“Why do people make rules?” he asked conversationally.
I shrugged.
“Control,” he answered. “And why do people need control?”
“Power?”
“Exactly.”
“Rules keep us from turning into animals. If this club had no rules, no one would pay for their drinks, and the owner would go out of business because of broken bottles and rowdy customers.”
The man folded his arms and tilted his head. “In Greek mythology, Chaos was the first thing to exist. Without Chaos, there would be nothing.”
“That’s fiction.”
“Maybe you should go home and read about the chaos theory.”
“You mean the butterfly effect? Bugs can’t create hurricanes. I’m not buying it.”
“You can’t know that, and it’s beside the point. Nothing in this life would ever change without chaos, and I’m not talking about revolutions and the downfall of the higher authority. Chaos isn’t about good or evil; it’s about unpredictability. Aren’t you ever inquisitive about the effect of your actions, no matter how small?”
“My job lets me see the results of my actions.”
He ticked his index finger back and forth like a pendulum on a metronome. “That’s not the same. That’s predictability. The same way coming in and ordering a drink is. But what if instead of drinking that glass of wrath, you left it on an empty table? Those drinks are spiked by Sensors. Maybe all someone needs to do the unexpected is a little nudge.”
I chortled and looked at his empty glass. “I think that’s the treachery talking.”
“Why don’t we give it a try?”
“Swapping someone’s drink?”
He leaned in and grinned wolfishly. “Let’s change destiny. Follow me if you’re up for an experiment.”
My brows touched my hairline as he stood up. Curious, I grabbed my coat and followed him through the crowd.
Club Nine was an enormous establishment, the main door on the front right. Upon entering a wide hall, customers found themselves in a large room mostly used for dancing. The bar ran along the front wall, the kitchen hidden behind it. Bathrooms were tucked away on the left side of the building. The unique thing about Club Nine was the lounge rooms in the back. Straight ahead, past the dance floor, an archway framed a wide hall, which was a cozy chamber unto itself. There were nine rooms, each with an arched entranceway made from brick. The lights affixed to the ceiling splashed a different color on the brick around every entrance. Four rooms on the left, four on the right, and one straight ahead. They weren’t labeled since the colored lights indicated which room was which.
“Why are they separated?” I asked. “Does something different go on in each one?” If the gluttony room had a buffet table, I was all in.
My new friend turned, hands in his pockets. “The club is a perfect example of how people like order. They want to be associated with something because it gives them a sense of belonging. In some clubs, people gravitate toward their own Breed. In others, it’s social status. Here, they want to commiserate and mingle with people who share common interests.”
“But it’s just a gimmick.”
“For some it is.” He disappeared behind me and suddenly stuck his head between my legs.
I hopped forward and scowled at him. “I don’t know what you think is going on here—”
“Haven’t you ever been to a rock concert?” He looked up at me, hands on his knees. “Ride my shoulders and switch out two of the colors.”
When he moved behind me again, I didn’t run off. Mostly because it seemed like a harmless idea, and I wanted to prove to him that it was absurd.
A woman sauntered past us, paying no attention as he hoisted me up. People did crazy things in Breed clubs all the time, so I didn’t concern myself with what other people might be thinking.
“Which ones?” he asked.
After he reminded me of the colors and their meaning, I pointed at the yellow and violet. They weren’t the kind of bulbs that heated up, so it didn’t take long to switch them out.
He set me down and studied them. “Why limbo and lust?”
