He’s been my lifeline for years: confidant, personal assistant, therapist, teddy bear... A teddy bear with off-color jokes and a therapist who occasionally tries to flirt his way into my bed every now and again, sure, but intense friendships like ours are always a little complicated. Point being, no one else would understand what I’m dealing with. Or at least listen, hug me, and feed me drinks to help me cope with it. I need to vent about what went down with Luka at the Soirée shoot, and Mateo’s the only person I want to talk to. He’s the only one I trust.
It’s what everyone wants in a partner. Lord knows I’ll never have anything even close to this level of emotional intimacy with Luka.
I brush off the sting that the thought gives me and pull out my cellphone to text Mateo.
This is a 9-1-1.A really bad 9-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1.
Uh-oh. What happened, boo?he quickly texts back.Everything go okay at the shoot?
I type back,It wasn’t the shoot. It was Luka.
He sends back a sad face emoji, and I’m already anticipating an evening in with him curled up on the couch, watching horrible movies and eating a pile of cheat food, with some cheap wine to wash it down. He’ll listen when I bitch about Luka and the hate sex we had in the limo, and how he ruined my very first national photo shoot. He’ll crack jokes and talk smack with me while feeding me chocolate. It’ll be perfect, just like old times.
So here’s the plan…he texts me back.
Pacing the guest room, I wait for him to fill me in. It’s getting late in the day. Luka is out doing who-knows-what, and I’m feeling more and more cooped up in this penthouse by the minute. At this point I’m more than ready to bolt over to the Wicker Park apartment.
I have to be at the opening of this new club downtown—Geo Blu. I’m committed, so I can’t bail last minute, but meet me there and we can leave early, k? You need to be vetted to get in, but I’ll handle it.
I tap a finger against my bottom lip. Ugh. This wasn't the BFF night in I was hoping for. Mateo has been making friends in the industry and always seems to be off to some gallery show or restaurant opening or something. Normally he fills me in on all of his invites, but I don’t recall him mentioning Geo Blu. I’m actually a little hurt that he didn’t ask me to go with him before.
Sure, I’ve been tied up with wedding planning and getting used to my new life with Luka…but am I losing Mateo in the process? I pause as I stare at the phone. Maybe I’ve been letting my new life get in the way of our friendship. Now that I think about it, that’s exactly what’s been happening. I lift my chin and text back as I march over to the walk-in closet.
Be there in an hour.
You won’t regret it, he texts back.Promise. Hit me up when you get here.
I smile as I run my fingers along a row of dresses, playing a little game of eenie-meenie-miney-mo with my most revealing selection of clubbing outfits. There’s the bodysuit with the sexy shredded fabric along the sides, the micro mini with an oval cutout over the chest. I have an all lace bodycon dress that shows, well, everything. Bandage dresses, little black dresses…
None of it feels exactly right.
Going into the bathroom, I plug in my curling iron and twist the ends of my hair into big, fluffy curls. I work a little product through them until I’m satisfied, and then turn to my makeup. I go dark and heavy with the palette. My eyes are all smoky shimmer, with big, black fake lashes. Next I stain my cheeks pink and create bold lips with a slick of deep burgundy gloss. The finishing touch is a spray of body glitter, just for fun, and then I go back to the closet.
My gaze falls to a matte, metallic silver dress hanging in the back. Plucking it from its place, I turn it over and over, remembering what drove me to purchase it in the first place. It’s a little “Vegas” for me, not something I’d normally wear. Mateo talked me into it back in LA, I think to wear to an audition, but I haven’t worn it since.
Slipping out of my clothes, I stand there naked for a moment, trying to decide, and then slip into the dress. It’s got a vintage feel, with ruching at the waist, thin halter straps, and a cowl neckline, but the way it hugs my body and flashes my cleavage screams all modern. There’s a slit up the back nearly to my ass. I slip into black heels and do a turn in front of the mirror.
I decide that I kind of love it. It’s sexy, different, and totally glam. And the perfect party outfit for a club opening with my bestie.
Luka still isn’t home by the time my Uber arrives. It crosses my mind to let him know that I’m leaving for the evening, but he never extends me that courtesy, so fuck it. I give myself one last look in the entryway mirror—the same Luka and I had stood before not long ago—and smile. I look positively slutty. Raising my middle finger, I pretend it’s him I’m giving it to.
Take that.
Mateo meets me with a hug at the door of the club.
“Look at you, little miss Studio 54!” he teases.
“Is this okay?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious. “I look like a disco ball.”
“Okay? You look fuckingamazing,” he says, and ushers me in like he’s got VIP access—which it turns out he does.
“How’d you get in on opening night?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at the mile-long line of hot young things still waiting behind the velvet rope. “Is this a paid appearance, or…?”
“Sleeping with both the club manager and CEO at the same time has it benefits,” he laughs, nudging me with a swish of his hip as he pulls me inside.
Music thumps straight through me, strobe lights bursting into shards of color all over the darkened room. I head for the bar, but Mateo shakes his head no and pulls me out onto the dance floor. We’re immediately swallowed by swaying, gyrating bodies as the music shifts to an even louder song with more bass. The crowd cheers and I forget about alcohol long enough to dive into the music with Mat. We used to go dancing often in LA and then head home to crash on the couch and eat tacos we picked up from a parking lot food truck at 3 a.m.
What I wouldn’t give for those good old days.
