"Forget wine and movie night, we're going out!" Halle howls. I can't help but smile in return as we both walk towards our cars in the parking garage.
After my presentation, Becca and Kailey went over the marketing plan with Hector and he immediately agreed to work with us following their closing statement. It came as no surprise to me. Although I was nervous upon entering the meeting, I quickly recovered my confidence and we nailed the briefing like we always do.
Upon arriving to her apartment, Halle busts out a bottle of champagne. Pouncing on top of her kitchen counter with a whoop and a holler, she pops the top off and guzzles straight from the bottle.
"Okay, so we're starting early then," I giggle, as I sashay to the kitchen, unable to contain my excitement for the night that lies ahead. It's not very often that I get the time to go out, especially now since I have a baby at home.
Halle's apartment is luxurious, probably a little more than she can afford, but she constantly tells me that it's worth it. There's a large window on the other side of the island that reaches from the ceiling to the floor, overlooking most of the city of Atlanta. The apartment sits on the seventh floor of the sky-rise, an envious unit that I'm sure Halle had to fight for.
Hopping down, she pours me a glass after drinking most of the bottle and hands it to me as I take a seat on one of the barstools. I raise my glass in the air.
"To being young and successful boss bitches!" I exclaim.
Halle hollers a "Cheers to that!" and we both drink.
***
Havana is a night club located in Midtown, a popular destination for college students as it continues to thrive with local businesses. The center of the city is bustling with pedestrians, the excitement of the weekend clear on their faces.
We maneuver our way through the crowded sidewalk and into the club after our Uber drops us off. The smell of cigarette smoke burns my nostrils as we squeeze through groups of people huddled together, their conversations drifting off into the wind.
The bouncer glances at our ID's briefly before lifting the velvet rope to let us in. The bass of the House music in the main room reverberates through my body when we enter, and Halle orders two glasses of champagne at the bar. After we get our drinks she grabs my hand, and we wind our way through sweaty bodies to the back of the club.
Havana is made up of three large rooms: the Gallery, the Studio and the Main Room. Towards the back and to the right is the Studio. Latin music pours out from the crowded room, and we pass a couple slow grinding to a remix of "Señorita".
"Ooo, I love this song!" Halle squeals, as she starts moving her hips to the rhythm. I roll my eyes at the song — I've heard it so many times — but smile, and begin to dance anyway. Halle and I dance with each other, a rule we abide by anytime we go out, to keep vulgar men at bay.
"Next time we'll have to invite Christopher Peters!" Halle nearly shouts as she snakes her arms into the air above her head, her champagne sloshing a little in the flute.
"What?" I yell, not entirely because of the loud music. My cheeks flush in embarrassment and Halle laughs.
"I'm kidding!" she states, "That's clearly not appropriate. I just wanted to see your reaction when I said it!" She turns around, as the song transitions seamlessly into another, and we both start to salsa.
I've never understood why men find it sexy when women dance with each other, but soon we have the attention of several surrounding us. Halle doesn't seem to notice, her hips sway perfectly as her feet move with mine.
"Let's go get another drink!" I shout, pulling her towards the bar in an attempt to escape the leering eyes.
"Oh V, you need to learn to enjoy the attention!" she playfully scolds, but comes with me anyway.
The bar seems even more crowded than the dance floor. Half naked women cling to their glasses, careful not to be surprised by anything they don't want in their drinks. Men huddle nearby in small groups, the look of sheer excitement clear on their faces.
"Two Cosmos, please," I tell the bartender, a bearded man with slicked back hair. He nods in acknowledgement and I wait patiently as Halle continues to dance, gulping down the last bit of her drink.
I check my phone for any new messages, remembering that Jeremiah has Audrey for the night.
Just put her down. She was good tonight. When will you be home? A text reads from Jeremiah.
I glance at the small numbers in the upper left corner of my screen: 10:47. Jeremiah's text was sent at 9pm. I quickly text back a reply, feeling guilty for not having seen it sooner.
After the bartender hands me our drinks, we make our way to the main room for a change of pace. This room is blaring out classic 90's R&B hits, and I recognize Lauryn Hill instantly as the chorus of "That Thing" comes over the speakers.
I sway and move my hips to the beat, losing myself in the music. I feel a pair of hands on my waist, but when I turn around, they're not Halle's. A tall man with bleach blonde hair that couldn't possibly be natural has moved in on me, and now his mouth is pressed to my ear, a low, rough voice sounding from his lips.
"I thought your little friend would never leave," he hisses in my ear, and I jerk back, putting distance between us.
"Why are you being shy, girly?" he says in a disgusting way, his eyes widening. "I saw you staring at me earlier. I know you want me."
Although I've had two drinks, I'm still in my right mind. Which makes it that much easier for me to be myself.
"You must be delusional," I prompt, "Right? I mean, you have to be. Because I clearly came here with my friend, and you're clearly full of yourself." I'm sure my words are a bit slurred, but I don't care.
Amusement flashes through his eyes, and he takes a step towards me, but I stand my ground. I look up at him, wanting to stay strong if he lashes out, but something changes in his expression.
His eyes fixate on something — or someone — behind me. Halle? Did she pull her pepper spray out again, like she had to do last time? Whoever it is, I'm grateful because the man mumbles an apology and backs away.
I turn around, expecting to see Halle as fierce as ever, with a taser in her hand or something, but instead my eyes meet Christopher Peters', and all the air leaves my lungs at once.
YOU ARE READING
For A Reason
Literatura Kobieca"I just thought..." I begin, flustered, not really sure where my words are headed. He shakes his head. "We can't," he states, removing my hand from his. "There are a million reasons why we can't." He runs a hand through his hair, seemingly frustrate...
