Page 25 of Life of the Party

“You’ll see.” His hand moved from my hair, his fingers slowly tracing a trail down my neck, then up again. “By the way…you look amazing.”

I blushed. “I do?”

“You know you do.” His voice was lower, guttural. I smiled.

“Thanks.” The feel of his fingers was addictive. My heart began to beat harder at his touch, however slight. I clenched my hands against my legs. Grey chuckled and stopped, placing his hand back against the seat, allowing me to catch my breath—but I missed his fingers the moment they lifted. I bit my lip and tried to calm myself.

Soon we could make out city lights on the horizon. Alex cheered. I laughed, fairly wasted already from just the drive, never mind what was happening later. The talk and laughter was rowdy and lively inside the car. Alex and Grey were arguing about some bands I’d never heard of; Charlie was trying to regale me with a work story from the front seat. Zack would throw a few words into the band conversation. We weaved through the city traffic, the street lamps lighting the interior of the car as we passed beneath them.

Finally, we pulled into a parking lot filled with vehicles. I looked out the window in interest. The only thing that made sense to my poor, befuddled brain was a neon sign perched atop a brick building.

It said “The Drink” in large green letters, with a martini angled off the side.

“We’re going to a club?” I asked Grey excitedly. “But I’m not old enough—”

“Leave that to me. Come on.” He opened the door and helped me out. As soon as I stood up, I nearly fell over. I hadn’t expected to be so wasted; it took me by surprise. Grey laughed and steadied me.

“You okay?” His hands were warm on my bare arms.

“Yeah.” I laughed happily. Better than okay. Great, wonderful…ecstatic.

“Come on.” Grey took my hand in his and pulled me towards the entrance. Alex and Zack and Charlie were walking ahead of us. As we turned the corner, I was amazed to see the long line of people waiting to get into the club. It stretched nearly the entire block. I looked up at Grey but he didn’t seem disappointed, like he hadn’t anticipated a wait at all.

I soon understood why. When the two large, intimidating men at the entrance saw us coming, they immediately pulled back the rope and let us all through. Grey spoke with them briefly—I didn’t hear the conversation, but I noticed they called him Mr. Lewis. I raised my eyebrows at the VIP treatment and smiled.

“I didn’t know your last name was Lewis.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Grey smirked. He grasped my hand again and we made our way inside. I looked around; this club was nothing like the Aurora at home. Modern and new, the décor was mostly black and white, with splashes of vibrant blues and greens and oranges in just the right places. The main floor was dedicated almost entirely to the dance floor, clear Plexiglas atop swirls of fluorescent colour, surrounded by tall white and black plastic chairs. A shooter bar flanked the left side, and a large spiral staircase took up most of the right. The place was packed, the music thumped over the noisy din.

CHAPTER 11

“This way, Mr. Lewis.” A server appeared from nowhere and motioned for us to follow. “The rest of your party has already arrived.”

We followed the waitress, who led us up the staircase. The top floor was full of circular tables surrounded by more tall plastic chairs, impossibly tall-backed booths lined the walls, and all of them were full. The tables were made to mimic the dance floor. There was a bar for every wall but one, the back wall the server was leading us to. She pushed back a nearly indiscernible curtain that opened to reveal another staircase, this one much smaller than the first. Above us was another floor, similar to the one below. There were no single tables, only the larger, tall-backed booths about twice the size of the usual. Each was up on a platform, closed in by a curtain surrounding it.

“VIP?” I asked him.

“Nothing but.” Grey chuckled. We ushered in through the curtain to join the people already there, seated around the back of the booth. The lights were dim, which I liked. The tabletop was like the others, clear Plexi over lights, the cushions upholstered in soft black and white vinyl.

Grey introduced me to the rest of the band before we sat. Jimmy was the one with dark black hair cut short in a faux-hawk, smiling politely. Tom and Lucas were brothers, they shared the same shaggy brown hair and large, bushy eyebrows.

“Bass, keys, and our manager,” Grey explained.

We squeezed into the booth, Grey on one side of me, Charlie on the other. I was thankful to be past the scrutiny, to sit and relax. I lit a smoke. Grey was talking to Alexon the other side of him. I heard someone order champagne for everybody, and my eyebrows raised again. Was this how they always partied? How could they afford it?

A lady came around with hand-blown crystal flutes, filling them halfway with sparkling, honey-coloured champagne. I looked around, but nobody was drinking theirs. It was like they were waiting for something.

After a few minutes, Tom called us to attention. The talk quieted around us as he raised his glass in the air.

“Tonight, a celebration.” He smiled around the group. “Tonight, a first. I am honoured, and delighted, and proud to be a part of this ride with you all. Here’s to your success, gentlemen, and to your future. It’s sure to be bright. Congratulations.”

“Fuck yeah!” Zack shouted. Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses together, laughing happily. I watched them in confusion. Though it was dim in the room, apparently, I was the only one completely in the dark.

“Um…Congratulations for what?” I whispered to Grey. He turned to me, his blue eyes alight with happiness, the impact of them taking my breath away. He laughed loudly.

“Our band was signed.” He explained. He clinked his glass to mine.

“Signed? Like, with a label?”

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