Page 21 of Legally Mine

Chapter 5

Eric and I ended up at a club in Chinatown, the kind of place off Beacon Street where college kids went to feel more grown up and where investment bankers went to get laid. I just wanted to get lost. Even from the street I could smell the booze, and loud bass lines practically vibrated through the asphalt. It was still relatively early on a Friday night, but the place was already packed with people.

"You clean up pretty good, Crosby," Eric said for the third time, taking in my dress with appreciation.

I pretended to kick at him.

"I feel like Club Barbie," I said. "And stop leering at me like that. It's gross."

Eric made a face. "I didn't mean it like that; you're like my sister."

"Exactly."

The truth was, I was actually relieved that Eric made me change. The club was basically a sardine tin, and, considering it was already a warm night, the short black mini dress I chose had the dual benefits of being cute and cool. I had kept the silver chains, the hoops, and my silver-tipped boots and had put my unruly red waves into a high ponytail to keep them off my neck.

"Well?" Eric asked loudly over the music as he held his hand out like a tour guide. "What do you think?"

I looked around the club. It was basically just an old brick factory building that had been converted into a night club. Exposed brick walls provided insulation for the bass lines that traveled through the floorboards and into my bones. The dark red lighting created a hedonistic air that was only augmented by the young, lithe bodies filling the space from top to bottom. They writhed to the music, chattered over the bass lines, and cast eyes across dark spaces before sneaking off together to darker corners. It was basically sex incarnate.

"I think I've wandered into an alternate universe," I mumbled. This had never been my scene, and yet here I was, by request.

We were surrounded by investment wonks and other urban professionals just off from work, all enjoying drinks and listening to 1990s throwbacks. A DJ "spun" on his computer from the far corner of the club, which was done up like A Night at the Roxbury with silvery-blue velvet lounges and a long chrome bar swarming with lines of people. The familiar drum beat of "Poison", that old Bel Biv Devoe song, shouted over the loudspeakers, and the entire club erupted.

It was clear that this wasn't just a spot where colleagues came to kick back. This was a place where people went to meet other people. New people. The old-school music set a sexy, carefree vibe that seemed to be lulling all of the patrons together, like the beginning of some kind of hedonistic ritual. The orgy wasn't happening yet, but you had the feeling it would eventually.

It seemed like a decent enough place to forget everything that had been happening in my life lately. I needed a distraction, and that was the order of the day.

I followed Eric to the bar and stood beside him while he waved down a bartender and ordered our drinks: a whiskey soda for me and a beer for him.

"So how does this work?" I called out over the loud music and the clamor of voices around us. "I've never been a dude's wingman before. Won't these girls think you're with me?"

Eric snorted and took a sip of his beer. "No one comes here with their boyfriends. If they do, they're just setting themselves up for a more intense chase. Look, Cros, all you need to do is stand there. You see something you like, just make eye contact, and he'll come to you."

"And you?"

Eric gave me a particularly sharkish smile that gave his otherwise unintimidating face a rakish appeal. "Oh, that's easy. First I pretend they don't exist. Then I pretend they're the only thing I see."

I scowled. "You make these girls think you're in love with them so you can trick them into sex?"

"Please. No one ever says anything about love." Eric looked down at me sharply. "You're not going to start butting in on my sex life, are you? I left my nosy family in New York for a reason."

I held my hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, it's not my business. These girls want to get involved with your slutty ass, that's their issue. You're not going to ask me to shut up when I have my own opinions, are you?"

Eric chuckled and threw an arm around my shoulder. "Never dream of it, sis."

He looked around the room. A leggy brunette was making eyes at him from the other end of the bar. She was wedged between at least two other men trying to buy her drinks, but obviously was interested in my "date." Eric clearly knew what he was talking about.

"Target identified?" I asked.

Eric glanced at the brunette with a look that made me feel like I had been undressed just by proximity. She flushed clearly, even in the dim lights of the club. The guy next to her was talking, but she didn't respond as Eric then looked around at everything besides her.

"Looks that way." Eric pushed off the bar, beer in hand. "You going to be okay?" he asked kindly. "I can hang for a bit. There are a lot of fish in this particular sea."

I shifted back and forth on the balls of my feet. "Hey, I came here to get lost for, not to cramp your style. I'll be fine."

Eric gave me the signature grin that probably got him more tail than most men in Boston.

"All right. I'll keep an eye out. Give me a wave if you need a rescue."

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