For the Both of Us

Chapter One: The Party

"Are you sure this is the right address?" The cab driver asked, looking out the window, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Yupp, I'm positive!" Nicky said, going back to rummaging in her purse.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Doesn't look right, Nick." That much was obvious. The streets were quiet and dark, not to mention deserted, which made no sense despite the fact that it was almost midnight. They didn't call it "the city who never sleeps" for no reason.

Outside the window, I could only make out a narrow basement entrance lined with trash cans, the dim yellowish glow emerging from inside flickering on and off. In front of the entrance, on the sidewalk, were a pair of white, metal stairs that led to God knows where.

I inhaled a sharp breath. When Nicky had told me that the party was going to be in South Jamaica, one of the middle-class neighborhoods in Queens, I had refused to go with her. Nicky had begged and begged and pointed out that I would be a bad friend if I risked letting her go all on her own, which had been convincing enough. Now, I wished I had stuck to my word.

"No, this is it, I'm sure. Don't worry". Nicky said, handing the cab driver some cash.

"Alright," he said with a shrug, "but be careful, this isn't a safe neighborhood for two young ladies to be wondering alone. "

Nicky gave him a polite smile. "Thank you, Sir, but we're not alone."

We stepped out of the car, into the chilling weather, and with a last concerning glance at us, the cab driver drove back into the tunnel, the roar of the engine the only sound in the quiet night.

My heart squeezed painfully inside my chest, and I wrapped my coat tighter around my body, wanting to hide my bare stomach.

"Come on," Nicky slid her hand in mine and pulled me to climb the stairs after her. A feeling of reassurance passed through me. At least we weren't going in through the creepy basement.

"Where do these stairs lead to?" I asked. They were creaking loudly as we stepped on them.

Nicky threw a glance back at me. Her eyes were dancing with excitement. "You'll see."

And I did.

We reached the top of the stairs and arrived at a somewhat large square enclosed by tall apartment buildings. The space was built on top of the tunnel, I realized with astonishment. It was deserted and empty - except for two goalposts standing on the far right coner - but brightly lit by the buildings' flood lights.

Nicky walked towards one of the buildings, her heels click-clacking on the stone pavement.

The buildings were old and rusty, the white cement pealed in certain places. The walls outlining the ground floor of the building we were heading towards were covered in spray painted black writings and beautiful, caricatural drawings of faces that I didn't recognize. The number 4 dug in in black above the entrance.

A group of guys were sitting by the door on rusty metal chairs, chatting loudly. The ground below their feet was covered in cigarette buds, wraps of chips and empty alcohol bottles, which was a bad sign, but a very common one in neighborhoods such as these, I guessed.

I sucked in a loud breath, feeling the shivers cripple down my spine. There was something shady about this place, it radiated the kind of ambiance that was present in movies revolving around drug dealer characters.

As we approached, the group of guys sitting outside turned to look at us. I wrapped my arms around my body, fighting the urge to call the driver back and ask him to take me home.