21
Sam
THE BOOTH SEATS WEsqueezed ourselves into smeared sticky...who knew what all over my hands. I rubbed my palms down the legs of my jeans while searching the dark club for Hill. He’d sent me a text hours ago for me to go to my post at 131stand Chestnut at 9:45. It was 9:38 now.
Paige leaned in to me to shout, “Interesting place, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Great.”
The strobe lights spun across her face and hair at a dizzying speed. She looked otherworldly. While sitting next to her, I could almost forget where I was.
Her gaze aimed down at my bouncing knees. “Nervous?”
I shook my head and forced myself to chill. No need to start flipping out. I had chosen Paige over Rose and the rest of my family. But how could I not? It’d been one, maybe two months ago since some girl was kidnapped right outside the door of the Underground Hill in front of a crowd of club-goers. Between that and the rumors about the stash of roofies hidden in the back, Paige was definitely not coming here without me. I didn’t tell her any of that, though, because her friends were already here somewhere.
Maybe Hill managed this place from far, far away, which might’ve explained why it smelled faintly of come and piss mixed with sweat pouring from the crammed dance floor. I hoped he wouldn’t put in an appearance, spot me, and say anything revealing in front of Paige.
The bass of the techno music thumped inside my chest to the same tempo as the colored lights overhead. Paige eyed the dance floor, but I couldn’t tell if she’d rather be on it or not. I didn’t care if she did, but no way would I join her. Especially to the same shitty robotic rhythm over and over. Boring as hell. Where was James Hetfield pre-2000s when you needed him?
Time to go to the bar and drown this noise out.
“Want something to drink?” I yelled.
“Water,” she yelled back.
I gave her a long, disapproving look just to see her smile then slid out of the booth, watching where I put my hands. I made my way around the writhing bodies on the dance floor to the other side of the club. A trail of hotties panted after me, but I kept an eye on Paige over my shoulder in case some pervert sat next to her.
The red, white, and blue-haired bartender tipped her chin up in my direction.
“Two beers,” I shouted.
Her eyes widened the longer she stared. Her tongue poked out to wet her lips.
Not happening, sugar.
She must’ve seen the rejection in my face, because her desperation meter shifted into overdrive. As she turned, her hips swayed a little too much for anyone who wasn’t in an earthquake. When she faced me again with two sweaty beers, she’d adjusted her cleavage so I could have a free show down the front of her skimpy shirt.
She could have been flashing a blind toad for all the good that did. I just wasn’t interested.
I paid the lady and waded back to Paige. But not before I spotted a familiar bald head bobbing through the back door.
Shit.
Instead of making sure it really was Hill, I shoved my way to the booth in the dark corner. Time to grab Paige and sneak out before he spotted me.
But two girls sat opposite Paige, which meant I would have to think of an excuse to tear her away from her friends.
Double shit.
I slid into the booth next to Paige and shouted, “The bartender said the police are outside.”
“Really? Why?” She half stood to peer over the back of the booth then plopped down again. “Are you sure?”
“That’s what she said. I think we should go.” I lifted my eyebrows, hoping she would catch my drift. Me, underage, with my fake ID in my wallet and two beers in my hands.
“I wanted water,” she yelled.
“They didn’t have any,” I said with a wink. “But really, we should go.”
