I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and handed it over. He took it inside, and I bit my lip, hoping it wouldn’t bust again. I had used Sierra’s makeup to cover up the bruises the best that I could. I wasn’t skilled in makeup application, so the results were…iffy. I had thought of it as coloring in one of my books, making the princess more appealing with color.
The other guard watched me but turned his eyes in a different direction when the other guy who had my bag came back out.
“Where’s my stuff?” I said with bite.
He handed me a ticket in its place. “Checked in. All bags stay with us until you leave.”
“Bullshit.” I felt territorial over my bag. It was all I had. Everything that wasminewas in there.
He lowered his eyes. “You read the rules?”
Trick question, I could tell.
“Yeah,” I said. I tried honesty. “I did. It’s—it’s all that I have.”
He had no reaction. He stepped to the side and held his arm out. “Enter.”
Another guard met me at the door. He told me to follow him. The first thing I noticed was the smell in the air. Chocolate. It seemed to be coming from…candles. They were lit from one end of the hall to another, and the sweet scent seemed to be coming from them.
At the end of the hallway, we took stairs to a second level. If I had to guess, The Club was an old warehouse that had been redone into the space it had become.
Opulence. The word came right afterchocolate. The Club meant to play on all of the senses.
Squeaky-clean glass stretched the entire second level, and I could see from one end of the club to the next. Below, hundreds of people danced and mingled. Upstairs, people only mingled. Men and women in fine attire circulated the room. Some lounged on dark blue velvet sofas or chairs, a drink in hand, smiles on their faces. Crystal and gold touches enhanced the crushed texture of the velvet. Candlelight softened the atmosphere to a warm glow. Everything shimmered.
This had to be the VIP area, where all of the gorgeous people hung out. These people were a step above beautiful.
As soon as my feet touched the floor, I recognized two wildly popular actresses, two actors, three singers, a couple of famous baseball players, and a few high-powered businessmen that I’d seen on the television at Home Run. They’d give their opinions on stocks and things like that. One thing I noticed they all had in common, apart from being famous enough to recognize, was that they were all young. If I had to guess, they were all around my age, early to mid-twenties.
Except for one man.
He stood out because of his age. He had to be in his late sixties, at least, though his olive complexion seemed to cover his true age. He wore an old-time suit with suspenders and nice shoes. He sat in the corner with a drink in his hand, watching, almost studying.
“Ms. Andruzzi.” The guard who had led me in captured my attention by using Sierra’s last name. “Make yourself comfortable.” He pointed to a room that was hard to see through the crowd. “Food and refreshments can be found in there. If you would like a drink, there are servers passing that can take your order. Whatever you wish for, do not hesitate to ask.” He paused for a second. “Do not worry about your bag. If you lose your ticket to claim it, just remember that your number is eleven.”
Then he left me.
Eleven. My number.Fucka me. Did that mean when my number was called that it was time for me to…what? Screw someone in this room? My stomach took a dive and acid bit the back of my throat. I needed a drink.
I slowly headed toward the room that offered food andrefreshments. Luckily, it wasn’t as packed as the rest of the place. It was mostly filled with women who were lingering around the different stations of food. Lobster. Shrimp. Caviar. Varieties of rich, creamy soups. A station with meat that a man carved with a knife. Hundreds of desserts and chocolates. Coffee. Tea. If you wished for it, this place seemed to have it.
I slapped my forehead with enough momentum that a loudwhap!sounded. Then I sucked in a gust of air, remembering after the fact that I had a bruise there.
Shit!
A while back, Keely had invited me over on a Sunday, a rare day off for her, and made me watch a movie with her. It was about a girl who switched places with her younger sister so the little girl wouldn’t have to become a human sacrifice. The girl had to fight to survive while the entire country watched. I had remarked that it was no different than surviving New York, but the thought suddenly hit me.
What if this was some kind of sick game?
Whoever the host was held nothing back, money wise. I couldn’t even fathom the kind of money it would take to host a party of this magnitude. And then after we ate and drank until we had our fill—then what? We’d have to fight for the important things in the huge-ass cornucopia to help win our survival?
That was straight up Keely’s avenue. She was a master with a bow and arrow. My sister from an entirely different mister and mam was kick-ass.
Me? I didn’t even have my measly piece of pottery to use in defense.
Accepting a glass of amber liquid, I sipped on it while I studied the women in the room. None of them were speaking to one another. Glances. Polite smiles. But sometimes, when one or the other wasn’t paying attention, eyes would linger. Judging. Wondering who wore it better. Every woman was dressed for this. We, meaning the girls in the room and me, looked like we belonged here.
Something was missing, though.Wedidn’t belong here. Not on a regular day.
