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CHAPTER 4
Istared at myselfin the mirror, turning from left to right so that I could look at myself from all angles. The mirror was special in that it folded open and created a pamphlet effect so that I could see the front, back, and sides of my outfit.
This was my first time wearing this dress now that it was complete, and I was pleased with the result. It was a long-sleeved black velvet mini dress that hugged my body and dipped low in the back exposing the skin there. A pair of black strappy heels, and a makeup look that was full of metallic golds, red lips and sleek straightened black hair completed the look.
It wasn’t often that I went out with the stylists that I worked with, maybe a few times a year. The club scene wasn’t my favorite anymore since I’d gotten all my partying out during university. That had been fun until Ric had sat me down, and scolded me until my ears bled about being careful and taking care of myself. He had been worried, and rightly so, that I was taking my issues out on myself, and that I would end up hurting myself if I wasn’t careful.
I did, however, still think that there was no rush like dancing in the middle of a nightclub without a care in the world. Besides, I had something to secretly celebrate, even though no one else knew it yet.
With one last slide of a hand over my hair to make sure that it laid flat, I grabbed my purse and headed out with a smile on my face.
Saints & Sinners nightclubwas the #1 nightclub in the city. From Friday to Sunday, pulsing blue, green, and purple lights could be seen from the top of the Stillman building even when you were standing on the sidewalk far below. It was also an exclusive club, and only the best people were able to step inside, which was yet another one of the perks of being a stylist at Polemans. We got into the places that were some of the most exclusive in the city, all thanks to the clients that we kept.
I met Zoey, Natalia, Yvonne, and Marina, four other stylists, in the lobby of the Stillman building. They all had varying shades of blonde hair and blue eyes and, well, all looked pretty similar. I secretly referred to them in my head as the Barbies, because sometimes it was hard to tell them apart...besides Yvonne and Marina were also twins, so it reallywashard to tell them apart from each other.
“Hey ladies!” I greeted them in my bright ‘Maddie’ voice as I stepped into their inner circle. People were milling around the lobby, whether they were waiting for their friends or waiting to see if the scary-looking bouncer next to the elevator would let them in.
Zoey looked less than enthused to see me, “Maddie.”
Her greeting was colder than the arctic and I knew, deep down, that she’d somehow figured out that I’d been given the Bells account.
Whelp, Madeline,I told myself.Time to turn on the shine and try to make it through the night.Plastering my bubbliest smile on my face I looked Zoey up and down. She was wearing a gold sequined mini-dress that made her tanned legs look long even though she was only five foot two.
“Oh my god, that dress is todiefor Zoey,” I gushed. Was I laying it on thick? Totally, but it worked. I watched Zoey’s previously stiff shoulders relax, and her pinched expression smooth out as she finally sighed.
“Congratulations on the Bells account, good luck working with that witch.” She smiled and, as if some kind of switch had been flicked, the other Barbies joined in on congratulating me.
“Thank you, I was so nervous when Follet called me into her office this afternoon. I’ve never worked with big clients like you have Zoey.” I appealed to her ego and was rewarded with a cat-like smile.
“Well, if you ever need help with Bells, let me know. I worked with her for five years.”
There was not a chance in hell that I would ever actually ask Zoey for help, she was more likely to stab me in the back rather than actually be of any help, but making someone feel like they were better than you was a good way to keep them from targeting you. Bullying 101. It had worked when I was being bullied in high school, flatter the bullies, be empty-headed, and be as cheerful as possible. They all gave up eventually, and moved onto targets that gave them more of a serotonin boost to mess with, and Zoey was no different.
“Okay bitches,” Zoey crowed and began to lead the way to the elevators. “Let’s get upstairs, I’ve had a shitty day, and I need a shot of tequila stat!”
We flashed our employee badges to the bouncer and he stepped aside to let us get on the elevator. It was a completely enclosed glass structure that was built onto the side of the building, so as we ascended I watched the flash of lights pass us by from the building across the way, and tuned out the chatter from the Barbies behind me.
Coming off of the elevator, we stepped directly onto the patio outside of the club. There were twenty or thirty high-top tables arranged around the purple backlit patio with heat lamps placed strategically to ward off the November chill. Club patrons, who were taking a break from the dancing inside, circled around the high-top tables, chatting and laughing while they drank cocktails that glowed under the purple black lights.
The thrum of the bass inside of the club made my insides vibrate. I couldn’t help the excited shake of my hips as we hurried inside, and immediately let the music take us away. For the next thirty minutes I didn’t think about anything, but the thud of the music and the sweaty bodies around me. The Barbies and I had all paired off with strangers, letting them touch our waists and hips as we melded together into one large mass of bodies.
Soon enough, however, the desire for something to drink far outweighed the desire to continue dancing, so we stumbled free of the throng of people and made our way to the bar. The club was set up in one long rectangle. On one end were the stairs to the VIP section, which was off-limits for nearly everyone. Only the richest and most famous were allowed to sit up on the balcony, and watch the party-goers below. Underneath the VIP section was the entrance to a long hallway where the restrooms were located, along with their obscenely long lines as drunk patrons waited to empty their bladders or vomit up the one-too-many shots that they’d thrown back.
Speaking of shots, Zoey was busy batting her eyelashes at the tattooed bartender, pleased when he put five shot glasses in front of her and filled them from a flute of Tito’s vodka. She turned around, gripping all five shots between her fingers, and we quickly grabbed them before they spilled. “Drink up, girls!” She crowed and held up her shot glass so that we could clink them all together.
Now, shots weren’t usually my idea of a good night-out drink, but I had already pissed Zoey off enough for the night. So, when the rest of the Barbies knocked back their shots, I followed suit, and hissed through the stinging burn that came along with drinking liquor straight up.
The other girls squeezed their eyes shut, and Marina looked a bit green around the gills as she, undoubtedly, fought to keep the vodka down.
“I’m going to order a cocktail!” I shouted over the electronic music and pointed at the bar, sliding onto one of the free stools. I lifted my hand to let the bartender know that I was ready to order. The Barbies surrounded me, there were only two open seats next to me which Zoey and Natalia claimed, and left the twins hovering glumly behind us.
After ordering a Gimlet, my go-to drink, I watched the bartender prepare it, and studiously ignored the look that Zoey was giving me. I wasn’t sure if drinking more would help or hurt the sore spot that Zoey was probably still nursing when it came to the Bells account, but I needed at least two more drinks in order to deal with her.
The bartender dropped my drink off, and I thanked him with a smile that he returned, his hipster beard and mustache twitching as he eyed me with interest. I’d slept with bartenders before, and the experience had been generally enjoyable, but I wasn’t looking for a hookup tonight. My goal was to make it through the evening and, hopefully, soothe Zoey’s ruffled feathers so that the office wouldn’t become a living hell come Monday morning.
“Thank you,” I smiled at him, and he watched me for another beat or two before someone down the bar called for him and he moved on.
“You know,” Zoey shouted over the din of music. “I’m surprised that, out of all of the people that Follet could have picked, she picked you to replace me. Natalia would have been the one I went with to replace me.”
