“Thank you,” Aurora tells the bouncer while strutting her way in. He doesn’t even bother to ask you – a flash of her black credit card with golden letters. It feels like cheating, and you shirk as you walk in while a couple of girls scream at you.
You’re not just stepping into one of the hottest clubs in Tyneside. You’re going straight into the VIP spot, where you see an exclusive bar and a corridor leading straight into the DJ booth. (And it’s not any DJ, either. Your sister would kill you if she knew you were on the same place as Peter Marson, one of EDM’s rising stars.)
As you arrive at the VIP spot, Aurora claims the vantage spot, twirling her finger. “Drink anything you want. It’s on me.”
“You know me,” Samantha says as she sits. “Non-alcoholic stuff. Else, Mom’s gonna skin me.”
Too early for that joke, don’t you think?
“How about you?” the rich girl asks. “First time in one of these places?”
“I can’t believe it...” You sit beside her, in awe. “We’re not supposed to be here!”
“My brother knows the owner of this establishment,” she explains. “Hell - he owes him that it exists in the first place! So, the bouncers keep a blind eye on me and my friends, but I still gotta pay for everything I consume. The card's not necessary - it's just to prank them.”
“Oh,” your friend says, patting Aurora’s thigh. “You should tell her about the time with the new bouncer.”
She covers her face, laughing. “It was a couple months ago. I brought Sammie and a couple of my friends, and I notice someone new’s on the door. I call Josef – that's the owner of this place – and he promises me it won’t be an issue, but he still blocks me after I hand my ID.”
“And then,” Samantha follows, “Rory goes ‘look, I know the owner of this place, I just talked to him, if you have any doubts...’, that kind of stuff, and he insists. Rory just stays there, calls again, and says ‘this asshole’s keeping me outside’. You should’ve seen his face – Rory, how about you show it to Laurie?”
“Oh, he goes ‘hold on’, and looks at the guy, and Barry – he’s a sweetheart, keeping creeps away from us. He’s like a cool big brother, keeping us in check. Anyways, he goes ‘Mr. Ahmadian wants to talk to you’.” Aurora then mimics a thousand-yard stare before continuing. “It was like if he saw Death in the face.”
“What happened?” you ask, though you suspect the response.
“Josef fired him. Not like he fully booted him – he still lets him in, and he even gave him a recommendation letter and some advice.”
You notice why Samantha wanted you to meet her cousin. It’s not just because she’s rich. It’s because she’s so approachable – she barely knows you, and she treats you as if you were friends.
It’s almost like if she was Sammie’s sister, Lauren tells you. She probably appreciates it, not having sisters of her own.
You agree with her observation. Samantha has been clinging to her from the moment you met, and compared to Philippa, they have a much closer relationship.
You also realize there is something that the pens seem to transmit. Though you can’t tap into Lauren’s memories, you can tap into her thoughts, into her skills, and – seemingly – into her emotions. You know she’s conflicted – you feel a tinge of envy in your heart, but also guilt.
“If I didn’t know Sammie better, I’d swear you’re sisters.”
“We were raised close as kids,” Aurora tells you. “Mom and Aunt Phyllis were always very close, and she’d bring Sammie in so we’d spend summers together instead of sending her to camp like with Adam and Aiden.”
“Rory’s an only child, so Uncle Lawrence agreed to have me around. Oh – that reminds me! Did you tell Laurie about the day Uncle Lawrence had you do the piano recital?”
“Sammie, I don’t wanna remember that...” She tells the story, but you tune out. Lauren’s reaction mystifies you more.
You’re jealous that Samantha relates more to Aurora than to you?
You feel a huge sigh vibrating through you. They’re so close. I wish I could be close to her. But... I can’t blame them. They’re family. I’m just a friend.
If you were her – really her, not just wearing her skin – you'd be dying for a distraction. And to your fortune, it arrives in the form of a quartet of boys that waste no time scurrying towards you. (Yes, even to Philippa, which surprises you as her attire is so out of place that you’d be surprised she’d attract someone.)
“Hey girls,” one of them says, flashing a wolfish grin. “Heard you were looking for some partnership, babe.”
“Only the best for my guests,” Aurora claims proudly. She brings you two close, holding your hands. “Greg, you probably know my cousin Samantha.”
“Of course I do,” he says, kissing her hand. “Always lovely to see you, darling.”
As her cousin flutters her eyelids, flirting with a grin, Aurora introduces you. “And this is her best friend Lauren Doherty. Don’t mind her – she's a bit shy.”
“That’s how they always start,” he tells her before grabbing your hand. “I should go to Edgefield a bit more. You’re gorgeous.”
“Uh...” You grin weakly, disturbed by his advances. “Thank you.”
“Gregory Albright,” he introduces himself, kissing your hand. You realize why you feel so uncomfortable – his cold blue eyes and sharp look giving him the stare of a predator, with his impossibly white teeth matching the mood, and his lithe physique and the way he bends feels like he’s ready to pounce. “Tynemouth First Year, Business College.”
Probably a rich kid that got through without issue, you think to yourself. You feel that, if Tina was here, she’d deck him for stealing her spot.
“And my boyfriend,” Aurora adds while stealing a kiss from him. “By the way,” she says, introducing the rest, “these are Marlon, Lucian and Hayes.”
You figure that, if you were attracted to boys, you’d probably be salivating for them.
Take for example Marlon Albright. A handsome black boy around your age, he’s your “partner” for the night, though you haven’t sent him flying out of courtesy. He has the air of a St. Lenoran high-blood with his olive-green eyes and fine features, but his afro flattop with stylish fade suggests a street background. He’s also dressed out of place, his royal blue preppy kid look too dapper for his designer Jordans.
Despite what Gregory and his posse suggest, Marlon seems content with just talking – though he insists to keep an arm around you. Being so tall and athletic, you wouldn’t suspect him to be the brains of the group – he's already accepted at MIT for Engineering, yet he plans to complete a Business major in Tynemouth later. You feel he’s either overambitious or a braggart, especially when he tells you about being in the polo and lacrosse teams.
In contrast, Lucian Hawkesworth seems like the oddball of the group. If Gregory looks like a wolf, Lucian looks somewhere between a vampire and a goth reject - jet black hair in a parted page, liner on his eyes, very pale skin, but a cool leather jacket and chains hanging from his tight jeans.
You’re disgusted by how Samantha’s hounding him, biting his lip with her kisses and giggling to every comment he makes. Is Jimmy really that desperate to score?
But the oddest pairing comes with Anderson Hayes. Blonde, buzzcut, built like a linebacker – which, given his Tyneside High jacket, he probably is – with a gentle, baby face, he could easily wreck up anyone’s day, but you notice he’s a gentle giant. And for some unexplained reason, he’s head over heels for Philippa, bringing the odd smile in her otherwise mortified face.
“Hey,” Marlon tells you, jerking his chin towards the dance floor. “Greg here tells me you girls can dance. Care to see?”
You glance at Samantha, and she nods before taking the lead, dragging Lucian with her. You sigh, nodding. “Uh, sure.”
You close your eyes, pleading with Lauren to help you. Hey. I need your best dance moves.
Just keep that creep off me, you hear her respond. And it appears strange to you, because Marlon’s not too bad looking. Sammie didn’t tell me she’d bring boys!
You step into the dance floor as the DJ prepares for his next song. It’s full of pumping beats in between smooth, almost wavey distortions, but it’s definitely a party song. You let her set the rhythm, and after a single glance at Samantha, you let her take the wheel.
It’s the most haunting experience – like when she urged you to sing. It’s not like she’s controlling your moves – it's like a gentle hand guides your hips, and they move in unison. Soon, you snap your hair in front, rising slowly, and when the beats drop, you shake your ass with reckless abandon. As it ends, you turn around and step back, pushing Marlon away.
And just like that, you lose yourself to the rhythm. You lose yourself to Lauren. And strangely... you’re enjoying it.
--
It’s been a while after dancing, and the boys decided to play “spin the bottle”, of all things. It’s the third round, and you already saw Greg having to pucker up with Philippa, then Samantha clinging up to Marlon with such an enthusiasm that made you rage, as he grabbed her ass and squeezed it without a thought.
It’s the third spin. The bottle starts to wobble, slowing down. The slim end is pointing close to you. And the rear end...
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