Though Steph had told her about the front bar area, she was still surprised by how pleasantly quiet it was when she made her way into the lavishly decorated social area that was sectioned off from the dance floor and the huge bar in the center of the dance floor.
It was a genius idea to have a quieter area with a bar so people could actually talk and hear one another instead of yelling over the music. It would also give her time to have a drink in a quiet area so she could work up her courage to venture onto the dance floor.
Steph had explained that the dance floor was like a stadium with the bar in the center and the dance floor surrounding it on all sides. Then beyond the dance floor were the public places to sit. These were unenclosed areas with tables and chairs to rest after dancing and have a drink, although conversation was pretty much out.
Above the public seating were the private boxes. These were enclosed rooms with a waiter or waitress assigned to each, and music could be heard or not heard with the flip of a switch. They were larger and more comfortable sitting areas than the public seating below with couches, plush armchairs and a large table for setting drinks and food on.
The only thing it lacked, Evangeline had dryly remarked on, was a bed for people hooking up to have sex. She’d shut up quickly when Steph had seriously informed her that there were even more private rooms at the top of the club, access strictly monitored, which meant you had to be pretty damn important—or rich—to get in, andtheywere equipped with all the necessary comforts for couples to do as they wanted.
How Steph knew all this, Evangeline didn’t know, and she hadn’t asked, though she’d seen Nikki and Lana’s open curiosity and knew they would certainly ask at first opportunity. Evangeline figured if Steph had wanted them to know, she would have volunteered where she got her info, so she hadn’t pursued the matter and had continued asking questions before either Nikki or Lana could pounce on the opportunity to grill their friend.
Evangeline made her way to the bar, pondering how many drinks she could afford and how she should space them accordingly so it didn’t look so obvious that she didn’t belong. If she bought one, she could nurse it a long time and at least look like she was doing something other than standingaround looking and feeling out of place. But then again she needed at least one drink in her to fortify herself before venturing onto the dance floor, where she would likely see Eddie and whoever his latest conquest was.
She glanced down, wondering if she was out of her mind for thinking, even for a moment, that Eddie would look at her and feel any regret for what he’d thrown away so callously. Even a freaking bouncer had found her lacking, so who was she kidding?
She murmured her order to the bartender and he smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. It was the first overt gesture of welcome she’d received since arriving at this place, so she smiled back. A genuine smile. One that saidthank you. He winked at her and then began making her froufrou girly drink, as the girls called them. Hey, she couldn’t help it that she was a complete lightweight when it came to alcohol. Just because she served the stuff every night didn’t mean she partook of it.
Besides, she liked fruity drinks and she especially appreciated that the bartender stuck one of those tropical umbrellas along with a cherry into the drink just before sliding it over the bar to her.
“On the house, babe,” he said when she carefully pulled out one of the bills from her precious cache in the tiny clutch she had draped cross-body so she didn’t have to worry about dropping it or laying it down and forgetting about it.
She lifted her startled gaze to him. “But you can’t do that. You’ll get into trouble!”
He winked again and just shook his head before heading down to attend to another customer.
Well. Maybe not everyone found her a miserable failure. And he was pretty cute. No, not cute. There was one thing she was picking up on even though she hadn’t ventured far into the club yet. The men who worked here weren’t pretty boys. They were guys who were buff and built and looked like they could handle themselves in a fight. And the women were beautiful. Classy looking and elegant. There would be nolooking down one’s nose at one of the waitresses here because they looked like high-society chicks who just happened to be serving drinks. Apparently being beautiful was not only a requirement of being allowed into the club but also to work here.
She was so out of place it wasn’t even funny.
She turned around, bringing the glass to her mouth, noticing several glances thrown her way. She fidgeted uncomfortably. Was it that obvious she didn’t belong? One could only take so much judgment even if she had marched in here determined to get some of her own back.
After observing yet another set of eyes flashing in her direction, she decided she’d had enough. This was absurd. What was she trying to prove? And why? She didn’t have to prove anything to anyone but herself, and she knew she was better off without Eddie. She hadn’t come in here so he’d drop to his knees and beg her to come back. Not that it wasn’t an appealing image if for no other reason she could kick him in the balls and tell him,Over my dead body.
An ache filtered into her chest. No, she’d simply come because she’d wanted him to know he was wrong. That she wasn’t a mousy, passionless woman. She could be beautiful. Even if none of it was real and was, instead, courtesy of her friends’ skill with hair and makeup. Not to mention the dress and shoes they’d outfitted her in. The way-too-form-fitting dress that outlined every single curve and dip of her body. A dress she would have never dared to wear before even if her friends forever despaired of her hiding what they called a “hot mama body.”
Whatever. They were her friends and they were entitled to be biased. But Evangeline knew the truth. Just as Eddie also knew the truth, and she was a fool to come here and think for a moment he’d change his mind and regret anything.
She was about to turn and place her drink back on the bar and then swiftly take her leave when she saw him from the corner of her eye.
Oh shit, oh shit!
She froze, not wanting to turn quickly to hide in case he’d already seen her, because she wouldnotmake it obvious that she was trying to hide. Instead she pretended interest in the dance floor through the wide soundproof double doors to her left as though she were just finishing up her drink before opting to make her way out onto it.
Maybe he hadn’t seen her. Maybe he was leaving.
Laughter sounded close. Too damn close.
Shit.
All her maybes went right out of the door. Where she wished Eddie had gone.
“What the hell are you doing here, Evangeline?” Eddie asked, amusement thick in his voice.
She slowly turned her cool gaze on him, purposely widening her eyes as if surprised to see him.
“Oh hello, Eddie,” she said. She nodded politely at the woman clinging like a burr to his arm. The woman who did not look pleased that Eddie was talking to Evangeline. “I would think it’s obvious what I’m doing here. What does anyone do here? They have a few drinks and dance. Which is precisely what I intend to do. If you’ll excuse me, I’m heading onto the floor. Good to see you. Hope y’all have a good night.”
She started to slip past Eddie, but his hand flew out and cut painfully into her arm. She whirled in shock, staring at him like he’d lost his mind.
