Tangling the Knot

Chapter Nine

- Oaklyn -

The line outside the nightclub snaked around the corner, resembling the power pellets from a game of Pac-Man. Each individual thrummed with energy, ready to be gobbled up by the night's electrifying vibe. A tiny flock of college students assembled upfront. Three boys and three girls exactly set the line back another five people. One of the girls scowled at the bouncer. Her pale skin and petite frame were an outcast to the mop of indigo-blue hair on her head. I'd say she was at least no older than nineteen.

She held their IDs tightly in between her fingers while waving them around in the bouncer's face. I couldn't make out what she was saying, but it wasn't valuable to convincing. The quarrel continued for another minute or so. Eventually, the man dismissed the group, stating, "It's fake" before dismissing them and calling the next person in line. I knew then that the old fake ID trick was the reason for the backtrack.

One after another, the line moved forward. Sailor and I were next for our turn. Sailor lent over her identification to the bouncer. He scrutinized the small print, handing it back.

"You're good to go," he said to her.

Sailor moves to the side and I balance my driver's license on the tip of my fingers for an entry. The bouncer doesn't have many words but I knew by his demeanor that mine would be a bit of an issue. The downward curl tugged at the lips was a dead giveaway that he was displeased. He looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.

I traded a glance with Sailor before turning back to the bouncer. "Is there a problem, sir?" I ask.

He snorts, not even bothering to hide his disdain. "Problem? No. I was wondering if you borrowed this ID from your older sister." He doesn't hand me back my license, his eyes boring into mine. "You sure you're twenty-four?"

"Good genes, that's all there is to it. But if you're volunteering to age for me, I'll take you up on that offer."

There's a cluster of snickering from the men behind me. Sailor also covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

His lips tightened and he aggressively gave me back the plastic card. I embarrassed him. Good.

"You ladies enjoy your night."

Paranoid, I look at my reflection in the window glass of the front entrance.

"I told you I shouldn't have worn my hair like this." My hair was in a high ponytail. I wanted to do something out of the ordinary from my daily hairstyles. It took five years off my look, but I wasn't so sure if that was a good thing.

Sailor drags me inside. "Oaklyn, you look fine. He's just being an asshole."

Inside the nightclub is a light show. The ceiling pulsates down a range of incandescent purples and blues which are perfectly in unison with the DJ's booming beats. The crowd moves as one, a chaotic blend of colors and adrenaline—like a giant box of crayons dipped in cocktails. Sailor and I, fingers intertwined, weave our way through the mob of wild hair and swaying hips to find the booth with a close friend of ours.

"Do you see him?" I yell over the music. My voice is barely audible above the thumping beat.

She points north side of the room, squinting through the strobe lights. "There."

We ambled across the room and through another set of throng dancers. Finally, we spotted our friend, lounging comfortably on the leather couch, very invested with the group of girls next to him. He held a classic mojito in his hand while he filmed on his phone in the other.