But he was the Bad Boy

Nightlife in New york

"Let's catch up with the others, Alexius," she says menacingly. I huff a little at the false name she's apparently going to call me for the remainder of our stay. We climb into the elevator, and she's so giddy she's almost shaking when she pushes the lobby button. When we walk out, a man is holding the door open to a long, exquisite, white limo. "Good evening, Mrs. Whitman," he says so formally. She's not Mrs. Whitman just yet. Clara doesn't correct him though. She actually smiles as she tests the feel of the name and seems to enjoy the sound of it. "Good evening," she responds with an air of prominence I'm not used to hearing from her. I sigh a little as I follow her through the open door. My sister is about to be married to Mr. Mega Bucks, and she'll be busy with the serious collection of business and charity events that tie up most of his time. The car starts moving, and Clara loops her arm through mine as the other girls discuss how excited they are about the club we're going to. It's an impossible club to get into, but Henry assured her we'd all get in without fail. Suck up. Her phone buzzes in her purse, and she pulls it out with a goofy grin spreading. Obviously Henry is calling. "Hey, honey," she squeals. "Yes it's perfect... Thank you... I will... I love you, too... I can't wait." She hangs up and smiles at the blank screen as though she's waiting on Henry to jump out of it. "Should I leave the two of you alone?" I murmur teasingly while motioning to the inanimate device in her hand. She rolls her eyes and puts it back into her purse. "I wish you were a little happier for me." I huff as she pushes a little more guilt my way. "I am happy for you - very happy. I'm actually a little envious of the two of you. You make it look so easy." "I wish you'd give love another chance," she says while nudging me with her elbow. "Well, the flavor I tasted wasn't quite as delicious as yours. As a matter of fact, I'm still trying to rid myself of the lingering, rancid aftertaste which refuses to go away." My face distorts as though there really is a bad taste in my mouth, which is always my reaction when speaking about my ex. "It's been almost a year, and not all men are creeps like Jerry," she replies softly, keeping our conversation between us and away from the ears of the other girls. "Well, Jerry was just the creep who broke the camel's back. Picking the wrong men at all the wrong times seems to be my niche. I don't feel the need to continue letting Mr. Wrong invade my life, and they're all Mr. Wrong when it comes to me. Don't worry. We can have a good time without me being in love. I'll smile, drink, and dance - although it will be hideous dancing with these death traps you've strapped to my feet." She starts laughing, meaning I've done well to divert this topic. After forcing a reassuring smile, I stare out the window at the brightly lit streets of the animated night life that is New York. I swear there are more people out at night than during the day. A long, dreadful line wraps around the corner of a large building, and my breath rushes out in a frustrated groan when I realize this is our stop. I wore the wrong heels to brave this line. The door opens as our driver greets us with a smile. "We're here Mrs. Whitman." Clara smiles, giggling a little at her premature surname, and climbs out first. The other girls squeal excitedly and then sigh when they see the ridiculous line there is just to get in. Clara smirks smugly as she takes my hand and leads me to the front entrance, bypassing a bunch of pissed-off glares. "We should be on the list. Check for Whitman," she confidently spouts to the bouncer. He stares at the list of names and then looks up and nods. He ushers us in through the decadent doors, and we can hear the frustration pouring out of the people who have most likely been waiting for hours. "Wow," I mumble very loudly. "Henry really did pull out all the stops." She smiles with a twinge of pride in her eyes. "He's sweet like that." I can hear the music beating as my body jitters involuntarily from the heavy vibrations. The dark lighting offers a perfect backdrop for the colorful laser show splashing around. The bar extends across the entirety of one wall, and waitresses walk around in dresses that look to have cost more than my usual wardrobe.
"I need a drink," I yell over the music. "So do I," Clara screams back. We walk arm in arm to the bar, and as soon as we reach it, a guy yells in my ear. "I'll get you whatever you want, baby." Oh gross. Say it don't spray it, I think while wiping my ear with the back of my hand. I certainly don't want his spit in my ear. I'd need to drink the whole bar before I let this ape buy me a drink.