded the sway of my hips. Where uncertainty had been only moments ago was freedom, a taste of what I had been wanting for longer than I cared to admit. I knew no one but the three people who were dancing next to me with full smiles on their faces and mouthing the words to the lyrics without any worry of embarrassment or judgment.
Happiness.
We were liberated from the world outside because it had melted away and been replaced by the pounding bass, strobe lights, and strangers who were only there to let loose.
A hand gripped my waist from behind, followed by a gentle squeeze to gain my attention. The owner of said hand was tall, blond, and gorgeous. He smiled down and said, or maybe mouthed, a request to dance. I looked back to Rhomi, who eagerly nodded her approval. Tiffany’s attention had already been stolen by an equally beautiful man with light curls.
I turned to face my new dance partner, and his hands confidently wrapped around my back to bring me closer. His taut body pressed hard against mine. With every move he made, my skin prickled at the pull of the muscles in his arms and torso. I closed my eyes and got lost in him. Lost in the heady moments of his breath in my ear between songs and the twitch of his lips at my temple when my hands traveled up and down his chest and stomach.
He was intoxicating. Everything inside of me was begging to be touched, and as if he could hear my internal anguish, he fanned his fingers up my neck and brought my face up. The club melted away, and we stilled. My eyes bolted open to find impossibly blue ones staring down into me. Deaf to the music, he feathered his lips over mine, not in a kiss but another question.
Drink?
He pulled away once the vibration from his lips ceased for my answer. I nodded and groaned silently when his arms relaxed and his hand slipped down to hold mine. He tapped Jordan on the shoulder to mime to them that we were going to grab a drink, then he pointed to Rhomi and Tiffany, who were too enamored with their dance partners to acknowledge him. Jordan nodded and held up one finger, indicating that they would accept the round of drinks from my mystery man for our group.
