by Apryl Baker
“What’d you say your name was?” he asks.
He doesn’t trust me. Good. It’s modern America. He shouldn’t trust anybody.
“I didn’t.”
James rushes from the driver seat and I watch intently, ignoring the incessant honks behind me.
“Hey, guy, I can’t sit in traffic like this.”
I wait a few more seconds as James opens the rear door and the girls pour onto the street, laughing as if they don’t have a single care in the world. Naomi and her friend start forward toward the club’s dingy entrance, but Sera takes a second to check her surroundings. She doesn’t spot me sitting in the taxi thirteen feet away. Thanks to the shower, the raindrops on the glass reflect the outside world. Nervously flicking her tongue between her lips, she tugs her handbag onto her shoulder and walks toward the entrance of the club, toward the burly, bald-headed bouncer that blocks the door.
I instruct my driver to pull over and he does without hesitation. He asks me for my name again, but I pretend I don’t hear him as I fish cash from my wallet and slap it onto the center console. He grabs at it quickly, eager to count the money before I exit the vehicle.
“It’s all there,” I tell him, watching the girls enter the club. “Plus the tip.”
Folding the money, he stuffs it into the front pocket of his red plaid shirt and I slip from the taxi. I barely close the door before he zooms back into traffic without indicating, like a madman.
A vibrating sensation from my cellphone against my left ass cheek demands my attention and I pull it out and answer with a gruff hello.
“You left my club.” Marco’s voice is cold, so cold I’m surprised ice doesn’t seep from the ear piece. “I told you not to leave my club.”
“Did you try telling your daughter that?” I retort, storming toward the entrance.
“She doesn’t listen,” he spits. “Are you with her?”
“I’m not with her,” I say, shrugging uncomfortably in my sports jacket. “But I’m near her.”
Marco simmers in the silence. Through the phone, I hear him tapping something, apparently in thought. “She’s safe?”
“She’s safe.”
“And you’ll bring her home before two?”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “She’ll be home before two.”
Within four feet of the door to the club, I’m stopped by the bouncer, his humongous palm spread, forbidding me from entering.
“What?” I ask him, frowning.
He doesn’t say a word. He just shakes his head at me. What the hell? I’ve never been denied entry to a nightclub before. What is it? Is it the way I’m dressed? I bet it’s these damn leather shoes.
“You got a problem, Ben?” Marco asks and his gravelly voice gives me an idea.
“This Neanderthal won’t let me inside the club your daughter’s at,” I tell him. “Obviously, he doesn’t think it’s important that I get inside.”
“Put him on the phone,” Marco demands and I hand my cellphone over.
The bouncer hesitates, however, before taking my phone and holding it to his massive, cauliflower ear. He grunts his hello, but his spine straightens the second he gets a response. His eyes widen, his jaw clenching.
God. Having the kind of power Marco does must feel magnificent.
“She paid me…” he grumbles, “…to not let the douche in the sports jacket inside if he shows up. Okay…yes. Okay…all right…”
Douche in the sports jacket? Nice.
The bouncer hands me back my phone and steps aside. I press my phone to my ear.
“If you lose her, Ben Campbell, tonight will not end well for you.”
My lips twitch as I fight a smile. “There’s no way your girl is getting away from me, Marco. Not tonight.”
He hangs up and I slip my phone back into my pocket and enter the nightclub.
Sera
I let my annoyance with Ben consume me for a good hour before I toss the thoughts of him out of my head and swallow my fourth shot of tequila. The bartender knows who I am. He used to work for my father, but he doesn’t bring it up. He didn’t even card me when I ordered the first round of drinks.
I’m being stupid tonight. Reckless. Dad’s gonna kill me when he sees I’ve been drinking, but I’m over caring and I’m going to need the booze if I’m gonna get through telling him that I ditched Ben hours ago.
Can’t wait to see what my punishment is this time. Insert sarcasm here.
“You’re not dancing!” Naomi screams in my ear as she falls against the bar.
I laugh at her and her sloppiness. She’s never been able to hold her booze well. Who was that guy from weeks ago? Ben’s friend? I tap my finger against my empty shot glass and it hits me. Chad. Naomi never boned Chad because she was too busy throwing up. Instead of the revenge fuck she’d been planning since her boyfriend of four years cheated on her, she spent the night half-naked with her arms wrapped around a toilet. Typical Naomi shit.
“I don’t want to dance,” I shout back, swaying on my seat.
I see her clearly…or at least I think I do. Her red lipstick is smudged and her lips are swollen, the telltale sign of an epic kiss. Or a shitty drunken one.
“You do! You do!” She snatches me by the wrist and tugs me off my stool.
My handbag falls to the ground and I shout at Naomi. “Wait!”
She releases my wrist and I stumble, falling to my knees on the gross club floor. I’ve long since let my hair out of its bun and it falls around my face, sticking to my damp skin.
Giggling, I grab my handbag and pick myself up. I slam my handbag onto the bar, toward the bartender, the one who used to work for my dad.
“Can you look after this for me?”
He scratches at his short, blond locks and I see the terror in his eyes. He’s worried because I’m drunk off my ass and he’s the one who’s been serving me all night. Lucky for him, no one is here to see. I narrow my eyes at him and he takes my bag with a hesitant nod.
“Good boy.”
I turn around and Naomi takes my hand, I let her escort me onto the dancefloor and it’s hotter here than it was at the bar. I breathe through my mouth and I taste everything. Deodorant. Booze. Sweat. I’m sure I’d find it gross if I was sober, but right now, it’s an airborne drug, inciting arousal deep within me. Naomi presses her hard body against mine as we dance. Her hands roam me, from my hips to my breasts, and I don’t mind it. We’ve touched each other before.
Sexually.
Experimentally.
It was fun, but we decided after the first time that it wasn’t something we particularly craved with one another. Unlike my night with Ben…
Hell…I’ve never felt so good.
I try to imagine Naomi’s hands as Ben’s, but they’re too soft, too feminine. She can’t touch me the way he touched me. His hands were powerful and relentless, roaming every naked inch of me.
Soon, Naomi’s hands fade from my body and new ones come. Hard ones. Manly ones. The stranger grinds against me, his jeans rubbing the back of my bare legs. Whoever he is, he’s easier to imagine as Ben. I keep my eyes closed and continue to dance. Not for him, this…this stranger, but for who I imagine this stranger to be. I can count the amount of people I’ve had sex with on one hand and Ben dominates them all. From what I can remember, and I hope it’s not just the drunk haze, he completely claimed me, and in that moment, I’d never felt so pretty, so wanted. That in itself makes our rebellious night worth every risk.
The stranger touches me all over and I allow it, placing my hands over his. I pretend he’s someone else, as they travel the length of my body, pinching and squeezing. Arousal builds deep within me for all the wrong reasons, and if I don’t sort it out, it will drive me fucking crazy. For a brief second, the stranger’s hands fall away, but they come back firmer than ever…and larger than before. I open my eyes to gain clarity of the situation, wondering if there are more than two hands on my body since the large expanse of his palms cover a
lot of ground. His hands can easily be mistaken for Ben’s. I wonder if his lips can too.
I try to turn around, but he pins me against his torso, his thick arms trapping me against him. That’s when I realize that gone is the rough sensation of denim against my legs, replaced by the soothing feel of expensive, Italian wool.
“You’re not being cooperative, Seraphina.”
I startle, my blood hotwired by the aggression in his tone and then electrified by the use of my full name.
Ben-Goddamn-Campbell.
How long has he been here? Has he watched me all night? Watched me tip back shot after shot? I paid that fucking doorman three hundred dollars to keep him out.
Ben cranes his head, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. The hair on the back of my neck reaches for him, like they’re scraps of metal and his lips are magnets. “I was going to let you enjoy your night in peace, but you can’t get away with dancing like that. Not with him.”
He holds me tightly in his grasp and my eyes flutter shut, allowing myself to melt into him. I shouldn’t. I normally wouldn’t, but he feels so perfect against me. Better than ever. Would he do it? Do me? What if I begged? What if I forced myself on him like I did that night we spent together?
Maybe I shouldn’t look at having him as my guard as a bad thing. Maybe it’s a good thing. A very good thing.
I open my eyes as I succumb to a sudden wave of sobriety.
This is Vegas…
…and my father owns Vegas. If anyone who is anybody sees us like this, Ben is as good as dead. The whole reason I’m being so difficult, the whole reason I’m keeping him at arm’s length is because of that. If I was anyone else’s daughter, I’d be chasing him, not pushing him away.
I struggle against him and he lets me go. I whirl on my heel, losing my balance. Cursing, he snatches my wrist and tugs me upright.
I snatch my limb back with a scowl. “Don’t touch me.”
“Don’t touch you?”
“Yeah.” I straighten my dress and flick my hair. “You heard me.”
“Fine. I’ll let you fall on your ass next time.”
I narrow my eyes. The neon and the strobes surrounding us flash their colors, the brighter ones lighting his handsome features. When the beat slows, the colors don’t flash as much and shadows pool in the hollows of his face, making him look more like one of my father’s men than I’d like him to. It strikes me then, as I stare into his soulless eyes, that I don’t know a damn thing about him. The fact my father sees something in him should be a warning sign. He doesn’t go around hiring good guys, after all.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I shout over my shoulder as I whirl on my heel. “Is that okay, or do you need to hold my hand?”
“Ten minutes. Then we leave.”
I mock him, pulling a face as I push my way through the crowd toward the ladies’ room. Thankfully, there isn’t much of a line and I waltz right in. Five of the seven stalls are unoccupied and I choose the one that’s the least gross and I do my business. The bathroom fills up within minutes and soon there are women screeching and laughing, some of them crying uncontrollably. My head spins as I finish my business, push myself to my feet, pull up my panties, and flush the toilet. I sway on my feet. It’s slight, but enough for me to feel intimidated by the height of my heels. Maybe it’s time for me to go home. If I get drunker than this, there’s no way I’ll be able to hide it from my father. I adjust my dress and fumble with the toilet door latch until it finally opens. I ignore the gaggle of girls as they throw themselves around the room, leaning up against whatever stable sliver of tile and porcelain is free. On the plus side, the bathroom now smells like perfume.
I wash my hands in the basin and dry them with a paper towel before exiting. Outside in the hall, the line of girls begins to stack up. Thank God, I got in when I did.
“Hey.” I’m stopped before I can even start forward.
I lift my head to the man in front of me, cringing at his bright red button up shirt he’s rolled to the elbows of his slender arms.
“Hello.”
Two women cuss at me as they squeeze between me and the door and I shrug it off with a step to the side, intending to bypass the unknown man who’s come out of nowhere.
“Sorry.” He touches my bicep and I pause. “My name’s Jacob. We were dancing together…before your jealous ex showed up.”
I quirk an eyebrow, but quickly squash it. A jealous ex? Is that how Ben looked? The thought ignites butterflies in my stomach. As quickly as I can, I take in the man’s boyish face and broad shoulders. He’s not ugly at least, but he’s not the type I’d go for. I like dark eyes, not baby blues.
“Oh.” I touch my hair, glancing down the corridor. “Sorry. He can be a little…intense.”
Where is he, anyway? Surely my father told him to chase away any boys that look me in the eye too long.
“You don’t need to apologize.” Jacob’s purses his thin lips as he scratches at the back of his head. It draws my attention to the copious amounts of gel he’s used to slick back his blond locks. “You wanna get out of here? Clear your head a bit?”
I lean back, swaying ever so slightly. I may be under the influence, but I’m not that under the influence.
“I’m not sleeping with you, if that’s what you think.”
He flashes me his palms, a calming gesture, like I’m some wild animal he’s worried will flip out. “Furthest thing from my mind, promise. I’m just offering to help give you a little space between you and him. That’s all.”
I narrow my eyes, suspicious. “That’s all, huh?”
“Unless you want to leave with him.”
I snort. I can imagine it now, the awkwardness of it all. And he is mad at me for dancing with Jacob. You know what? Fuck it. One last ditch effort to save Ben’s life.
“Fine, but I’m bringing my friends.”
“That’s okay with me.”
I agree to meet Jacob by his black Mustang in the club’s parking lot once I’ve rounded up Naomi and Karen. Naomi isn’t hard to find. She’s dancing on a table barefoot with a bottle of booze clenched in her hand and a security guard shouting from three feet away. He can’t reach her. She’s created a moat of adoring fans around her.
I grab my bag from the bar and use it as a battering ram to get through. I shout her name and she spots me immediately.
“Come on!” she shouts, a glistening liquid rolling from her lips and off her chin. “Dance!”
“I’m leaving!” I shout back. “Are you coming?”
Naomi glances around. “We’re thinking about going to a casino soon. You don’t want to come?”
I shake my head, aggravating a brewing headache at the back of my skull. I can’t have fun here. Ben might have been my acquaintance first, but now my father pays his bills, who knows what information he’ll pass on. At least no one is watching me in my room at home. It’s the one place I have privacy. The average twenty-year-old American girl would feel suffocated, but I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. It’s just the way it is for girls like me.
I wave Naomi off and she promises to call me when she gets home so I know she arrived safely. It’s funny. I’ve gone out a lot with my friends over the years, but we always end up going our separate ways at some point during the night. Sometimes by accident. Others on purpose. I honestly don’t know why I bother going out anymore. I simper. I’m twenty and I’m already sick of the nightlife.
Surprisingly, I don’t feel Ben at my back as I make for the club’s exit. Since I arrived, the bodies in the club have doubled, maybe even tripled, but I look the same as at least ten other girls in there. I bet Ben the newbie is having a hard time trying to pin me down.
I’ve never left a club with a guy before, excluding Ben of course, but Jacob is my last shot at getting Ben fired. When I show up at home without James, in the passenger seat of a car driven by a random boy I met at a club my father doesn’t own, and drunk, there’s no way my father will keep Ben on. H
e might get an ass beating, but he’ll recover. At least he won’t be found buried under six-feet of sand years down the track and he’ll have me to thank for that.
Outside, the air is thick with moisture and it clings to my skin. As I walk along the sidewalk toward the parking lot adjacent the club, I start to doubt my plan. I could be getting myself into a lot of trouble…and not from my dad. I don’t know Jacob…I don’t know if he’s under the influence of alcohol or drugs, and I sure as hell don’t know if he has a history of violence or sexual assault. Tonight could end really badly for me.
Granted, leaving the club with Ben that night could have ended badly as well, but there was something about him that made me feel safe. He could have driven me away in a van that had “free candy” sprayed in red up the sides and I still wouldn’t have questioned his intentions
While Jacob looks friendly enough, I didn’t get that same “safe” vibe and that, suddenly, makes me uncomfortable.
I glance down the main street, looking for James. When he dropped us off, he pulled into a two-minute zone. While my father’s men would cut the fingers off any tow truck driver or law enforcement officer that dare lay a finger on their cars, James is different. He’s an old man that respects the law and follows the rules. He’s been my driver since I was a little girl and my father trusts his driving skills wholeheartedly. Knowing all of this about him, it’s safe to say he’s parked the town car elsewhere. Pausing, I open my handbag and pull out my new phone. Sure enough, James has texted to let me know he’s parked around the back when I’m ready to leave. I’m thankful my father only depends on James to drive me around and not to protect me. I can’t stomach the thought of James getting into trouble because of something I did.
I turn into the alley, eager to find James instead of Jacob as second guesses plague me.
To my left, a car door clicks open. “Hey!”
I slam to a stop and squint through the murky, yellow streetlight at the red-draped arm that waves in my direction.
“Over here!”
Shit.
“Where are your friends at?”