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I nod and then watch as he makes his way back out onto the floor as if he owns it. And once he gets back to his boyfriend, the two of them begin to move together in this perfect way, as if their bodies are channeling the music. A mash up of one of my favorite Artic Monkeys songs with Harry Styles’Womanis playing. The beat is slow, pulsing and hypnotic.
As the song blends into another track, Simone wedges herself between the two of them and they become the sexiest threesome I’ve ever seen—make that the only threesome. Misha’s hands are caressing Simone’s hips, and his boyfriend is pressed in close behind her body. It’s beautiful, and hotter than any choreographed routine because this is natural—it’s second nature to people who were born to dance.
Absently sipping on my martini, which I can’t say tastes all that bad now, a tap on my shoulder breaks me out of my trance. I didn’t even realize I was moving to the music until the man leans in to whisper, “I like the way you dance.”
“Um, thanks?”
He looks me over from head to toe, his attention making me so uncomfortable that I gulp down the last few sips of my drink. I only register the basics on him: tall, dark and handsome, expensive smelling cologne, and a vibe that makes me wary.
“Can I get you another drink?” Before I can tell him no, he orders another martini from the bartender, a dirty martini. I don’t even know what that means but it doesn’t sound good.
“Hey, um, no thanks. I’m here with friends and I’m good, really. But thank you.”
He looks to the bartender behind us who’s doing some elaborate gestures with the martini shaker. “No pressure. But he’s already made them, so just let me enjoy having a drink with a beautiful woman and then I’ll send you back to your friends.”
Skylar Perillo on a normal day? When I say no, I mean it. If anyone tried to override me or boss me around on my home turf I’d laugh in their face. But that confidence that always came naturally to me just isn’t there lately.
The bartender pours the martinis and I take mine directly, knowing enough not to let this stranger handle my drink. I take a few polite sips as he makes small talk. He asks my name. I lie. Where I’m from. I lie. And the effort it’s taking for him to keep this up is like pulling teeth, so I think he’s actually relieved a few minutes later when I tell him I have to get back to my friends.
I walk away from him laughing to myself, giddy from the alcohol and just pondering the absurdity of this whole big city mating routine. We are a bunch of wild animals out here in the night. Dressed to impress, faces painted, everyone struts their stuff in the hopes of landing a partner. And looking down at the high heels I’ve only bothered to strap myself into once before, I have to acknowledge that I’m no different from the rest.
As I make my way to my friends, pressing myself between writhing, sweat-slicked bodies, the thumping beat of the track lulls me. I’m shaking my hips like Shakira, and don’t even realize it until Pilar starts whooping and the others join in and grab me into a sweaty group hug.
“I’m so glad you made it!” she yells over the music.
“Me too!”
Sounding downright genuine, Simone says, “And you look hot.”
I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the dress she’s wearing is similar to mine. I never questioned my fashion choices before, but now I’m pretty much always second-guessing myself.
“I like your dress,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes and leans in so I can hear her. “We look like twins. Next time we’ll have to coordinate better.”
And when she pulls back I see that she’s smiling. Aw, see that? She’s not a bitch after all.
Simone takes one of my hands and Pilar takes the other, and soon we’ve formed our own hot little threesome. The vodka has definitely worked its magic. I feel free and uninhibited, and I throw my head back and laugh when I notice that people have made a circle around us.
The strobe lights flash on and off, changing colors and making the people around us seem as if they’re disappearing and then reappearing over and over again.
The way we’re moving makes it impossible to really study anyone, but I can register eyes that express interest and some that are predatory. Out here I don’t feel like a helpless minnow surrounded by sharks, though. No, when I’m dancing I feel powerful.
Chapter Seven
Leo
What am I doing here?
That’s what I’m asking myself as the driver pulls up outside the abandoned warehouse Max has assured us is the hottest new club in the city.
One Friday night a month I allow myself some downtime. One night a month away from my job, my research, my home, my daughter—from the responsibilities that sometimes feel like they’re weighing me down.
I wouldn’t change a thing about my life because of Olivia, but still, sometimes I feel like a hamster running on a wheel.
So anytime I’m somewhere I don’t want to be, when I feel like I’m wasting my time? I resent the fuck out of it.
But tonight we played cards at Max’s house. When the weekly game is held at my place, it’s cards, beer, game on the television in the background and that’s it. Max is single though, and he makes no secret of the fact that he finds my life boring. He’s always angling to get everyone to make a night of it when he’s hosting, and while a few of the guys are always up for an all-nighter on the town, I typically bail.
