I bit the inside of my cheek again. I couldn't seem to concentrate, but I remembered Jorge's question a second before it could seem too obvious. "You promised your life of crime was behind you," I said with a smile.
Jorge grinned, leaned to the side, and planted a chaste kiss on the tip of my nose. "Only for you, Holly Golightly."
That was one of those nicknames I had, whether I wanted it or not. Personally, I didn't see any connections between myself and the main character of Breakfast at Tiffany's, but my friends liked to pretend they did. And there weren't a lot of other ways to get a nickname out of Hollister anyway.
The energy in the room seemed to pulse and gather, funneling directly into my limbs. It buzzed through my veins, making staying put impossible. "I have an idea better than petty theft." I got to my feet, prompting the others to copy me. "Let's dance."
"I'm gonna have to sit this one out," Jazz shouted before any of us could get too far.
"What? You're leaving?" I navigated through the maze of pushed-out chairs to get to him. "Why? Is everything okay?"
Had Jazz gotten a weird feeling too? Was that what this was? But, if he had, why not admit as much? It wasn't like he could think I would have a problem with it.
"But the night was just getting fun!" Jorge slurred.
"And yours doesn't have to end," Jazz said, patting his face with honest affection. "They've been instructed to keep your drinks flowing, but I'm afraid it's time for me to move on."
"Oh, cool! Night, Jazz!" Jorge shouted as he walked away.
At the same time, Sam tugged Sprinkles away with him. "See you next time! Thanks for the drinks!"
Jazz's mouth dropped open with shock. I was close enough to hear his little squeak of indignation. Before his feelings could grow really hurt, they turned around laughing.
"Your face," Jorge squealed, pulling Jazz into a hug while the others piled on top of him. "We love you. We know you're slumming it when you come hang, but we still love you."
I added my arms to the hug pretzel.
Jazz's cheeks went pink. With his red curls, it wasn't his best look. "Thanks, guys. Even if you truly have no idea who I really am." He said the last bit like he was auditioning to be the next Batman.
I let the side of my head fall against his. "We don't care. We'll still love you."
"Awww—okay—enough sap. I'm going to throw up. Get away from me. Go dance. But…wait for me." His face went solemn. "Save yourself for me?"
Sam, Sprinkles, and Jorge booed, but I could only laugh. I waved him away like a loved one sending someone to war. When he disappeared down the hallway, I spun on my toe. That was always more impressive when I wore something with tassels. "Let's dance."
This sort of scene still made Sprinkles a little nervous. He swore he was ready to get out and try, so he wanted to be here, even if it sometimes brought memories back. He'd be staying close to Sam's side while we were on the dance floor. Jorge, however, had been descended upon immediately. I caught his eye while he was surrounded by three burly men. Jorge fanned himself and sent me a smirk that said he was exactly where he wanted to be.
I spun in the other direction, closing my eyes as I felt nothing but the beat, rumbling through me. That was until I felt a finger tap my shoulder. My look of confusion turned into one of delight when I saw who stood there. "Lee! Hey!" I pulled him into a hug. I'd first met Lee a few years back at one of the You Belong fundraisers I'd helped Sam with. "Was this the club you got a job at?"
"Yeah. The tips are even better than I imagined." Lee took a step back. "I'm swamped, but I heard you asking about Mr. W."
I frowned. "Who?"
Lee jerked his chin to the upper level. "Mr. W. I haven't been here long, so I haven't seen him in action, but the other employees talk about him all the time. Rumors say he's old money. I think he has a touch of the serial killer myself, but anyone who ever goes off with him spends the weeks following whispering about their night with him. It's like they come back possessed."
I shuddered, but I didn't think it meant the same as when Lee did it. Lee's reaction seemed steeped mostly in desire. To hear Lee describe the man, he was like a demon or the Devil himself. No thank you. I'd come face to face with enough demons. I didn't need to invite them into my life.
I waved to Lee as he rushed to the bar with his notepad in hand. It was nice of him to warn me, even if he'd assumed my interest in the blond demon had been stronger than it was.
After checking in on Jorge and the others, I closed my eyes again, determined to clear my mind and let the music move me. When I opened my eyes, I realized I'd followed the rhythm to the stairs that led to the VIP level.
"What the heck? No, Hollister." Great. Now I was talking to myself. I shuffled away from the stairs, deeper into the mass of people and tried to lose myself. Thankfully, I was able to keep a reasonable bubble around me so I wasn't bumping into anyone's emotional baggage. My eyelids still flew open, and my head turned as if tugged by an invisible rope toward the far corner of the second-floor lounge.
When our eyes met, I saw a spark. I didn't mean I recognized an attraction, but that for a brief second, something in the air between our bodies illuminated. I licked my lips if only so I could prove I remembered how. My body continued to sway on autopilot as the demon lifted the glass in his hand to me in recognition. He brought the drink to his lips, and when he swallowed, I couldn't help but swallow along.
I brought my hand to my throat, caressing down the side of my neck while continuing to hold complete eye contact. He brought the drink back down, resting it casually against his knee as he stared without blinking. My hips wiggled and rolled with the movement, which wasn't so odd, since I liked to dance. I didn't always like dancing sexy, but when the music moved me, I didn't often feel like I had complete control. I felt that way now, out of control, like my body was responding to the other man's attention—enticing him—without me expressly telling it to.
I bit my lip, my teeth sliding to snag a chunk of my inner cheek instead. Dull pain throbbed in my mouth, and I was able to rip my eyes free from the man, spinning in a circle. Even then, I didn't spin all the way around as I'd wanted to. I danced with my profile to the man—Mr. W.
As someone who survived by reading auras and energy from other people, I knew some people were just too charismatic. Jazz came to mind, when there was something about a person that made it impossible to do anything but follow blindly. At least with Jazz, he was good, so you knew you'd never get into too much trouble around him. But this man…he didn't strike me as all that good. The way he let his eyes climb over my body like he owned it already shouldn't have made my dick twitch as it did. Plus, he was on the second level. A guy like that wanted me for one thing, which was normally fine too. I'd had memories from wild nights I cherished even though there was no chance of it ever being repeated.
The difference now was that I'd felt like a moth hypnotized by this man's flame from the moment he stepped inside the club. And for what reason? The most interaction we'd had was just then, when he'd tilted his glass at me. I had no reason to feel as I did, like I'd been dancing for him alone, trapped and helpless beneath his gaze.