She does have a point. But she also has me excited, and I haven’t been excited to go out since the night I helped her at the VSA’s, and technically that was a work obligation…even if I was the furthest from professional.
My core clenches at the memory of that night. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve looked Blade up a few more times since that night. I get little notification bells when he goes live or uploads a video. There’s something comforting about his voice. Although, part of me wonders if it’s a little obsessive.
I haven’t gotten off again from watching him, though. Not that the temptation hasn’t been there, but…I just couldn’t do it. Not with the way things are going with Aleks. Shit. What does it say about me? That I’m hot over two different guys in the span of a month right after getting out of a five year relationship?
Nothing. Actually. It says nothing about me. Sex is healthy. Pleasure is healthy.
“We don’t slut shame in this house.”
“No, we don’t. But why do you bring that up?” Deanna drops a handful of clothes at my feet and gives me a quizzical look.
“What?”
“You said we don’t slut shame.”
“Oh, no I was just…did I?”
She laughs and drops a few heels into the pile of clothes.
“Your mind riding the dick train again?”
I give her a small grin and drop out of the chair onto the floor.
“I’m riding first class, currently,” I tease.
“Only the best for my girl. Now, go through the shit you’ve left at my place and find a hot fit for tonight.” She gestures to the mishmash of clothing I’m currently perched in front of. “I expect you to make your way into the cockpit tonight.” She gives me a wink.
“Cockpits are in planes, not trains.”
“Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to.” Deanna rolls her eyes and walks off into her room, leaving me to scavenge. I sift through the clothes for a few minutes before finding an old gem. A two-piece miniskirt and crop top set that I haven’t worn since last spring. The fabric is soft black satin. The miniskirt has a high waist and a small slit; the top has a built-in bra with a satin cowl neck draped over, and the straps are lined with diamantes, matching the hem of the skirt. The exact outfit I need for tonight. I grin to myself as I gather the clothes in my arms and clutch them to my chest.
It’s going to be a hot-girl night.
TWENTY
* * *
ALEKS
“I’m pretty sure that girl just flashed us her tits.”
I know that girl just flashed us her tits because she yelled my name as she did it. I’m more surprised that I could hear her over the music than at the show she tried to give me.
The club is hot and sweaty. We’re in the VIP section at our own table, which is located on the second level of the club. It overlooks the general dance floor and main bar, as well as a couple of the cheaper tables customers can reserve. Cheaper, meaning they go for around two or three grand. This new place isn’t as upper level as The Blue Petal, where the minimum starts at five grand, but it isn’t as basic as Horizon, where the tables start at five hundred dollars.
Orange neon lights flash around the black interior of the club before switching to a blinding white. I have to give the owners credit; they really went all out with the vibe of this place. There is a giant LED tiger set up behind the DJ booth, and sprinkled around the walls of the club are neon claw marks. There is smoke that feeds in from the vents on the upper level where we are, dousing the VIP area in a slight haze. They’ve even got a couple of custom glasses with neon orange bases here in VIP, and I’m pretty sure I saw a bottle of tequila that was neon as well. Our VIP wristbands are also bright orange, but the stamp to get in is a black light-sensitive lightning bolt.
Everyone turned out tonight even though Electric Tyger has only been open a few days. They had their soft launch last Saturday and have had a solid lineup of events and DJs throughout the week. For Saturday, they’ve brought out one of the top female DJs making the rounds in Cali nightlife currently, ATHENA. Her transitions have been smooth, and her mixes are sick. The bass of the EDM music flooding through the speakers bounces off my skin, a steady hum bumping through me. We’re not close enough to her setup to feel it more than that, but I wish we were, so the music would be pounding in my chest.
I go to run my hand through my hair only to smack it against the top of my mask. I sigh. Wearing the masks in public isn’t easy in the first place, but wearing them in a club? Way worse. Sweat pools under the plastic and the haze from the smoke machines makes our vision through the LED lights horrible. It’s easier to look out onto the clear dance floor below than look three feet in front of me. At least the orange neon lights don’t make a difference, although I’m sure it looks a little weird to Jackson and Parker through their mask colors.
“Could you at least pretend you’re having fun?”
Allison Lee leans over Jackson so she can yell the words at me over the music. The two tiny braids framing her face sway as she bops her head, straight black hair swishing behind. I lift my gloved hand and start fist bumping to the music for a few beats, just to have her laugh in my face and settle back in against the black leather booth that cocoons our table. If we’d had it our way, the boys and I would have just hit up a bar near our place or gone to one of the clubs Parker’s friends own. Unfortunately, all the top streamers in Cali, currently, were invited out tonight. We have three of the six tables in VIP all to ourselves for the night, bottle service and more included. I have absolutely zero interest in touching any of the cocaine that is currently being passed, and I keep having to reject random vapes being thrown my way.
Turns out the owners are big investors in esports and are looking to expand their horizons to streaming. Which is why the three of us are sitting shoulder to shoulder in this club, struggling to breathe in these masks and unable to even indulge in the free booze because of them. No cocktail straws tonight.
“I’m going to take some shots in the bathroom. Want to join me?”
Parker flashes a handle of Don Julio in my face.
I don’t really want to take shots in the bathroom. I do, however, want alcohol. I also don’t trust Parker to make his way to and from the bathroom in one piece. The guy is smart, probably smarter than Jackson and I combined, but he has a habit of being too nice. Someone will probably ask to take a swig of his handle, and the next thing I know, he’ll be up on a table with a bunch of chicks who have downed the whole thing, and his pictures will be all over the internet, some stupid hashtag trending. Sydney would have a conniption. She’s already livid that I bailed on the photoshoot this morning. I don’t need more reasons for her to be mad at me, and she would for sure blame anything that goes wrong tonight on me just out of spite.
“Sure.”
We push up from the couch, but Jackson catches my wrist. I flick my thumb towards the bathroom, and he nods before going back to monitor Allison and her friends—ever the protector.
We shoulder our way through the bodies lingering in VIP. There are probably a solid forty streamers here, some I recognize, others I don’t. We flash our wristbands to the security guard outside the men’s bathroom before heading in. There are only three stalls here in addition to the five urinals. After checking that no one else is inside, I pop back out and slip the guard a hundred to hold anyone else from entering.