His Identity

28

|Aveline's POV|

I walk in the club, my palms sweaty and digging in the pocket of my jeans, my heart beating faster than usual and my anxiety all over the place.

I don't know why I even came here alone. I should've brought someone with me but Amelie said I should come alone which I know is a bad idea but I did it anyway because I'm stupid as fuck.

Luckily for me, the place isn't as crowded as last time since it's a Wednesday night.

Yesterday when I got home after the anniversary party, I received a message from an unknown number who introduced herself as my mother, Amelie and asked me to meet her at the same club Nick and I went the other day.

I thought it was weird but then I was like, 'fuck it what's the worst that could happen?' Now I'm starting to regret this whole thing.

I scan the place, ignoring the bright colorful lights flashing in my eyes. Amelie said she'll be around. How very informative of her. Note the sarcasm. That little shit. I swear she hates me for existing.

"Uh," the sound of someone clearing their throat behind me makes me turn around to find a very confused looking man. "Abigail?" He raises his brows at me.

"Aveline," I correct.

"Ah, yes, yes," he nods, his lips twitching into a smile, "Amelie sent me. She's backstage. If you'd follow me, I'll take you to her." He reaches out and grabs my arm but I'm quick to shrug him off, taking a rather large step back. "No, thank you. I already know where that is. I'll manage."

His smile fades away and a scowl takes place instead. He gives me a firm nod before walking away, tugging his hands in the pockets of his pants. I stare at his retreating figure with a frown. That was weird. Whatever. I have better shit to deal with.

Following the same path Nick and I took the other day, I reach the familiar door. Opening it, I'm met with the exact same view as last time. I make my way past the women, ignoring their eyes on me as I search for the woman I'm here for.

They're probably wondering what the hell is a girl who's wearing a red black lapel buttons plaid pocket blouse and a pair of jeans in a club like this. Or maybe they just remember me from last time. Either way, I forget about them when my eyes settle on Amelie.

"Aveline," she speaks, standing in front of the door she had walked through with Nick the other time.

"Amelie," I match her blank tone. "I hope whatever you have to say is worth my time."

"Woke up and decided to be a bitch, I see," she says, her lips pulling up into a frown, "whatever, come along." Her hand reaches out to the handle of the door behind her and she twists it open, motioning for me to get inside, "we have important things to talk about."

I walk in and I know she followed me when I hear the door click shut. Turning around, she nods towards a set of couches, "have a seat. Make yourself comfortable, we're going to be here for a while."

"No, we're not." I go and sit nonetheless, "I'd appreciate it if you say whatever the hell you have to as quick as you possibly can. I have plans." I don't but a little lie would cause no harm. Plus, the less time I spend with her, the longer my sanity will remain.