“Oh, come on, please?” she whined.
The look he gave them was enough that the girls didn’t argue anymore. They turned and strutted away, both girls the kind of stunning I could never be. My chances of getting in went from slim to none.
Stone man scanned my attire. “Invite?”
“I don’t need one,” I answered with a cool confidence that surprised myself.
“To get in you do, lady.”
“I have a friend inside who told me to meet him here.”
“A friend,” he turned to the blond bouncer. “She’s got a friend in there!”
“I’d like a dollar for every time some pretty young thing told us that,” the blond said.
“A dollar,” stone man agreed. “We’d be rich.”
“Millionaires.”
Then they turned back to me with twin looks of boredom. The blond said, “Go away, love, and get your kicks elsewhere.”
“I could go away, but unlike the girls before me, my friend is real.”
Stone man sighed. “Really? What’s your friend’s name?”
“Well, it’s not Peeta.” I attempted to lighten their mood, but it didn’t work. “Karson Worthington.”
Both of them perked up, a subtle movement of bodies straightening and eyes coming alive.
Stone guy tilted his head. “And he told you to meet him here?”
“He did. You can check if you like—my name’s Amelia. But he’s probably going to be as happy as your mother was when you got that awful tattoo that you disturbed him.” I looked pointedly at a badly drawn faded skull on his forearm withDeathwritten across its lopsided forehead.
Apparently, the comment touched a nerve. If he’d crawled up the ass of an elephant, the look Stone guy gave me would have been darker.
“And,” I added, sensing my precarious situation, “he wouldn’t like me being left outside in the cold. He is quite the gentleman like that. Rather old-fashioned.”
They exchanged unsure glances. It didn’t matter whether they let me in or not now; if they went to check, it meant he was there. If he came out, great, and if not, I’d wait for him to emergelater. Standing outside wasn’t my preferred option, but either way I’d get to see him.
“Amelia, who?” the blond asked, eyeing me off as if taking my measure.
“Just Amelia.” I lifted my chin. “I told you—he is expecting me.”
There was a long pause, then he stepped aside and opened the door. “Go through.”
I stepped into a long, thin, dimly lit hallway. The walls and ceiling were painted black. The only lighting came from two dim single bulbs above, placed about twenty feet apart. I should have felt safe enough, the bouncers were only a few feet away, but instead I felt a strange sense of apprehension. As if I was walking through a haunted house at some sideshow alley. I half expected a skeleton to jump out from the wall, or a hand to reach out and touch my shoulder.
My adrenaline spiked, and every sense was on high alert. My boots clicked on the hard floors like the second hand on a clock—tick, tick, tick. For a reason I couldn’t understand the sound made my shudder. I hurried down the corridor and shoved a red door open.
A dance beat that wasn’t apparent from the hallway vibrated heavily. The club must be soundproofed, probably to stop complaints. A plume of hazy mist surrounded the room. It was darker than a normal nightclub. Strobe lights flashed randomly, a kaleidoscope of red, white, and blue. People, silvered by the mist, moved around like a city of ghosts.
My nerves rolled. No, not nerves, it was more than that. It was a gut-twisting apprehension.
Turn back.
I stepped inside and glanced around, searching for Karson. The dance floor was full. Scantily dressed girls and men wholooked like they had a fondness for violence writhed against each other.
There were three dance poles set on a stage, with naked girls moving suggestively against them, and I caught a glimpse of the insides of a woman I didn’t need to see.
