Page 22 of InfraRed

“Dammit,” I mutter because she’s right. Dad will ask questions if I cancel again. I’m not sure the last few excuses worked either, but he didn’t question me. Though it would explain the looks he’s given me lately.

“That’s right, little girl. Now you have twenty minutes to get to Slippery.”

“Slippery!” I screech, instantly turning red when I draw a few smirks. “Lily, I am not dressed for that place!” Truthfully, I am not a fan of the place at all. The dress code always feels clothing optional. It’s not a state I’m comfortable in unless it’s whatever costume I’m wearing for a performance.

“I. Don’t. Care. Now, get into the pretty, environmentally friendly Tesla that just arrived. Love you. Bye.”

She ends the call just as a car pulls to the curb. The driver rolls down the window and calls my name. I stomp to the car, muttering under my breath like a petulant toddler, and climb in the backseat.

I love Lily, but sometimes I wish she understood shoving me out of my comfort zone actually hinders me more than helps. At the end of every day, I’m already exhausted from overstimulation. A night out with her always takes me days to recuperate.

“Are you ready, ma’am?” the driver asks with a slight accent I can’t place.

“What gave it away? Was it the closed door or me sitting here, twiddling my thumbs?”

His dark brows dip, a hard scowl pulling his mouth down. “Porra da cadela.”

I wince, catching the meaning from his tone more than his words. Embarrassment slithers across my skin when I realize how much like my mother I just sounded. My head ducks in shame. “I apologize. You didn’t deserve that. Yes, I am ready to go.”

His hard eyes soften, and he nods. “Thank you.”

“Did your instructions come with the address of where we’re going, or should I find it?”

“I have it, ma’am.”

I nod and try to smile, still embarrassed about the way I spoke to him.

Forty-five minutes and half a dozen texts from my bossy friend later, we arrive at the club. The bright neon purple sign in the swoopy script flashes brightly above the club, mocking me. Despite its name sounding like an open invitation to get wet and wild, the club is exclusive, and the place everyone wants to be, made apparent by the line circling the block. Just as I open the car door, the first fat drops of rain begin to fall.

I race to the entrance, and the bouncer lifts the rope, letting me through. The crowd behind me complains. It’s not unusual when you’ve been in line for hours. Then, some rich prick gets in without suffering a second, monopolizing that precious maximum capacity limit. I’m not rich. I don’t look it either. But I’m connected to people who are. I guess that makes me a prick, too.

Shrieks and screams sound off before I walk through the door. Chancing a look over my shoulder, I see the fat drops have turned into a tsunami in seconds. The crowd scrambles, looking for cover from the deluge falling on them, and I catch the glares of a few girls I recognize from Miss Dumond’s classes.

Lovely.

Once I’m through the entrance, after checking my bag, I continue through the double doors to the main room. Purple and green lights streak across the building. Not a table or booth is available, and it appears to be standing room only at the bar. Because, of course,Lily wants to be where the entire city is.

A resentment escapes my lips as I work my way through the crowd, dreaming of a Cosmopolitan so big I can swim in it, to the roped-off section on the other side of the building to the private boothownedby none other than Lily’s rock star brother. I didn’t even know people could own booths.

When I reach the table, my dream dies an excruciating death when I spot my dad and Uncle Henry sitting there with Lily and Ashleigh, laughing at something. I was hoping they’d be gone before I got here because Icannotdrink with them around. It just feels… wrong. It doesn’t help that I’m not twenty-one, but as long as Lily or Ashleigh buy, no one says a word. I just can’t with Dad or Uncle H here to witness it.

I swallow disappointment and frustration—never wanting the two most important men in my life to feel for a second I’m not happy to see them—and smile wide. Sticking my fingers out to the side, I give a little jazz fingers wave. “I’m here.”

Lily and Ashleigh practically flash the room in their micro dresses as they climb over Dad and Uncle H. I hear my uncle grumble something about starting a fire later while Dad mutters thanks to God that at least I’m wearing clothes.

My friends ignore their boyfriends—I gag every time I think about that—and throw their arms around me, bouncing on their toes. Lily’s high-pitched squeal of excitement nearly ruptures my eardrums, and their squeezing is sucking the life out of me. “Can’t. Breathe.” I tap out on both of them.

“Let her go, you psycho,” Dad calls out. “It’s not like you didn’tsee her a few days ago.”

“I didn’t,” Ashleigh pipes in with an eye roll.

“And I saw her for two minutes before you walked in. It doesn’t count when you’re around,” Lily says over her shoulder with a wave of her middle finger.

“Why doesn’t it fucking count?” Dad grunts, bringing his drink to his lips.

Lily spins, batting her lashes. “Because we can’t be depraved little sluts with Daddy watching.”

My face turns ten shades of red as I shake my head. I peek at Dad and see him biting his cheek with a grin.Oh my God, I might puke.At least whatever deity exists has a little mercy because he doesn’t voice what he’s thinking. No matter what it is, I’m sure it’s something that will leave me with mental scars forever.

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