Page 59 of Fifth Avenue Devil

Dana grins. “No need to look like I’m marching you to the firing squad. Cheer up! It’s a party!”

Taking my hand, Dana sails back to our secluded VIP nook. In the dark, a champagne bucket and glasses sit, chilling.

Her grin is as effervescent as she pops the cork and pours champagne for us both. A waitress swishes by our table and sets down a tray clinking with shots of clear liquid.

Without a word, Dana passes the woman a hundred. My cousin turns to me, her excitement evident. She waves her hand over the tray. “I ordered some tequila for us.”

I shake my head. “Uh, no thanks. I’ve never had tequila before.”

"Come on, Annalise, live a little," she teases. She nudges a shot toward me. It’s an invitation to sin, wrapped in good-natured camaraderie.

I hesitate. Isn’t this exactly why I agreed to come here? To loosen up and experience something I haven’t before?

"Should we toast to new experiences?” I ask.

"Damn right," Dana shouts over the music. We clink the small glasses together and take the shot. I only get half of it down my throat before the burn of the alcohol makes me gasp. I cough and try to suck in a breath, spitting the rest of the shot onto the floor.

“Whoops!” Dana laughs, pounding my back. “It’s okay. That’s why I got a bunch of shots.”

She hands me a couple of cocktail napkins. I splutter as I dab at the tequila that I spilled on my dress. “Sorry, Dana.”

"Seriously, don’t give it a second thought. Just sit back and get comfy.” She squeezes my arm. “I'm stoked you called me. This place?" She gestures expansively to the club full of gyrating bodies and pulsating lights. "This is where I reign."

"You come here a lot?" I ask. I flush. Do I already sound drunk?

"Yep. I’ve been coming here for a decade," Dana says.

My eyes bulge out. Dana is only twenty-four. Is she saying that she came here at fourteen years old?

The sound changes and she lets out a howl. “Oooh, I love this song! Come on, Annalise. We have to dance!"

She stands up and does another shot. When I hesitate, she puts the shot glass to my mouth and tips it up. I can only open and accept the flood of alcohol she pours down my throat. My mouth fills quickly and the extra tequila sluices down my chin.

I wipe my mouth as I swallow. It suddenly occurs to me how much taking tequila shots is like having a man come in your mouth. The thought makes me gasp with laughter.

"Ready?" Dana asks. It isn't so much a question as a summons. The dance floor awaits.

"Ready as I’ll ever be," I declare. I can feel the alcohol now. It’s igniting a rare recklessness within me.

I think I like tequila, I decide.

Hand in hand, we leave the safety of the VIP lounge. The entire dance floor is laid out before us. A pulsating mass of bodies moves in sync with the beat. Dana plunges into the fray. She’s absolutely uninhibited, and as she pulls me along it’s all I can do to hang on for the ride.

She finds a spot for us and throws her hands up in the air, swaying to the music. I feel like I’m nothing but sharp elbows and awkward steps. Watching the people around me shimmy and swirl euphorically only makes me more anxious.

“I’m a bad dancer!!” I shout into Dana’s ear.

"Practice makes perfect! Nobody's watching," Dana shouts over the music. She moves her head in time with her arms. "You have to feel the rhythm!"

I paste a smile on my face and carry on. Slowly, I realize that most of the people around me have their eyes closed. That helps me to feel like they’re not staring at me. A current of electricity starts to seep up from the soles of my feet to the tips of fingers. The beating pulse of the music envelops me.

It’s freeing to discover that no one cares. Not about my clumsy steps. Not about my money or my job. Here, I am truly anonymous. I’m free from the scrutiny that accompanies my last name.

I dance with abandon. The seductive allure of being a secret hidden in plain sight lures out a side of me that I didn’t know existed!

"Look at you!" Dana laughs as she twirls around me. "Who knew the ice queen could melt?"

"Watch it," I retort, playfully.

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