“Oh, I don’t know about that, but thank you. I appreciate it.” I laughed nervously once again. Jordyn’s intense, but in a friendly, overbearing way.
“No, seriously. My Coven read it, and we all fell in love. It’s such a raw and beautiful way to frame feminine rage. Vera isn’t this psychopathic serial killer she’s made out to be. She kills for a purpose and doesn’t harm innocents in her pursuit of justice. She’s a vigilante, a woman scorned. And that’s pure genius!”
I stare in awe. “Wow. T–thank you.” I blink back tears and swallow hard.
When I started writing, I didn’t thinkanyonewould read my books, so hearing Jordyn say such nice things has me a bit choked up.
“No, thank you! And welcome to my nightclub! You're welcome here anytime you’d like. If you’re looking for a Coven to join, I happen to run a gathering here on Monday nights. You should come sometime. No blood sacrifices needed,” Jordyn laughed.
“Way to lay it on thick, Jordyn.” Olivia snorts.
“Sorry. I tend to word-vomit when I’m excited.” Jordyn lets go of my arms and backs away. “I would still love to have you come by.”
“Thank you. I’d love to check it out sometime. I’m new to the area and would love to find a community. I thrive on human connection, which I have been severely lacking in the past few years,” I admit sheepishly.
“Well, then it’s settled. Come by on Monday night. I won’t tell the rest of the Coven you’re coming in case something comes up and you’re unable to make it…But I know they would be thrilled to see you, too.” Jordyn smiles, “Now, out of my office, go party and have fun! Drinks on me. Tell Tiffany at the dancefloor bar that I sent you for house drinks, and tell Charlie at the host stand that Jordyn told you to call Bessie if you need an Uber home. Bessie is the code word for my friends. Use it anytime you need.” Jordyn walks us to the main door, and when she opens it, I’m immediately reminded we’re in a nightclub. T-Pain's remixed version of “Buy U a Drank” booms through the club, and the entire place erupts into cheers.
The song unfortunately reminds me of my early twenties when I worked at Dollies, dancing for men for money—some of the most disgusting men you could ever meet walked those halls—and I was forced to dance for them all. While I worked at Dollies, I created a list of men I would kill if given the chance. Being a dancer, we’re forced to hear all these men’sdesires, no matter how fucked up they were. Sometimes they would confess to crimes they had committed, hoping to impress one of us and be taken back for a private dance. I hated myself so much, but I couldn’t do anything about it, or I wouldn’t have made it out.
So I decided to keep a list. Those stories live in the pages of my books now, and they all get brutally murdered in the end, and their victims get swift justice.
Of course, I changed all of their names, but I remember them.
Every. Last.One.
We finally reach the bottom of the stairs, and Olivia makes a beeline for the bar, making me laugh harder at her urgency.
Olivia reappears as fast as she’s left but returns with a drink. “It’s called the Witches Brew. It’s blueberry vodka,lemonade, a splash of lemon-lime soda, and some Lux Dust,” she says, handing it to me.
“Let’s dance!” I say, pushing my way through the crowd, taking Olivia's hand, and pulling her to the center of the dance floor.
I sip on my drink as I spin around the dance floor, losing myself in the music. Olivia dances with me like no one else is in the room. I let myself live in the moment for once, and it feels so good.
We finish our drinks, tossing them back quickly as we bump and grind against each other, and Olivia volunteers to get us more.
Olivia disappears from my view, and as soon as she does, I feel the same gut feeling I had at the grocery store, as if I were being watched. I dance along with the music, turning my head in all different directions to see if anyone’s looking, but all I find are unfamiliar faces. I quickly become overcrowded, and I’m pushed further into the dance floor. I feel lightheaded, and I turn one last time to try and find a way out of the crowd when I run face-first into someone's chest. “Shit! I’m sorry!” I say, rubbing my head.
“Are you alright?” A familiar voice asks me.
I look up to find Dante, the Greek god, from the gym. “Y–yes. Thank you. I'm trying to find my friend. I'm sorry if I hurt you.” I say, looking behind me to see if I can find Olivia in the crowd, but I don’t.
“That’s okay. Didn’t hurt me at all.” Dante says, bringing my attention back to him. “Funny running into you here. Literally. I didn’t take you as a club girl.”
I laugh. “I’m not. This is my first time out in a long time.”
“And are you enjoying yourself?” Dante asks, sounding genuinely curious.
“I think so,” I say, playfully shrugging.
Dante doesn’t hide that he’s checking me out. I watch his eyes flicker up and down my body, almost like he’s memorizing what I look like in this dress. “Would you like to dance with me, Luna?”
When his eyes meet mine, I feel my heart skip a beat. God, he’s so fucking hot. “Just one?” I ask.
Dante closes the distance between us, leaning down, his lips brushing against my ear. “You canalwaysask for more.”
A club remix of ‘Stereo Love’ starts playing, and everyone around us begins to cheer and jump around. Someone brushes against me, sending me into Dante. I look up at him. “Sorry. I should—” I pause, taking him in. Why can’t I dance with him? I came here to have fun, right? That’s all this would be. Fun. “One dance. And then I need to find my friend, okay?”
Dante nods. And his large hands grip my waist, guiding me through the crowd. I suddenly feel so much smaller than I am. He lets go of my waist, taking me by the hand, spinning me out, and quickly pulls me back in. Dante’s hands are back on my waist, and he moves with me, grinding to the beat.
