Page 25 of Damnation
“JC?”
I nod.
“It stands for ‘Junior Collins.’ My brother always calls me that, and Marcus overhead it once, and now everybody’s calling me that or ‘Little Collins.’”
“And who is this Martinez?” Tiffany interjects.
“He’s the owner’s son. He does some…business out of the club.”
The way she says “business” is very suggestive.
“What, is he a drug dealer?” Tiffany asks in surprise. Leila tells her to lower her voice, immediately confirming that Tiffany’s suspicion is correct.
But…why is Thomas hanging out with drug dealers?
“And what does that have to do with us?” I ask, although I’m a lot more curious what it has to do with Thomas.
“Oh, nothing. I just had to make up an excuse on the spot to make sure Marcus would let us in.”
The hallway forks at the end of the tunnel. Leila guides us to a black door on the left, while I look curiously at the line of mostly boys waiting on the other side. The only thing I can see ahead of them is a red curtain. “Hey, what’s on the right?”
Tiffany and Leila both turn to look and the latter replies, “Oh, that’s where the strippers perform.”
“You mean this is a strip club?” I ask, incredulous.
“Something like that,” Leila confirms, chuckling at the shock on my face.
“But there are minors in that line. Is that legal?”
“The wordlegalis open to a lot of interpretation when you have the right connections. Trust me, the less you know about it, the better. Let’s go.” She takes my hand, and I grab Tiffany’s tightly as we walk through the black door.
As soon as we enter the club, we are hit by a wave of heat generated by the huge crowd of people jumping around and going wild to the pounding beat of the dance music. Beams from a strobe light blind me, it stinks of alcohol and smoke, and it’s so loud, we’re forced to scream to hear one another. Tiffany was right; this place is a jungle.
“Let’s go get something to drink!” Leila suggests.
“I’m down!” Tiff answers.
Before I even have time to decline the invitation, I’m being dragged over to the bar. Leila rests her arms on it, summoning the bartender with a wave of her hand and shouting something in his ear. Moments later, three beers slam down in front of us, each with a slice of lime jammed into the neck of the bottle. We toast each other and drink. I feel a rushof adrenaline; the music is roaring so loudly that I can feel the bass vibrating in my chest. I lick beer from my lips and turn to Leila. “Do you come here a lot?”
“No, not that much.”
“What about…your brother?” I ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.
“He definitely comes here more than me. There’s nothing else like this in Corvallis, so sometimes the guys come here for some entertainment.”
Sure, “entertainment”…
I sip my beer and look around, but I suspect it will be impossible to spot Thomas among all these people. I’m just about to let my thoughts completely spiral when Tiffany grabs my hand and drags Leila and me both onto the dance floor.
“We are here to have fun,” she shouts at me. “So quit thinking and have some fun!” Tiffany lets loose to the music with moves that make both Leila and me burst out laughing. I envy her vitality, her ability to enjoy herself, to be with other people and just dance without caring about anything else.
Leila joins Tiffany, and I force myself to let go as well. The three of us dance, waving our arms in the air, moving our hips, and laughing like fools. Our thrashing attracts the attention of three boys. Two of them start dancing with Tiff and Leila, and I’m left alone with the third, who puts his arm around me and pulls me closer to him. I instantly tense up. Under the colored lights, I can see his amused grin and his lascivious gaze lingering on my cleavage. On instinct, I pull my jacket tighter around myself and slip from his grasp.
“Gotta go to the bathroom; I’ll be right back!” I yell in Tiffany’s ear, though it takes two attempts for her to understand me. She offers to go with me, but I tell her there’s no need. I make my way through the crowd, dodging a few guys who approach me before I feel someone grab my ass. I spin around quickly, but it’s hard to identify a culprit in this crush of people. Yuck.
Suddenly, in the midst of all this confusion, I spot what appearsto be a familiar figure in the distance. Squinting my eyes to get a better look, I can see a guy with broad shoulders. His arms, exposed by his black T-shirt, are covered in a series of tattoos.Histattoos. My heart is in my throat.
It’s him.
