Page 3 of Deck of Scarlets

“What a douche,” she sneered.

“Oh, yeah, you showed him,” I said sarcastically. Jeremy snickered beside me and then patted her head like a little kid. She shrugged him off and gave us both the middle finger.

After a few mishaps, we finally inched our way to the front, excited to start the night.

Booking anything from underground rock bands to B-list mainstream pop, Electric Haze in downtown Manhattan was the place to be, especially during SummerFest. This year’s lineup was dedicated to all new and upcoming artists, and as long as I kept drinking from the flask, I was guaranteed a good time.

From our view, we could see flashing lights just beyond the entrance, the bass thumping hard. My excitement escalated, and I couldn’t wait to get on the dance floor.

Nickie hid the flask back in her bra, adjusting it until her boobs were almost hanging out. A playful wink from her as we approached the front doors, and we spoke with the bouncer, who happened to be Trevor Stiles from our high school’s football team. We paid our entry fee, he stamped our hands for being under twenty-one, and we slithered inside, moving with the crowd ahead of us. Nickie slipped the flask back out, taking her second sip of the night.

“Hey, save some for the rest of us, you heathen,” said Jeremy, ripping the flask from her hands.

She adjusted herself by loosening up a couple more buttons on her tight shirt. “Chill, drama queen. There’s plenty of liquid gold to go around.” She gave a little shake of her boobs and quickly ran her fingers through her hair.

Nickie handed me the flask again, and I took a greedy sip. “Whatever you did this time, the taste is incredible.”

She gave me a wink. “I got connections.”

Whatever that meant, I linked my arm with hers and Jeremy’s, strutting inside to the sound of some techno beat.

The club’s atmosphere always gave me the biggest rush. The music’s vibrations from the speakers pulsated my eardrums as the alcohol entered my bloodstream. People all around me, dressed in similar attire, some more scandalous than others, moved with the music as a prism of colors flashed in and out of tiny lights above the empty stage while the crowd waited for the next act. Hot stage lights and sweaty bodies collided as Jeremy, Nickie, and I approached the front. Hypnotic sounds matched the tempo to some of the strobe lights stationed around the dance floor, beckoning us forward.

But not before I went to pee.

“Girl, you have the bladder of a squirrel, I swear,” commented Jeremy.

Nickie secured our spots at the front and gave anyone who tried to invade our space a dirty look.

“Hurry, princess. These girls tonight are fucking catty,” she said.

I gave them both a shut-up-I-know look before joining the wave of people until I ended up next to a small line of other females waiting their turn to use the toilet.

Tapping my foot to the beat, I observed each group that mingled, laughed, and flirted with others. I would miss these nights, especially ones where you knew someone would go home wasted and regret everything. Those were always the best stories to tell.

Every couple of minutes, the line would inch closer, and I noticed my vision seemed skewed. The colors from various strobe lights displayed throughout the room started to pulsate, and some even began to float away in little balls. I suddenly wanted to reach out and catch one, to know what it felt like.

It hit me that very moment that I was experiencing a drug trip, one that I hadn’t taken part in since the beginning of the summer.

The more I saw the floating colored balls, the faster they moved. Up, down, left, right, swirling and twirling. I stepped out of my place in line, trying to capture the pretty objects, when a male’s voice rang loudly in my ear.

“Come on. The crowd is getting impatient.” The next thing I knew, someone barreled right into my side, knocking me off balance, the floating balls dropping to the floor just as I did.

“Oh, crap! Sorry!”

My mind and body were surfing on a white puffy cloud, completely unbothered by what had just happened. The balls began to float again; this time, they circled my head and someone else. A man. A beautiful man.

His brown, curly hair, a messy mop on top, and blue eyes that sparkled under the fluorescent lights delivered an apologetic smile as the intense strobe light colors surrounded his head, giving him an angelic silhouette.

Those baby blue eyes were captivating, and all I could do was stare with my mouth slightly agape. I could jump his bones right now and nobody would give a shit.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. His words came out all warped, making me laugh. I noticed something shiny on his earlobe, possibly a little earring, but all it did was sparkle in a weird shape.

“Josh, come on! We’re on next!” somebody shouted from behind us. The one named Josh loosened his hold on my arm, a torn look on his face as if he were debating whether to leave or stay. That touch sent waves of electricity throughout my body, making me squirm. Or maybe it was the drugs causing the weird feelings. The balls around his head started to change their form. Swirls and exotic patterns zigzagged and wiggled on the walls behind him.

“I’m fine. Go ahead,” I said. My voice was two octaves too high, as if the colors of the rainbow were spewing from my mouth.

Can he tell I’m tripping balls right now?

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