She and Grace also did my makeup. I have on more eyeliner and mascara than usual and they did some contouring magic that makes me look like I have a more excellent bone structure than I do. I’ve always liked playing around with makeup, but never been that great at it. My mom hardly wore it when I was growing up, and playing tennis, I didn’t worry about it because I’d just sweat it off.
Ev tried to put red lipstick on me, but I talked her down to some gloss. I didn’t want to worry about getting it all over my face. My hair is down and curly like usual. I’ve always loved my hair. Well, okay, not always. There was a short period in middle school where I desperately wanted to have straight hair like all my friends. But I came to terms with it at some point. I can get it straight, but it requires an awful lot of effort, and at the first blip of humidity or sweat, it would have all been for nothing.
That’s too much to worry about. Tonight I want to dance and have fun with my friends.
“I wonder how much longer.” Ev steps out of line to check the front door, where security is letting people in. We’ve been inching forward for the past thirty minutes. Heaters are set up along the sidewalk – a nice touch since none of the women are dressed to be standing outside in late December.
Apparently, there’s a limit to how many people can be inside or something. Which is bullshit because I’ve seen several people walk right up and get in.
She sticks her bottom lip out in a pout as she comes to stand back in front of me. “Maybe we should have just gone to a bar or invited people over to the house.”
“What? No way. We’re getting in,” Grace says. “Come on.”
She grabs both me and Everly and drags us with her to the man dressed in all black blocking the entrance. He’s an intimidating dude. He doesn’t even speak and I want to run back to our spot in line. But not Grace. She gives him her sweetest smile.
“Hi. I’m Grace, this is Everly and Bridget.”
He glances down at his clipboard, which I can now see is a list of names. I try to read them upside down.
“We’re not on your list, but it’s her birthday.” Grace looks back at Everly as the guy takes in the three of us standing with pleading eyes in front of him.
Everly raises a hand and flashes a smile that’s more like a grimace.
“So, if you could—”
He moves out of the way and unclips the black rope to get into the club. “Have fun, ladies.”
The three of us are frozen in place for several seconds where we share a surprised smile, then hustle into the club. Holy shit, that actually worked?
The music is louder with each step. We could hear it outside, but in here I can feel it. Another bouncer checks our IDs before we’re allowed onto the main floor. Everly and Grace get yellow bands since they’re underage.
The club is three floors. The second floor is the one we’re on now. There’s a large bar on the right side and seating on the left. The center of the room is open, creating a circle walkway that looks down to the first floor, where the DJ is set up and people are dancing. The top floor looks like private rooms. It’s too dark to make out details, but it has that sleek and clean look of a new business.
The three of us huddle together.
“You are amazing!” Everly hugs Grace. “Thank you.”
“Very impressive,” I add, basically screaming over the bass thumping.
“I was so scared I thought I was gonna pee.” Grace laughs. “Let’s get a drink and walk around. This place is huge.”
We start for the bar, but a woman cuts us off. She looks to be a little older than us and has on a dress that’s more business than club. She’s still rocking it, but she has an air of authority about her that makes us all pause.
“Are you Everly?” she asks, looking directly at the woman standing between me and Grace.
“Yeah,” Ev answers with more than a little defensiveness in her stance.
“If you’ll follow me.” She smiles so sweetly. The three of us share a confused look, but decide to go after her anyway.
She leads us up a small staircase. The third floor is similar to the second in that it’s open and you can look down on the floors below, but this area is less crowded.
Leather couches and chairs are set up in groups and there are two bars, one on each side. People watch us as we follow her to a section of furniture that’s empty. She motions with one hand. “Rachel is your private bartender for the night. Anything you need, let her know.”
And with that, the woman turns on her heel and leaves us.