I feel more at home here than anywhere I’ve ever lived. I’d come here in the middle of the night when darkness steals the light of my existence if I didn’t think I’d get caught.
I started renting the space twelve months ago when I met the owner in a café. We got chatting, and she told me about the building. She had to find a new tenant within three weeks, or she was going to have to sell. I knew I had to jump at the chance and pray I’d get the girls through the door to afford the monthly payments.
It’s a two-storey building, so—after a lot of thought and deliberation and some unhelpful input from my friends—I converted the downstairs into an open gym. The memberships, along with my dance lessons, allow me to keep up the payments, and the owner, Erin, did me a deal to make it affordable until I had it up and running.
She completely changed my life that day, and I’m forever grateful to her for helping make my dreams a reality.
Dancing is my passion, it’s all I know, and it’s what gets me out of bed in the mornings. I’m blessed to have a career I adore so much.
I head towards the benches and pick up my phone; I have five missed calls and two texts, one from my mum and one from my best friend Lucy. I open the text from Lucy first.
Lucy: Hugh ended it. Meeting at The Pearl, 8 pm.
This doesn’t shock me, and it means tonight will end up more than a little bit messy. Hugh was no good for Luce. She’s gorgeous, a natural blonde bombshell and a hopeless romantic who longs for something far from reality. Hugh was only ever interested in a Monday to Thursday relationship.
Hugh was an ass.
No doubt Megan will be joining us to help drown in Lucy’s sorrows. I consider calling Mum back, but I already know what she wants. It’s the only reason she ever calls. Rolling my eyes, I delete her message without opening it. Chucking my phone back in my bag, I take off down the studio stairs and head for the gym, knowing I’ll regret my choice to skip lunch.
* * *
“I didn’t likethat slimy bastard anyway,” says Megan as she drains the last of her pinot, she waves her glass at the barman for another, earning herself a deep frown from him in return. I drop my head and chuckle. How many have they had? I’m only forty minutes late.
I screw my face up, thinking about Hugh and his less than stellar morals. “Me neither. He had all that extra body hair; I just couldn’t get past it myself.” I grimace apologetically at Lucy.
“Ugh, yes.” Megan snaps her fingers at me. “I swear he had hairs poking out his nose when I’d speak with him, and those arms.” She fakes an over-the-top shiver.
Lucy’s mouth drops open, and she flicks her eyes dramatically between us. “Thanks, bitches.” Her hand slaps down on the table. “You tell me this now!” We laugh into our drinks as she takes an ice cube and launches it at us. It bounces off my head and onto the bench seat, making us all break out into hysterics.
“Oh, oh, him over there with the grey tie,” Megan interrupts our laughing fit excitedly.
Lucy scans the group of suits closest to our table until she spots the guy Megan is referring to.
Her eyes go wide.
“The bald one?!” Lucy openly points at the poor guy, and I drop my head in my hands. “Gee, talk about extremes, Megan.”
Heads turn our way as we giggle like a bunch of schoolgirls, but I know this is precisely what Lucy needs right now. Untamed time with the girls is the best form of medicine, after all.
I get up to go to the bar—much to Megan’s dismay, and she tuts, shaking her head at the barman, who is completely oblivious. Picking up her glass, I turn and give her a cheeky wink. She looks gorgeous tonight; her dark brown hair is pulled back in a sleek high ponytail, her lips painted a bright red.
I love my dear friends; I’ve known Lucy my entire life. I even lived with her for most of my childhood. Her parents filled a void in my life that no child should ever need filling. Lucy moved into the city with me when we joined university eight years ago.
Andthat’swhere we met Megan. She was loud and silly and the missing piece of a trio we never knew we needed. She moved into our dorm room four weeks later, and the rest is history—sacred. Misdemeanours we’ll take to the grave.
We managed to score one of the oval booths in the centre of The Pearl tonight. We have the perfect view of the whole place from it. The bar sits along the back wall lined with padded stools; pendant lights hang above the entire bar top setting a glow over the marble counter.
I manage to squeeze in next to a woman who’s waiting for her drinks. The ratio of women to men in this place is lower than a ho’s standards.
“What can I get you?” the cute barman asks.
“Three glasses of pinot grigio, please.”
I slide onto one of the stools and look around the club. It’s abuzz with music, the steady beat pumping through the speakers and creating the perfect Friday night vibe. My eyes drift to the four large pillars that encase the marble dance floor. It sits on a platform to the left of the bar, like a stage for men to watch upon. It’s currently full of women moving their bodies with the music, probably hoping to bag one of the asshole suits for the night.
We’re so off them.
As if sensing my thoughts, I catch someone from the corner of my eye sliding onto the stool that the woman has just left.
