That night, when Julia came home, and all day on Sunday, we tried on dresses, before finally settling on a nice black dress and a small handbag of a recognizable brand, which I had bought a few years before, when I had money. I figured I couldn’t go wrong with such a classic look.
“Are you sure about it?” I asked.
“The dress? Totally!”
“No, this whole… thing,” I said with a sigh.
“Look at it this way. Do you need money? If the answer is yes, then go for it and never look back.”
“But that’s true for any number of things,” I countered.
“Name three more things you would rather do to make some cash overnight. Realistically.”
“Point taken.”
It was a good and only point, really. What was the worst that could happen? It’s not like I had any plans for the weekend, anyway.
We had a light late lunch, and then Julia gave me a ride to the club, giving me a last-minute prep talk.
“I know some guys from the club, and they’re cool, but if something doesn’t feel right, you just text me and I’ll pick you up. I’ll be in the neighborhood until three.”
“Thanks, Mom!”
“Syd, I’m serious.”
“It was your idea, Julia. I’ll be fine.” I checked my nails and my dress once again, checked my handbag – cell, keys, money. All set.
Chicago Buyer’s Club was located in central Chicago. It was nice, but nothing about the street screamed this is where billionaires hang out! But I couldn’t know for sure. I assumed most of those guys were crazy secretive anyway.
The front of the club looked more like a bar, stylized to look like a pub that had seen better days. I heard muffled music coming from inside. Suddenly, I didn’t want to go in. I stopped in my tracks. What the hell was I doing?
But only one thing came to mind. Declan.
So I put one foot in front of the other and pushed forward. I had to do this, for him.
There was a guy at the entrance. He was too small to be a bouncer, but he looked like he was standing there with a purpose.
“Is this, um,” I lowered my voice, “the Chicago Buyer’s Club?”
The guy smiled. “Charming. It is. Are you here for the tonight’s event?”
“Yes. I’m Sydney Mercer, they said I’d be on a list?”
He got out his phone and scrolled for a moment, then said, “Checks out. Follow me.”
He led me through the half-empty bar area towards a door that said Staff Only, and let me step through first. It was a peculiar feeling, and I thought this must be what Julia had felt the first time she began waiting tables. Being on the other side, seeing the ins and outs of a business.
“Just walk to the end and turn right. You’ll see some of the other girls there.”
“Right.”
I kept moving, smelling the kitchen and beer, but then at some moment those smells dissipated, and the air changed. It was smoother somehow, and the smells were sweet and delicate. It wasn’t perfume, but rather the smell of new furniture and fabrics. In the same way, the bar’s music subsided, and gave way to something more rhythmic.
A moment later the hallway took a turn, and I found my way into a spacious room that looked more like a musical set. There was a wide stage at the far wall, where a DJ was doing his thing behind a laptop. To the right of him was the bar, and it was nothing like the one I had just left. There was neon and a lot of glass, colorful bottles and glasses of every shape and form. The room was getting crowded, with a few couples dancing on the dance floor in the middle. And it was obviously a rich crowd, too. There were mostly guys around, dressed in shiny suits, wearing shinier watches, and what women were there, looked like models, wearing gaudy jewelry and loud dresses.
I was a fish out of water. They would probably laugh me out of the damn place. At my shoes, at my simple – comfortable – dress. I glanced around, looking for a place to sit down or stand away from everyone else. The bar was too crowded, but to my left there was a nice sitting area, blocked off from the rest of the room by a heavy curtain, and there I saw a group of other girls. Those must have been my people.
At the head of the group was a tall woman in a red pantsuit and with a tablet in her hand.