Blue Money | Nick Robinson

Chapter Two: Poetic Energy

I've been to a few parties before.

High school ones, red cups, greasy pizza, the smell of weed and the sounds of keds bouncing on the cheap tile. Smell of vomit and sounds of a vase falling, jay-z playing.

Vale Amare has a different definition of a party.

There are actual glasses being distributed around, shots of 30 dollar vodka and the smell of roses. Dance music playing but with an edge to it, sounds of laughter dripping out mouths of girls with dark red lipstick, spurts of soft colors at every corner of the room with grinding bodies and bottles of wine being passed to person to person.

I feel like I have stepped from the real world, broken images, into a whole new world of clean cut pictures that vibrate around the edges.

It's a basement, the basement of a palace filled with the non-rule breakers and adults who could kick me out before I can blink.

The key Eileen had unlocked a door that seemingly looked just like a mop closest, down stairs and then down a hall right into paradise.

There's plush couches shoved against the wall, a table of drinks and discarded items like watches and purses. I guess everyone is rich enough to not worry about other people stealing.

Eileen is a bubble of excitement in the packed basement. The walls are painted a splatter of colors and a black light shifts the room into another universe.

We are quite literally under the school and I'm baffled that the teachers or anybody else for that matter wouldn't think to walk down here.

"Isn't this amazing?" Eileen shouts at me over the music.

"Yeah," I shout back, still taking every detail in.

Dancing, music, laughter and smells of perfume and expensive weed.

"Come on," Eileen grabs my hand and drags me to the drinks. There's some people around it, all dressed to impressed and sipping glasses of bourbon.

Eileen grabs glasses and starts mixing something.

"You're doing that so wrong," A voice says.

I look up and there's a tall guy, collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. A mess of brown hair I think and a smirk that makes my palms sweaty.

"Nicholas!" Eileen stops what she's doing to throw herself at him for a hug. He pushes her gently down after a second.

"Sorry, Leezy, just got this shirt dry cleaned," He brushes his chest. "I can't have you wrinkling this crisp baby."

"Okay, loser," Eileen ruffles his hair and he pouts at her. "Oh!" She grabs my hand and shoves me in front of him. "This is Anna, Anna, this is Nick."

"Nice to meet you, I've never had anything dry cleaned in my life," Word puke is my specialty and with someone as good looking as Nick around I'm sure I'm never going to shut up.

"Interesting concept and greeting," He smiles at me though. Holy shit his smile. I feel like somebody tossed me into a dryer and I'm rolling in circles, tumbling with hot heat being blasted onto me. "Nice to meet you, sweetheart."

The song changes again. My chest feels tight. Sweetheart.

"And how the hell am I doing this the wrong way?" Eileen arches an eyebrow at Nick and he scoffs, scooting her away with his hip to take over making drinks.

Eileen whispers in my ear.

"He thinks he's the best at everything."

"Maybe he is," I mumble, cross my arms and stare at him grabbing different bottles to read the label.