Without pausing, I left them sitting there. They wouldn’t even miss me. In fact, I could sneak out the back, grab a ride share, and be back at Zeke’s house for all that it mattered. We’d performed our function and been seen together. I might even suggest I do that when I got back from the bathroom.
This club used too much strobe light. It was a mistake I saw far too often. The clubgoers didn’t like it overdone when it came down to it. Not that anyone was asking me what I thought. I could just see how it put off at least three quarters of the dancers when it went on too long. Some places it worked, but here, people wanted to see and be seen. The strobes got in the way. Maybe it was that the manager didn’t understand what he had here. He thought he had a dance club, or perhaps that was what the owners wanted. I didn’t know and didn’t care. I just knew that I hated strobes. They made my eyes hurt.
The hallway to the bathroom was full, but I managed to not fall into anyone as I made my way inside. I didn’t actually have to pee, which was helpful because the stalls were all taken up, but there was space by one of the mirrors, and I stared at myself for a long moment, forcing myself to breathe.
My strange panic-induced need to move was probably not as bizarre as I thought it was. I’d run from my wedding. I was bound to have some delayed reactions. Maybe I should go ahead and talk to a therapist. I was probably way overdue for talking to one anyway.
“And I thought he was coming here with me, but he came with her.”
A girl cried out in accented English, weeping onto her friend’s shoulder in the space next to me on the wall of mirrors.
I looked up, startled by the sound. Other than Zeke, I hadn’t heard English spoken aloud until I said it since I’d run from my wedding. People responded in English after they realized I couldn’t speak French. But those two were, if I had to guess, Irish…and they were crying in the bathroom. Well, one of them was and the other was consoling her.
That’s what friends did. Or sisters when they weren’t handling our father.
They saw me staring. I saw it the second they recognized me, which in this case was a good thing, since otherwise, they’d probably have told me to go fuck myself for so rudely watching them and listening in on their conversation.
I quickly looked down and spoke to them even though I stared at the sink. “Sorry, you were speaking my language. It caught my attention. I’m not trying to be invasive.” I looked up to smile. “But if someone did that to you, they’re out of their mind because you’re gorgeous. And he’s not worth your tears.”
I’d managed to get the attention of all the women in the bathroom who were speaking in hushed voices. I ignored them since I couldn’t understand them to begin with, which made it significantly easier to do.
The crying woman brushed tears off her face. “You really are her.”
I shrugged. “The redhead who ran from her wedding? Yes. Whoever it is out there who treated you so disrespectfully, he is going to swallow his tongue when I’m done with you, if you want.”
They stared at each other and then back at me. I had them. I could fix her up and make her already stunning black outfit look even sexier when she walked out of this bathroom. I should probably mind my own business when faced with these situations, and it wasn’t like I ran around New York City fixing outfits on a regular basis. But it wasn’t like I was terribly busy either. I could go sit in silence with Zeke, or help this poor woman make some man eat his bad attitude.
She took my hand in hers. “This is so surreal. You’re here.”
I wanted to shrink from her touch. This part of the role I tried to play was hard for me. Truth was I was happier not being around too many people all at once. The bathroom was getting crowded, and I had no security to help me. I steeled my back. I’d been the one to open this proverbial door, I was going to figure out how to make this okay.
“Where’s your makeup bag?”
It didn’t take long to make the blonde beauty feel better about herself. Sometimes, it wasn’t about what I actually did as much as the fact that I told them they looked gorgeous and they believed me. We took a couple of selfies together, and I did my best to seem like the Layla they wanted me to be. I slightly adjusted the belt on her dress and made her change earrings with her friend.
In the meantime, they talked. They were from Cork, Ireland. I’d never been there, but I was now invited to visit, even though I couldn’t remember their first names, and they wanted me to stay with them. I did a lot of nodding and smiling.
When I was finished, the no-longer-crying one of the pair exited the bathroom with her head held high, looking like she’d just come off a runway. I followed fast behind her lest I found myself having to makeover everyone in the bathroom. I was happy to be helpful, but the encounter was draining, even if it was my own fault.
The crowd in the hallway had doubled, too. Women whispered and some tried to grab me. I dodged and weaved until a tall man with blond hair stood right in front of me. “Hi,” he said in English and sounded American. He didn’t have any discernible accent to me at all, but I was sure people from other countries would think that he did.
I looked up to meet his blue eyes, which were red-rimmed. I knew the look well because I’d just left someone with similarly rimmed eyes at the altar. This guy was on something, and I really wasn’t in the mood. “Hi.”
Having said that, I intended to move around him, but he didn’t budge. In fact, he grabbed on to my arms. “I heard you were here. I know your brother. We went to school together. Well, for a year before you guys moved out of San Francisco. How is he?”
“Fine. I’ll tell him you said hi.” Not that I’d taken his name or was in any way going to speak to Justin anytime soon, but maybe he wouldn’t notice.
“What’s your hurry? Let’s dance. And then you can tell me all about Justin and what that—”
“Sorry.” Zeke’s arm was suddenly around me. I hadn’t even seen him come up, let alone get close enough to me to put his arm around my waist, but I was grateful for it just the same. I sighed. His presence was…comforting. “She only dances with me.”
With that statement, he moved his arm from my waist to my hand, wrapped our fingers together, and tugged me with him so that no one in the club was getting near me anytime soon. I expected him to take me back to Luc and our seats, but instead, we were on the dance floor.
The strobe lights burned but only for a second before I forgot they were happening at all. I didn’t see Luc anywhere, and Zeke’s hold on me was intense as we moved to the music. I was no kind of dancer, but I didn’t care. He was holding me like he owned me.
And he could actually dance. His muscles were hard under my hands, and I held on to him like the lifeline he had suddenly become. Dancing was a prequel, an invitation to check out how the person you were with moved in intimate ways. My body buzzed being this close to his in a way that was different than it had been on his motorcycle. My breasts ached and pushed against his chest.
Was this real? Or was he posing for some cameras somewhere? I didn’t care. I’d pretend this was real. If it were all fake, that would just make for a better screenshot later. I threw myself into the moment. The beat. The way that the crowd was around us, all of them lost in whatever they were doing at that very second. Nothing existed except right fucking then.