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CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Sabella
The queue for the nightclub stretches all the way to the bar next to the slot machines. We skip the line and head for the doorman. My heels sink into the plush red carpet with the casino logo, my calves already cramping from the unfamiliar height of the shoes. It takes all my concentration not to trip.
Ryan says something to the doorman. The man checks our ID cards and nods us in one by one.
When it’s my turn, he looks up from my ID. “First time, huh?” He hands me back my card. “Happy birthday, darlin’. Have fun.”
Colin takes my arm, allowing me to lean on him as we follow Ryan and Celeste into the club. Ryan has obviously been here before. Judging by how he cuts straight across the floor to a lounge area raised above the bar, he knows his way around.
The red, blue, and indigo lights that flash in a staccato pattern on the dance floor are blinding. It’s not even ten, but the music is pumping. The risotto I had at the restaurant sits like a lump of clay in my stomach. Ryan insisted that I eat, making me finish every morsel on my plate. It’s not that the food wasn’t good. The on-site restaurant is renowned for its cuisine.
It’s stress.
Clutching my evening bag under my arm, I pull on the hem of my dress, making sure my ass is covered. Why did I let Mattie talk me into buying this scrap of fabric? I glance down, checking that my boobs aren’t popping out. They’re not big, but the neckline gapes if I don’t pull my shoulders back.
Colin leans closer and says above the music, “Have I told you how stunning you look?”
I scoff. “Only about ten times. I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not working.”
The hairstylist dried my hair in waves and arranged it over one shoulder. My make-up is light with a dusting of golden eyeshadow and a pearly lipstick to match the dress. It’s not me. I look different. I feel different. It doesn’t help to settle my nerves.
“You’re a hottie, Bella.” Colin grins. “Admit it.”
I shove him playfully and immediately regret it when I have to maneuver the dangerous walk over the slippery marble floor alone.
Ryan leads Celeste deeper into the club with his hand on the small of her back. She’s bouncing with excitement at being out for the first time after Brad’s birth. She’s gone to a lot of trouble with her appearance, looking gorgeous in a black fitted dress with dainty silver chains for straps and platinum heels.
I take a closer look at her. Why have I never realized how beautiful she is? Her blond hair is ironed straight and tied in a high ponytail, exposing the fine bone structure of her face. The beautician did a great job with her make-up. The smoky eye shadow brings out the cobalt blue of her eyes, and the shimmery blush accentuates her high cheekbones. No wonder Ryan is holding onto her with so much possession, making a point of demonstrating to anyone looking that she’s taken.
In a gray three-piece suit and a white shirt without a tie, my brother doesn’t look too bad himself. Lighter than Mattie’s and mine, his hair is dirty blond with natural highlights from the sun. Like his hair, he inherited his paler skin tone from Dad. Mattie and I got our olive complexions from Mom.
At the VIP section on the raised platform, Ryan shows his ID card again. The bouncer unclips the cord cordoning off the area and lets us through. A waitress who passes shoots Colin an appreciative look. His fitted white shirt and tailored beige slacks show off his muscles. The formal jacket he pairs with the otherwise casual attire as well as his signature loafers gives him that distinguished edge of wealthy people who underdress. He pulls the style off with ease.
Despite myself, I smile. “I’m not the one in danger of breaking hearts, tonight.”
“No danger of that,” he says.
He means it. Even though they’ve broken up, he’s adamant about staying faithful to May until he moves to Cape Town.
Grateful to finally locate a seat, I sink into one of the transparent plastic chairs arranged around a Perspex table. The backrest is curved, and the seat is low. Getting up without flashing my underwear in the process will be difficult. The modern design of the furniture favors aesthetics instead of comfort. Now more than ever, I regret wearing a thong, but the dress is so tight that panty lines would’ve been visible.
Colin slides with considerably less difficulty onto the chair next to me. A waitress removes the reserved card on the table and asks what we’d like to drink. I open my mouth to say ginger ale, but Ryan orders champagne and sparkling water.
