I get up and slip my purse strap over my shoulder.
Its only two oclock, I say.
I drink down the last of my latte and toss the empty cup away in the same trash can.
Yeah, but first weve got to get you a new outfit.
Uh, no. I say resolutely as shes walking me out the glass doors and into the breezy summer air. Going to The Underground with you is more than good deed enough. I refuse to go shopping. Ive got plenty of clothes.
Natalie slips her arm around mine as we walk down the sidewalk and past a long line of parking meters. She grins and glances over at me. Fine. Then youll at least let me dress you from something out of my closet.
Whats wrong with my own wardrobe?
She purses her lips at me and draws her chin in as if to quietly argue why I even asked a question so ridiculous. Its The Underground, she says, as if there is no answer more obvious than that.
OK, she has a point. Natalie and I may be best friends, but with us its an opposites attract sort of thing. Shes a rocker chick whos had a crush on Jared Leto since Fight Club. Im more of a laid-back kind of girl who rarely wears dark-colored clothes unless Im attending a funeral. Not that Natalie wears all black or has some kind of emo hair thing going on, but she would never be caught dead in anything from my closet because she says its all just too plain. I beg to differ. I know how to dress, and guyswhen I used to pay attention to the way they eyed my ass in my favorite jeanshave never had a problem with the clothes I choose to wear.
But The Underground was made for people like Natalie and so I guess Ill have to endure dressing like her for one night just to fit in. Im not a follower. I never have been. But Ill definitely become someone Im not for a few hours if itll make me blend in rather than make me a blatant eye sore and draw of attention.
Two
We make it to The Underground just as night falls, but not before driving around in Damons souped-up truck to various houses. He would pull into the driveway, get out and stay inside no more than three or four minutes and never say a word when he came back out. Ive known him almost as long as Ive known Natalie, but Ive never been able to accept his drug habits. He grows copious amounts of weed in his basement, but hes not a pothead. In fact, no one but me and a few of his close friends would ever suspect that a hot piece of ass like Damon Winters would be a grower, because most growers look like white trash and often have hairdos that are stuck somewhere between the 70s and 90s. Damon is far from looking like white trashhe could be Alex Pettyfers younger brother. And Damon says weed just isnt his thing. No, Damons drug of choice is cocaine and he only grows and sells weed to pay for his cocaine habit.
Natalie pretends that what Damon does is perfectly harmless. She knows that he doesnt smoke weed and says that weed really isnt that bad and if other people want to smoke it to chill out and relax, that she sees no harm in Damon helping with that.
She refuses to believe, however, that cocaine has seen more action from his face than any part of her body has.
OK, youre going to have a good time, right? Natalie bumps my backseat door shut with her butt after I get out and then she looks hopelessly at me. Just dont fight it and try to enjoy yourself.
I roll my eyes. Nat, I wouldnt deliberately try to hate it, I say. I do want to enjoy myself.
Damon comes around to our side of the truck and slips his arms around both of our waists. I get to go in with two hot chicks on my arms.
Natalie elbows him with a pretend resentful smirk. Shut up, baby. Youll make me jealous. Already shes grinning impishly up at him.
Damon lets his hand drop from her waist and he grabs a handful of her butt cheek. She makes a sickening moaning sound and reaches up on her toes to kiss him. I want to tell them to get a room, but Id be wasting my breath.
The Underground is the hottest spot just outside of downtown North Carolina, but you wont find it listed in the phone book. Only people like us know it exists. Some guy named Rob rented out an abandoned warehouse two years ago and spent about one million of his rich daddys money to convert it into a secret nightclub. Two years and going strong; the place has since become a spot where local rock sex gods can live the rock n roll dream with screaming fans and groupies. But its not a trashy joint. From the outside it might look like an abandoned building in a partial ghost town, but the inside is like any upscale hard rock nightclub equipped with colorful strobe lights that shoot continuously across the space, slutty-looking waitresses and a stage big enough for two bands to play at the same time.
To keep The Underground private, everybody who goes has to park elsewhere in the city and walk to it because a street lined with vehicles outside an abandoned warehouse is a dead giveaway.
We park in the back of a nearby Mickey Ds and walk about ten minutes through spooky town.
Natalie moves from Damons right side and gets in between us, but its just so she can torture me before we go inside.
OK, she says as if about to run down a list of dos and donts for me, If anybody asks, youre single, alright? She waves her hand at me. None of that stuff you pulled like with that guy who was hitting on you at Office Depot.
What was she doing at Office Depot? Damon says, laughing.
Damon, this guy was on her, Natalie says, totally ignoring the fact that Im right here. I mean like all she had to do was bat her eyes once and he wouldve bought her a caryou know what she said to him?
I roll my eyes and pull my arm out of hers. Nat, youre so stupid. It wasnt like that.
Yeah, babe, Damon says. If the guy works at Office Depot hes not going to be buying anybody any cars.
Natalie smacks him across the shoulder playfully. I didnt say he worked thereanyway, the guy looked like the lovechild of Adam Levine and she twirls her fingers around above her head to let another famous example materialize on her tongue, Jensen Ackles, and Miss Prudeness here told him she was a lesbian when he asked for her number.
Oh shut up, Nat! I say, irritated at her serious over-exaggeration illness. He did not look like either one of those guys. He was just a regular guy who didnt happen to be fugly.
She waves me away and turns back to Damon. Whatever. The point is that shell lie to keep them away. I dont doubt for a second that shed go as far as to tell a guy she has Chlamydia and an out of control case of crabs.
Damon laughs.
I stop on the dark sidewalk and cross my arms over my chest, chewing on the inside of my bottom lip in agitation.
Natalie, realizing Im not walking beside her anymore runs back towards me. OK! OK! Look, I just dont want you to ruin it for yourself, thats all. Im just asking that if someonewho isnt a total hunchbackhits on you that you not immediately push him away. Nothing wrong with talking and getting to know one another. Im not asking you to go home with him.
Im already hating her for this. She swore!
Damon comes up behind her and wraps his hands around her waist, nuzzling his mouth into her squirming neck.
Maybe you should just let her do what she wants, babe. Stop being so pushy.
Thank you, Damon, I say with a quick nod.
He winks at me.
Natalie purses her lips and says, Youre right, and then puts up her hands, I wont say anything else. I swear.
Yeah, I have heard that before
Good, I say and we all start walking again. Already these boots are killing my feet.
The ogre at the warehouse entrance inspects us at the door with his huge arms crossed in front.
He holds out his hand.
Natalies face twists into an offended knot. What? Is Rob charging now?
Damon reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, fingering the bills inside.
Twenty bucks a pop, the ogre says with a grunt.
Twenty? Are you fucking kidding me?! Natalie shrieks.
Damon gently pushes her aside and slaps three twenty dollar bills into the ogres hand. The ogre shoves the money into his pocket and moves to let us pass. I go first and Damon puts his hand on Natalies lower back to guide her in front of him.
She sneers at the ogre as she passes by. Probably going to keep it for himself, she says. Im going to ask Rob about this.
Come on, Damon says and we slip past the door and down one lengthy, dreary hallway with a single flickering florescent light until we make it to the industrial elevator at the end.
The metal jolts as the cage door closes behind us and were rather noisily riding to the basement floor many feet below. Its just one floor down, but the elevator rattles so much I feel like its going to snap any second and send us plunging to our deaths. Loud, booming drums and the shouting of drunk college students and probably a lot of drop-outs funnels through the basement floor and into the cage elevator, louder every inch we descend into the bowels of The Underground. The elevator rumbles to a halt and another ogre opens the cage door to let us out.
Natalie stumbles into me from behind. Hurry up! she says, pushing me playfully in the back. I think thats Four Collision playing! Her voice rises over the music as we make our way into the main room.
Natalie takes Damon by the hand and then tries to grab mine, but I know what she has in store and Im not going into a throng of bouncing, sweaty bodies wearing these stupid boots.
Oh, come on! she urges, practically begging. Then an aggravated line deepens around her nose and she thrusts my hand into hers and pulls me towards her. Stop being a baby! If anybody knocks you over, Ill personally kick their ass, alright?
Damon is grinning at me from the side.
Fine! I say and head out with them, Natalie practically pulling my fingers out of the sockets.
We hit the dance floor and after a while of Natalie doing what any best friend would do by grinding against me to make me feel included, she eases her way into Damons world only. She might as well be having sex with him right there in front of everybody, but no one notices. I only notice because Im probably the only girl in the entire place without a date doing the same thing. I take advantage of the opportunity and slip my way off the dance floor and head to the bar.
What can I getcha? the tall blond guy behind the bar says as I push myself up on my toes and take an empty barstool.
Rum and Coke.
He goes to make my drink. Hard stuff, huh? he says, filling the glass with ice. Going to show me your ID? He grins.
I purse my lips at him. Yeah, Ill show you my ID when you show me your liquor license. I grin right back at him and he smiles.
He finishes mixing the drink and slides it over to me.
I dont really drink much anyway, I say, taking a little sip from the straw.
Much?
Yeah, well, tonight I think Ill need a buzz. I set the glass down and finger the lime on the rim.
Whys that? he asks, wiping the bar top down with a paper towel.
Wait a second, I hold up one finger, before you get the wrong idea, Im not here to spill my guts to youbartender-customer therapy. Natalie is all the therapy I can handle.
He laughs. Well thats good to know because Im not the advice type.
I take another small sip, leaning over this time instead of lifting the glass from the bar; my loose hair falls all around my face. I rise back up and tuck one side behind my ear. I really hate wearing my hair down; its more trouble than its worth.
Well, if you must know, I say looking right at him, I was dragged here by my relentless best friend who would probably do something embarrassing to me in my sleep and take a blackmail pic if I didnt come.
Ah, one of those, he says, laying his arms across the bar top and folding his hands together. I had a friend like that once. Six months after my fiancée skipped out on me, he dragged me to a nightclub just outside of BaltimoreI just wanted to sit at home and sulk in my misery, but turns out that night out was exactly what I needed.
Oh great, this guy thinks he knows me already, or, at least my situation. But he doesnt know anything about my situation. Maybe he has the bad ex thing downbecause we all have that eventuallybut the rest of it, my parents divorce, my older brother, Cole, going to jail, the death of the love of my life Im not about to tell this guy anything. The moment you tell someone else is the moment you become a whiner and the worlds smallest violin starts to play. The truth is, we all have problems; we all go through hardships and pain, and my pain is paradise compared to a lot of peoples and I really have no right to whine at all.
I thought you werent the advice type? I smile sweetly.
He leans away from the bar and says, Im not, but if youre getting something out of my story then be grateful.
I smirk and take a fake sip this time. I dont really want a buzz and I definitely dont want to get drunk, especially since I have a feeling Im going to be the one driving us home again.
Trying to take the spotlight off me, I prop one elbow on the bar and rest my chin on my knuckles and say, So then what happened that night?
The left side of his mouth lifts into a grin and he says, shaking his blond head, I got laid for the first time since she left me and I remembered how good it felt to be unchained from one person.
I didnt expect that kind of answer. Most guys I know wouldve lied about their relationship phobia, especially if they were hitting on me. I kind of like this guy. Just as a guy, of course; Im not about to, as Natalie might say, bend over for him.
I see, I say, trying to hold in the true measure of my smile. Well, at least youre honest.
No other way to be, he says as he reaches for an empty glass and starts to make a Rum and Coke for himself. Ive found that most girls are as afraid of commitment as guys are these days and if youre up front in the beginning, youre more likely to come out of the one-nighter unscathed.
I nod, fitting my fingertips around my straw. Theres no way Id openly admit it to him, but I completely agree with him and even find it refreshing. Ive never really given it that much thought before, but as much as I dont want a relationship within one hundred feet of me, I am still human and I wouldnt mind a one-night stand.