Carmela + Amos

Chapter 16 - Amos

              Salsa music thumped across the street as everyone climbed out of the limousine Carlos insisted on renting for the night. The pavement was still slick from an earlier drizzle, but the clouds had parted, allowing the moon to shimmer silver light onto puddles. Amos couldn't remember the last time he went dancing as the neon sign flashed against the building of Pura Nightclub. It wasn't his type of scene. He preferred more intimate places like lounges and bars, where people didn't have to shout over the music to talk.

The ride there had been a stuffy one, with Carlos and Cassandra's friends jammed like sardines, bass bumping, and everyone pre-partying with champagne. Amos could barely even get in small-talk with Yvette from all the commotion, and it was like a preview of what the night would entail. He was already overwhelmed as he tugged at the collar of his button-up shirt. 

However, Cassandra was right. Yvette was gorgeous, and she seemed equally apprehensive as she adjusted the thin straps on her silky, emerald, thigh-skimming dress. Yet, it was oddly comforting knowing he wasn't the only uncomfortable one in the group.

"Bro-Montana!" Carlos threw his arm around him. "We're looking good tonight."

"We look like our mother dressed us as twins for picture day." 

"What? No way!" Carlos smoothed his hands down the embroidery on the white Guayabera, which matched Amos's. "Our shirts might be the same, but our pants are different."

"Thank God. I wouldn't be caught dead in those leather pants. Did you paint them on?"

"No. But my junk looks amazing in them. My ass too." 

"Cass, I could have sworn the deal was my brother had to wear normal pants," Amos grunted.

"Did you think he would listen?" Cassandra sighed. 

"Touché." 

"You two are squares. These pants look good on me!" Carlos huffed.

"Yes, they do, babe." Cassandra winked and squeezed his butt. "Damn good." 

"Damn straight." Carlos adjusted his collar. "Now, let's get in there and dance!"

"I'll be very impressed if you can salsa in those pants," Amos snorted.

"Trust me, bro. Watch and learn."

Taking the lead, Carlos began crossing the street, and the group followed like one giant possie of clacking high heels and cologne floating into the skyline of buildings. Trying to be a gentleman, Amos offered his arm to Yvette.

"Thank you." She smiled, enhancing her dimples. 

"Ever been here before?"

"First time."

"Same. So, it sounds like we'll experience this together then."

"If we ever get inside...." Yvette eyed the long line curling around the street.

"Nah, don't worry about it," Carlos said over his shoulder. "I reserved VIP. No velvet ropes for us to jump over."

"Why didn't you say something? I would have pitched in," Amos replied. 

"Don't worry about it, hermano! I've got connections. Now follow me."

They made their way past the line of flashy nightclubers and right up to the doorman, where Carlos high-fived a muscular man holding an iPad. Then, after a few whispered exchanges in each other's ears and shaking hands, the rope parted, and just like that, their group was motioned inside. 

The place immediately swallowed them in strobe light and neon laser beams, along with music so loud Amos could feel every beat rattle his ribcage. It was going to be a long night of yell-talking over each other, and he was already looking forward to going home as they inched their way to the reserved area. Their section was on the other side of the club, which meant weaving through sweaty, swaying bodies on the dance floor.