Page 60 of Past Due

“I think you’ll like Stefana,” she said, still tapping away at her phone. “She went to university in London. She works at Raiffeissen now.”

“That’s a bank, right?” I thought I had seen signs for it on my journey.

Rina nodded. “It’s the biggest bank here.”

Her mention of banking reminded me that I needed to check my balances and see if there was a hold on my card. It had happened once on my travels, and I had been able to approve the denied transaction and reactive my card within the app. As far my balances went, I was very careful with my money so I knew what to expect within a few cents.

While Rina messaged with her friends, I opened the bank app on my phone and typed in my login details. Strangely, the app showed an error message telling me to call the bank directly to discuss my account. Whatever was wrong would have to wait until tomorrow.

When we reached the club where Rina had arranged to meet her friends, I stepped out carefully, making sure to keep my knees together, and sent a grateful smile to the guard who had lent a hand. As soon as I hit the sidewalk, I was swarmed my Rina’s friends, all of them unbelievably beautiful and clearly very wealthy. They dripped diamonds and gold and held tight to designer purses. All of them were various shades of blonde, but the tallest and most svelte of them had lustrous platinum hair.

“I’m Stefana,” she said, stepping forward to introduce herself.

“Marley,” I said, shaking her hand. The stack of gold bracelets on her wrist jingled when she moved, and it reminded me of Aston during her boho Coachella phase.

“So, I hear you’re getting married,” Stefana said, taking my arm as the rest of our group pressed ahead toward the entrance of the club. She spoke with a British accent, and I suspected she had been very well educated. “But not a big wedding?”

“No, it’s more of an elopement.” I smiled at the bouncer who waved us through and let us bypass the long line snaking around the building.

“So romantic!” Stefana grinned. “If I ever get married, I’m doing the same thing. I’m going to run off and do it quickly and privately before my brothers can get involved.”

“Let me guess,” I said, raising my voice over the booming music. “They’re overprotective like Luka?”

She laughed. “I wish they were only as overprotective as him!” She tugged on my arm. “This way! Drinks!”

And, holy hell, but these girls could drink!

I thought Aston could party. She had dragged me around Houston on all-nighters where we closed down clubs and bars when we were still undergrads. Rina and her friends? They were on a level that would have made frat boys envious.

I didn’t even try to keep up with them. I allowed myself one cocktail, and even that one was so strong, I felt the warm burn of a buzz within minutes of the first sip. They were a wild bunch, but friendly and welcoming. I hadn’t danced like this in years, and it felt good to let go and enjoy the night.

One club turned into two with a stop for street food in between. The second club was smaller than the first with better music and a more interesting crowd. Stefana seemed to have chosen me as her wingwoman for the night, and I ended up chatting with European and American tourists. I turned down their offers for drinks, certain I would need to be carried home if I accepted. Instead, I stuck to sparkling water or soda.

I thought for sure we would end the night after the second club, but Rina and her friends had other ideas. Stefana sent me a sympathetic look as we waited outside a third club, this one much bigger than the other two. “Not used to these long nights?”

“Not really,” I admitted, glancing down at my poor feet. “Or heels!”

“The things we do to look beautiful,” she said with a sigh. “My brother can’t understand why I spend so much money for a massage and pedicure every week. I told him to wear my heels for a week and then ask me if it’s money well spent.”

I smiled at that. “Do your brothers live here in Tirana?”

“One of them does,” she said as we were granted entrance into the club. “Dusan, Luka’s best friend, is here. My older brother still lives back home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Belgrade.” Stefana took my hand so we wouldn’t be separated in the sea of bodies crammed into the front of the club. This appeared to be the spot in the city. There was hardly an inch of free space anywhere on the dance floor, and I was grateful Stefana was taller and able to see where she was going.

A leering drunken asshole stepped in front of Stefana and grabbed her by the waist. He tried to drag her off to dance, and she pulled away from him with a cutting remark that made him glare. He grabbed at her again, this time rubbing his crotch against her leg, and she smacked him across the face. As she cussed him out in a mix of Albanian and Serbian, one of our guards intervened and shoved the gross jerk away from her and back toward his friends.

Stefana snatched my hand and tugged me away from the altercation. I glanced back at the pervert who had grabbed her and shivered at the fury reflected in his eyes. He seemed like the type of entitled asshat who wouldn’t forget this, and I worried we would run into him again, especially when it seemed that he had some kind of connection with the club.

“Are you okay?” I asked, giving her hand a squeeze. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, but I need a shower after being touched by that filthy piece of shit.” She glared back toward the dance floor. “I hate men like that! Men that think they can just grab us and use us, and we should be so thrilled they chose us.” She shuddered. “Are they like that in Houston?”

“There are entitled men like that everywhere,” I said, thinking of how many times I had encountered that kind of behavior. “But there are lots of really good men, too. More of the good ones the than bad, in my experience, at least,” I qualified.

“I wish I had your experience,” she grumbled as we caught up with Rina and the rest of the group. They had been so far ahead of us they had missed the ugly spectacle back in the middle of the dance floor.

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