The Royal Heir - Dancing with my eyes closed

Safe

**This chapter contains NSFW content, recreational drug use and strong language**

**Also contains a stunning art scene by IGs artbyainna.**

***

I wasn't even aware tonight was Saturday night until I saw the security on the wine bar door and a modest queue of revellers waiting to get in. One of the guys on the door clocks me immediately as I approach, and inclines his head in the direction of the entrance.

"Aw, hey. Thanks man," I say, as I sneak in, leaving a bit of a commotion behind me.

"Aw, what? Who the fuck does he think he is?"

"Seriously? Did you not see who that was?"

I'm safely inside now and it's packed in here. Just the way I used to like it. The music's loud and it's hot as hell and you can't get across the room without brushing up against everyone else in it. Huh, at least the Ramsford nightlife scene has continued to thrive since my relocation to Valtoria.

I make my way to the bar, trying to keep a low profile as I get up close and personal with a room full of strangers. It helps that it's dark. I've not been in here for two years, but it hasn't changed much. Same guy behind the bar. He's just noticed me. He raises his eyebrows in startled acknowledgement, but then carries on serving customers.

I wait patiently, listening to the thumping beat of the music and watching the people in front of me. The floor's sticky and there's soggy beermats all along the bar. It's not a good omen for the Gucci if I put my elbow in some stale ale, so I keep my hands in my pockets until it's my turn.

"On the house," the barkeeper says, as he starts making up a tequila sunrise. He's looking at me as if to say I'm sorry about your wife, but we're men and we don't talk about feelings. Now he's concentrating on the cocktail. I don't think I've had one of these babies since the last time I was in here. I remember them being pretty potent.

"Thanks," I say when he passes it to me. He nods, then goes on to the next person waiting in line.

I step away from the bar, looking for some space to stand in. Safe to say, I won't be heading towards the dancefloor tonight. It's no longer my comfort zone. There's nowhere to go in here, but I seem to remember there's another room through there that used to be a bit more spacious and private. I head that way.

When I get into the other room, I find a load of kids around the pool table in there. Well, when I say kids, they're probably in their early twenties? I just hover in a corner and watch them for a while. They're all having fun. Taking pictures. Flirting with each other. Enjoying their drinks and their pool. Not a care in the world.

Eventually, a guy looks over at me, and does a double take. "Whoa. Are you Maxwell Beaumont?"

And now they're all looking over at me. I mean, I could pretend to be someone else, but my face has been all over the press for the last year or two, with a particular flurry of interest a few months ago of course. Although I was well known the last time I graced this establishment with my custom, getting engaged to Jen made me a household name. My Pictagram followers pretty much quadrupled overnight. And then doubled again when she died. Death is even more glamorous than life, it seems.

"Yeah. I am," I say with a genuine smile, as they all gawp at me.

"Oh my god." A pretty blonde girl steps forwards. "We were all so sad with what happened to your wife and all...."

"So was I," I say, bluntly. "But I'm not here to remember all that. I'm here to forget it." I chug the rest of my drink, and grab my credit card out of my phone case. "So, what are we all drinking?"