“How about this,” I started to suggest, “we set up a scoring system right now and that way I can just give you a number, it says it all and I avoid being sued.”
“One, he’s shit, not worth discussing and you’re dumping his ass but keeping the phone, shoes, bags, dresses and etc.” She said instantly and went on, “Two, he’s shit but not such bad shit it’s worth losing the apartment, the ride and the VIP section. Three, he’s still shit but there were moments. Four, he’s somewhat shit but only because you think it’s new and worth another go and it’ll get better. Five, average and workable. Six, slightly above average and promising. Seven, he got you off in a happy way but there’s room for improvement. Eight, all good and possibility of getting better. Nine, he rocked your world. Ten, he created all new ones and you never wanna come up for air. Work for you?”
“I’m not sure I’ll remember that.”
“Well, I will so don’t worry. I’ll give you a refresher when the time comes.”
She so would.
I burst out laughing.
Viv slid her arm around my waist, pulled me close and she burst out laughing too.
I slid mine around her waist and once I quit laughing, I took a sip of my San Pellegrino with lemon in it.
Then I turned my head, tipped it back the inch it had to go to catch my girl’s eyes, leaned close and whispered, “I so love you.”
“And I so love you too. And, babe, let me tell you, this guy is real, doesn’t play you and fulfills the promise everything about him shouts straight out, I will get on my knees and thank God. Because since you were born, you deserved great. And since you were seven years old, you got shit and then worked your ass off for every little scrap of good you could earn. And if he’s the sun finally on your horizon, I’m naming my first boy after him. Which, admittedly, is not a hardship since his name is badass and not Herbert. But, still.”
I smiled into her tawny eyes.
She smiled into my gray ones.
Then she sucked back martini.
I sucked back water.
Then I asked, “Wanna dance?”
To which Vivica answered, “Absolutely.”
Then we set our drinks aside and hit the dance floor.
* * * * *
Fifteen minutes later, on the dance floor I felt a hand on the small of my back that didn’t move.
I twisted my neck and blinked at Hulk.
He leaned in and shouted in my ear, “Knight wants you off the dance floor.”
I couldn’t have possibly heard him right.
So I leaned into him, still swaying to the music and shouted back, “What?”
He kept his mouth to my ear, hand to the small of my back and repeated, “Woman, Knight wants you off the dance floor.”
I pulled back, caught his eyes and asked, “Off?”
He nodded. “Yup.”
“The dance floor?”
Another nod. “Yup.”
What on earth?
“Why?” I asked.
“I don’t question, I just do. And Knight wants you off the dance floor.”
I leaned into him and shouted, “What if I don’t go?”
“Then I carry you to his office, lock you in, tell him you declined and leave you to explain to him why you did.”
Oh God.
I looked up toward the window to Knight’s office.
I didn’t know what to do. I liked to dance. I didn’t like to be told I couldn’t. Not at all. But this was his party and he’d paid for it in a lot of ways which was something at that moment I did not like.
Crap.
I looked at Hulk.
He’d carry me to Knight’s office. Totally.
Crap!
I turned to Vivica who was moving but watching and I put my hands to my mouth.
“Gonna go back to the section,” I shouted.
Her eyes shifted from me to Hulk to me.
Then her hands went to her mouth and she shouted back, “Like I said. Hold the f**k on.”
Then she swayed away and started to bust a move which was also Viv’s way. She could dance alone and get into it and she didn’t even have to be tipsy.
Hulk escorted me to the VIP section.
I went back to my San Pellegrino and looked up to Knight’s window. I also took several deep breaths.
Right, okay.
Talk to him. Ask what gives. Listen.
Then decide.
A couple of my friends wandered over to me and I went back to having a different kind of fun that didn’t involve booze or dancing.
* * * * *
The club was emptying out and I was standing at Knight’s window watching it.
Hulk had escorted me up to Knight’s empty office before he had escorted a shitfaced Sandrine and not-shitfaced but definitely happy Vivica out the back way to the waiting car so he could take them home.
My friends were all gone, it was after three in the morning and my night with Knight was finally starting.
As I watched out his window, even though the lights were up, the music was off, stragglers were gathering their stuff and moseying out and the staff was beginning clean up, I was fascinated. And since I’d been standing there for the last half an hour before the lights went up and the music was off, I’d been fascinated a while. In fact, there was so much happening, so much to see, so many people and it was so easy to see it all from this vantage point, I figured I could watch it for hours and never get bored.
The one thing that bothered me was that you could see everything. Absolutely everything. And if you were a handsome, wealthy club owner who could pick and choose, you could stand there and select from your smorgasbord of pu**y.
You could also see your new girlfriend dancing and send your lackey to make her stop on a whim.
On this thought, the door opened. I twisted my neck and watched Knight walk in.
It really kind of sucked that he looked just as good in a suit as he did in a faded Metallica t-shirt and jeans. And it sucked because I couldn’t decide which Knight I liked better.
“Hey, baby,” he said while closing the door behind him.
“I like to dance,” I blurted and his head tipped to the side.
He held my eyes and he did this for some time while I waited.
Then he said, “Right, it’s time to talk about this anyway.”
Then he walked to his desk.
I watched thinking, Talk about what?
He sat behind his desk and ordered, “Come here, Anya.”
I turned from the window, walked to his desk and stopped at the opposite side but remained standing.
Leaned back in his chair looking up at me, he stated quietly, “Baby, I said, come here.”