Danger in the Streets

Confusion

The sky is beautiful outside out apartment, once you get past the giant warehouse that looms in front of our window.

I notice this as I scoop ice cream out of my chipped bowl, savoring the taste of creamy coffee against my mouth. Dariya lays next to me on the couch as we binge watch between two shows. My phone's been beeping like crazy, but I leave it on the counter.

After another few minutes, Dariya grabs the remote and pauses the T.V.

"Nessa," she says, glaring at me with her determined stare.

"I know, I know. But it's girls' night! Phones aren't important. It's not like I'm going steady with someone, and their trying to confess their love to me," I joke.

Dariya sits up. "Yeah, and you know how I feel about your nonexistent love life. But please, just see who it is. We're never going to finish this if your phone keeps screaming at us."

I sigh and drag myself out of the sofa. I walk over to the kitchen and turn my phone on.

"Oh, no," I murmur, sucking in my breath.

(Unknown number) 18 Messages, 3 voicemails.

Vanessa? It's kinda cold and I'm waiting outside for you. Text me. Brrr!

I'm outside the club. It's been 15 minutes. You might be kidnapped and tied to a chair, so when you escape, text me and tell me how you untied the rope.

(View more)

Even though my stomach aches and my skin is in a cold sweat from the guilt, I listen to the voicemails.

Hey. It's me, Mica. I probably seem like a clingy stalker, and you might've lost track of the time or the subway broke down or something, but just let me know, okay? Thanks. Love y-er, see you. If not tonight...At work. Tomorrow. Right, that was awkward. Bye.

"So...Are you going steady with someone?" Dariya asks from behind me. "Because if this is a date, I can help you get ready in about five minutes, tops."

*  *  *

I can see the florescent lights of the night club glowing from a distance, so I try to run (Well, the closest thing to running when you're in heels.) as fast as I can. By the time I near the hunched over form leaning against the brick wall of the club, I'm panting. Strands of hair have escaped from the braided crown that Dariya helped me with.

"Mica? Mica, I feel mortified! I was distracted, and I lost track of time, and-"

Mica looks up. There's something I can't quite detect in his eyes, but it isn't good. He smiles anyway, and offers his arm. "Let's go in."

I don't ask him what's wrong. All my uncertainties melt away when he smiles.

I nod and take Mica's arm. We flash our I.D.s at the burly man up front, and then we step into another world.

Flashing lights, sweaty bodies, and fruity concoctions being served on platters. I love it. The room is full of life and untamed passion, and I want to be a part of it. No, I need to.

Mica senses my excitement. "Shall we dance?"

I take his hand and follow him to the dance floor. He spins me around. "Wow, you certainly know how to dance," Mica says appreciatively. We ignore the fast tempo of the music and move to our own slow, steady beat. A couple minutes into it, I might've downed a drink or two. Or three.

"Yeah. Down in Puerto Rico, we got some moves," I reply. "I can teach you," I add flirtatiously, tracing Mica's jawline with a finger. My senses are sharpened, like everything's in high definition. But my thoughts aren't. "There's rooms upstairs, I bet..."

Mica chuckles and pulls my finger away. "No, Vanessa. You're drunk."

"Please?" I whine, pouting. A small voice in my mind is disgusted that I'd sink to this level, but I ignore it.

Mica sighs. "I'm gonna get you some water. Don't move." He turns around and says something about how he shouldn't have done this to...me...

I feel a hand run down my back, and then further down. It sends goosebumps down my arms, and I feel a little uneasy. I push the fear down and turn around.

"Hey, sexy. Looks like your date's a prude, huh? I can make it up to you." A muscular man in dark clothes stares at me hungrily.

"N-No," I giggle. "I'm good. He's an accountant. He drinks tea."

"How about yes?" The man grabs my arm.

"Hey!" Mica pushes the man away, spilling a glass of water down his front. I'm impressed; the man is twice Mica's size.

"Got a problem?" the man growls.

"Yeah. You. You can't take advantage of her like that," Mica responds. I can see his hands shaking behind his back.

"She's just a girl. Slutty, weak, and made for sex," the man laughs.

His words feel like a bucket of cold water over me. "That's disgusting! Mica, come on!" I grab Mica's arm and pull him through the crowd. We rush outside into the fresh air.

"Mica, I've been a complete ass," I cry, my hands clenched. I shake my head in anger and confusion.  "I'm so, so sorry!"

He shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry. I should've known. Then this would've never happened..."

"It's not your fault...," I say, before throwing up into the street.