These Coming Years

Chapter Fourteen: Move

Lavish.

It screamed at me with great, flashing lights on this tall, wide building. The second weekend of its grand opening and there was a line, at least six blocks long, and growing fast. No way we were getting in. As we walked closer to the front entrance, I looked around the rest of the street. Lavish did not fit in with the rest of this town. The buildings surrounding were old and had stuff growing on and around them. This place was brand new and basically sparkling. Also, I wasn't even sure we had so many people living in this town, but to see majority of them clustered along the side of a building gave a very different perspective.

"Rudy," I grabbed his arm, hooking mine through it, "I don't think we're getting in tonight."

"Sure, we are," he argued like my comment was silly. I realized then he wasn't leading us to the end of the line; instead, we were walking directly to the front, to the entrance.

"What, are we just going to cut in front of everybody?"

"It's not cutting if our name's are on the list," he laughed. "Hold on tight until we get inside. People will try anything to get into a club."

"Okay?" I gripped tighter, confused. "Why are we on the list?"

"I know a few people. Now quit asking questions and just have fun." I sighed, still a little puzzled. Rudy greeted the largest of the two men in who were working the door, and muttered something to him. I couldn't hear it, but I got nervous as the man looked down at me, like he realized he knew exactly who I was. I didn't know him. The man, his name tag said Bruce, lifted a velvet rope from the short post and guided the two of us inside.

For the first few seconds when we stepped inside, I realized I could hear absolutely nothing but my heartbeat in my ears. Then I figured out, it wasn't my heartbeat, it was just... a beat.

Looking around, I felt overdressed. Many people were wearing simple clothes. Jeans, nice tops. Others were dressed even less formally. Girls wore tops they cut into crops themselves, or pants they cut into shorts. Though, I wouldn't call them shorts. I'd call them inappropriate. Bellybutton rings were sparkling in the strobe lights. Girls were either wearing sneakers or had taken their shoes off to dance comfortably around them. People were drunk already? This isn't a classy little club. This place was..dirty and felt cheap.

"Is this a dance club, or did you just bring me to a warehouse rave?!" I yelled at Rudy. He gestured to his ear, telling me he didn't hear that. "Nevermind," I shook my head. The hard, pounding, bass line rattled my chest. It always took me a few minutes to readjust to the scene. Dance music wasn't really my thing. I'd have to be in the mood, and the only time I was okay with these sounds invading my head was when I was drunk. I surveyed the dark space quickly.

"C'mon!" Rudy pulled my arm with his. It was like he could read my mind. He lead me straight to the bar. At least the bar was well positioned in relation to the speakers. Many of the clubs I'd been to had no sound blockage anywhere, so the music was overbearing at best throughout the warm bodies. Ordering a drink was usually a nightmare.

"The music here is all the same," I commented when Rudy and I could finally hear each other.

He handed a bill to the bartender after receiving our drinks, "Keep 'em comin'." I eagerly accepted my first shot of the night from him. "Yeah, but it grows on you if you keep drinking."

I didn't bother asking what he ordered for me. I'd drink almost anything that didn't have an overbearing amount of cinnamon in it. Knocking back the shot, it flew right passed my tongue to the back of my throat and down. I set the short glass against the counter and let out a sharp breath to the burning crawling up my chest. Probably Jack. "I'm just saying, they could stand to have some variety. Play something that's actually, you know, good."