Deadly Secrets

Chapter 39: In The Club (Part 2)

Max leaned over the railing, casting his eyes on the raging party beneath him. Standing there on the indoor balcony, he felt like a god, overlooking his ocean of bodies which swayed like waves, in time with the electronic beat. For a brief moment the impulse of leaning that little bit further overtook him; he wanted to dive into crowd and allow himself to be blissfully carried away by the current. But it quickly disappeared when he guzzled down some of the whiskey he was holding, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He washed out the loneliness that consumed him, and replaced it with a dizziness that brought a smile to his face. He wasn't on the job tonight—ever since the 'Butterfly' had been stolen, he hadn't been allowed to distribute what remained, or any other drugs. So at least he had the night off. God knows how much booze he had knocked back— if he didn't want to hurl and pass out, he was going to have to get moving. It was time to get down there, dance, and maybe find a girl hot enough to take home with him.

With that objective in mind, Max closed his eyes and bobbed his head up and down, concentrating on the music, then he turned around and walked towards the others. Although the party wasn't his, Sebastian was friends with the organisers, earning him and the group a place in the VIP section right there, on the second floor. The atmosphere was lighthearted and the alcohol flowed like water—it was almost surreal, like something out of a movie.

Lounging on velvet couches were Sebastian, Jeremy, and Samantha, along with other people Max had gotten introduced to but had forgotten their names. He joined them, slouching beside a good-looking brunette and throwing an arm over the backrest behind her. Jeremy chatted animatedly with a bunch of musicians, passing a blunt between each other and blowing rings of smoke in the air.

They seemed to be talking about their past endeavours and other shenanigans, so with great curiosity, Max tried to join in. But he might as well have been talking to the wall behind him, because he was drowned out by their own voices and the music. Every once in a while, one of them would reply to him, but then break out into a drugged laughter to an inside joke only they could understand.

"Where are you from?" Rather than wasting breath, Max resorted to sparking up a conversation with the girl beside him. She looked at him confusedly, her unnaturally-large lips puckering, so Max repeated his question, enunciating every word. That alone was draining what little energy he had out of him. His eyelids were drooping and his hair had lost its shape from the gel, falling in a wild mess around his face.

"Brazil," She said so with a heavy Portuguese accent, and then turned to the girl beside her, resuming her own conversation. Max could sense an obvious language barrier, as well as a physical barrier now that she was turned away. He leaned back, feeling ignored and powerless.

He hated it when he didn't have people's attention on him—he was the star of the show, he was the main man! What was he doing wrong? He blamed his new inability to pull women on the alcohol pumping through his veins.

I have to get out of here. I need to get off this bullshit VIP shit and get on that dance-floor.

I just need to find someone willing to come with.

He noticed Sebastian sitting around, staring longingly at the party below. He was bouncing his knee and tilting his head from side to side, a beer in his hand.

The perfect candidate.

Max stood up—a little too quickly, which made him light-headed—and went over to Sebastian, keeping his eyes trained on him so he would walk in a straight line. "Let's go hit up some bitches. I came here to party, not sit around like my grandfather."

Sebastian grinned and nodded. He placed his bottle on the cluttered coffee table and stood up. Max slapped his back and the two began to walk towards the staircase, but Jeremy called out to them, "Yo Max! Where you going? Aren't you gonna hang with us?"