With the same ease that we’d gotten by the bouncer, we made it past the blue-haired bartender, too, and this time she even gave Brook change, although not before claiming a hefty tip for herself.
The club itself was busier tonight, and I glanced up to the stages where, instead of beads, the dancing girls were adorned only in bright feathery plumes. They were stunning to watch, like exotic birds of purple and blue and green.
I was aware of Brook pulling me through the crowds, her attention captured by the lures of the music, the men, and the drug seeping its way in through her hand.
My eyes darted about, searching . . . searching.
Max was nowhere to be seen, not on this night. I looked for the others, too—his friends who’d spoken in a strange, throaty language—although not for the same reason. Them, I would avoid if possible.
I could hear Brooklynn telling me she wanted to dance, and I let her go. I was too busy hoping Max might still appear. I watched as she slipped easily through the mass of bodies, finding her place on the dance floor.
My head felt heavy, but I knew it was only the drug bleeding into my system. I spared a quick glance downward at my hand, at the inflamed mark made by the hand stamp. A six-pointed star.
I closed my eyes, waiting for the discomfort to pass, but it was suddenly too warm in here, too crowded, too loud. I needed air.
I glanced toward the entrance—to where the bouncer was raking his licentious gaze over the skin of yet another underage girl—and my stomach lurched. Surely there had to be another way outside, a back door.
I eased away from the handrail, mindful of my surroundings, searching for an exit. I wasn’t certain exactly where I was going, but in the opposite direction of the bouncer seemed a good place to start. It was as logical as I could be at the moment.
“Excuse me,” I mumbled, pushing my way through the dance floor, finding myself surrounded by the writhing bodies. I looked for Brooklynn, but I couldn’t see her; she seemed to be lost in the sea of faces that surrounded me.
I couldn’t help thinking that I should just find a place to sit and wait it out, this delirium. But the nausea gripping me demanded that I get away from the chaos.
When I reached the other side of the dance floor, I climbed the steps to one of the platforms, trying to find a doorway that might lead outside. But I saw none.
I hesitated for a moment, watching two men and a woman who were wrapped in a passionate embrace, stroking and kissing one another. The girl’s hair was the color of polished ebony, and it seemed to change color whenever the lights overhead fell upon it. One of the men had dyed his spiky hair a brilliant shade of red, while the other’s was golden, curled and soft.
The threesome’s actions felt synchronized as they moved, like those of the dancers on the stages overhead. The giant mirrored wall behind them reflected their arms and legs as they tangled and twisted together, until each person became merely an extension of the next.
But it was beyond them, just off to the side of the mirrored wall, that I spied a heavy black curtain, fringed at the bottom with thick gold braids. It was just the right size to conceal a doorway. I was spurred forward by a sudden need to find out what was behind that curtain. The music pulsed rhythmically, a heavy beating bass.
I worried that one of the threesome might notice what I was doing, that they might try to stop me, as if they were somehow the sentinels of this spot. But none of them even seemed aware of my presence, and I slipped easily past them without notice.
As I reached the curtain, I fingered the edge of the thick fabric, easing it back and trying to peer beyond.
Behind it was a black hallway, and with only the dim flashes of light coming from the club through the sliver of an opening I’d created, it was impossible to see where it went. Still, I needed to get outside, to take a breath of fresh air.
I eased through, letting the curtain fall closed behind me and holding my breath as I stood there, waiting to see if anyone had noticed me. My heart raced and my skin tightened. I wondered what was back here, and whether or not I should even be here. Surely the curtain was there for a reason.
The flashing lights of the club couldn’t find their way beyond the solid black drapery, and my eyes were slow to adjust, but eventually I could make out the floor and the walls and the faint outline of two closed doors. When I was certain I hadn’t been discovered, I inched forward, against my better judgment, taking one cautious step at a time.
I stopped at the first door and pressed my palm flat against its wooden surface. Fear rose up, choking me. I reached down, trying the knob, but it was locked.
I exhaled, my shoulders falling heavily.
Sweat prickled across my upper lip as I moved to the other door, the one at the end of the black corridor. This time, I spread my hand over a cool metal surface.
This was it, I knew. The door I’d been searching for.
My fingers fumbled for the knob. I tested it, and it turned easily, the latch releasing with a click that I felt rather than heard from above the music behind me.
Just as I was about to lean into it, a hand gripped my shoulder, squeezing tightly. My heart slammed in my chest, hammering a reckless rhythm.
I whirled, crashing into a solid wall of muscles, and Bght ashlderimmediately thought of the bouncer from the door. My dulled mind raced as I willed it to clear, to think faster.
“May I help you?” A man’s voice asked. I knew immediately that it wasn’t the bouncer—I’d have recognized his sleazy tone. But for once, I couldn’t read the intention in it. Curiosity? Disbelief? Something worse . . . threat?