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“I don’t get you, Gina,” I replied, slightly amused. “One minute you act like you think Trey's a major control freak Nazi, and the next minute it’s like you’re playing matchmaker with us. What’s up with that?”
“Well, I do think he’s somewhat of a Nazi, yeah, but he’s your Nazi, Ty. For whatever reason, and even I don’t understand it, when I see you two around each other there's this hot energy that you bring out in each other. I mean, yeah, it drives me nuts when I see him go all ‘Edward Cullen’ on you, but I think you need to play it out. It could be something really good.”
“You're something else,” I laughed. I couldn’t be mad at her. I did feel better knowing that his coming to the club wasn’t to make me jealous, although I was curious about the blond he was dancing with. I took a deep breath. “Let’s get back to my party,” I said, squaring my shoulders.
CHAPTER 22
Gina and I returned to our table on the mezzanine and either no one had noticed our hasty departure or they were too polite to inquire. The bands were switching out and regular music was playing over the sound system. I sipped my vodka sonic, amazed that I was still pretty much sober after all the shots I’d taken. Luke and Rodney had met a couple of girls from a table downstairs and invited them up to party with us.
“Testing one, two.” The emcee stood at the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please? I’ve been told that we have a special birthday celebration tonight at the Sanctuary, a VIP birthday as a matter of fact.”
I looked at Gina who had her shit-eating grin going good, Ian stood beside her with the same expression. Oh, it seemed they had outdone themselves on this one.
“So,” the emcee continued, “if we could just get the little lady down here on the stage, so that our next group can give her a proper birthday shout-out for her 21 years on this planet! Tylar Preston? Come on dowwnnn!”
The crowd whooped and hollered.
“C’mon,” Piers said, gentleman that he was, “I’ll escort you down, Tylar.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, good-naturedly glaring at Gina. Piers put his hand on the small of my back and we descended the stairway. I was suddenly feeling very exposed and had to resist the urge to tug at my dress, wishing it covered more. “Don’t fall, don’t fall,” I repeated to myself the whole way down. The band had taken stage and was tuning their instruments to what sounded like an electric version of “Happy Birthday.”
My embarrassment reached its peak when I spotted Trey, sitting at the bar, directly in front of the dance floor and the band warming up. His face was unreadable.
“Here she is!” the emcee announced as he saw Piers leading me over. “And she looks fiiiine! C’mon up here, darling!”
Why did my dress seem tighter? I looked at Piers for help. He smiled and lifted me up, placing me on the stage.
“Now darlin’, the boys here in the band wanted to play you a traditional Happy Birthday song, but it seems that they've just received an offer that they simply couldn't refuse. But in order to collect on that offer, there is a stipulation.”
Oh God, is this going to get bad again?
“It seems, little lady, that you have an admirer out there in the crowd. Yes sir, a very generous admirer. He asked that the boys play a ‘spotlight’ dance for you and him only. Now you have to agree to this or, well, we give you a Happy Birthday song, and let you sing along with the boys. What’s it going to be, sugar?” He held the microphone up.
“Do I get to pick the song for the dance?” I asked shyly.
“No darling, your benefactor was very specific on that part. Seems he thinks you look “Pretty in Pink,” so is it a go?”
“Oh sure why not?” I said into the mic, to thunderous applause. The lights dimmed, leaving only a spotlight on the dance floor. I turned to Piers. No wonder he'd so kindly “offered” to escort me down for this birthday humiliation. I could be a good sport if I had to. But Piers remained standing off to the side.
“Here’s our band ‘Osmosis’ ladies and gentlemen, with a tribute song to our birthday girl in the spotlight, from the 1986 film ‘Pretty in Pink.’ This song was recorded by the British group Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. Here it is, ‘If you Leave.’”
The band kicked off the song and I recognized it immediately. The lights were fully dimmed but Piers didn’t budge. I felt self-conscious standing on stage alone, until a pair of strong arms lifted me down onto the dance floor.
I turned and looked up. Trey. I put my right arm around his neck, and laced my fingers into his proffered hand. He danced as exquisitely as he looked. I was mesmerized by his closeness, laying my head against his chest and closing my eyes, drinking in his scent, his “Trey-ness.” Some of the lyrics floated to my consciousness, and I was curious as to why Trey had selected this specific song. Was he sending a message? The lyrics were contradictory in places, just like us. Did he want me to stay? Was it just about staying one night?
“And say I will…”the song crooned.
I thought, “Will what?” and then I understood. I looked up at him, our eyes met, I got it.
“Happy Birthday, Tylar,” he whispered. “You know that I would’ve found you no matter what, don’t you?”
“I’m not sure of anything anymore, Trey. These past few weeks have been difficult in so many ways. I don’t want things to be so complicated anymore.”
He leaned down and kissed me softly as the song wound down. Thankfully, the band moved right into another song and the dance floor was once again a melee of activity.
“I want to go back to the hotel,” I said. “Will you take me?”
“Of course, I will, Tylar.”
