I whip my attention to the group of girls behind us, spotting the one beside the man rolling her head, struggling to keep upright.
“What’s wrong with her?” another of her friends asks. “She looks drunk.”
“Holy fucking shit. She’s been drugged. Look at my nail polish.” The girl at the end holds up Natalia’s glass of water in one hand while showing the change in color of her nail polish on her index finger. I’d seen the nail polish that reacts to drugs like that at college, but it’s been a while. I should’ve known that these women would be smart, considering that something happened recently at the club.
The man at the table stands up, his eyes widening. He moves past the girl and starts heading toward the dance floor.
“Stop him! We think he drugged our friend!” the girl with the nail polish yells, pointing at the bastard we set up.
Tony materializes next to him, parting the crowd with his hulking body. He grabs the man by his suit jacket, stopping him from trying to run.
The man holds his hands up. “Let me go. I didn’t do anything.”
“That’ll be up to the cops to decide. Just hang out with me for a moment, buddy, and we’ll get this sorted out.” Tony tightens his grip on the man.
The man swings and tries to punch Tony in the face, but he’s too quick, spinning him around and smashing him against the bar.
Esteban links his fingers through mine, tugging me away from the scene. I don’t resist, following behind him like a shadow as people gather around and watch the drama unfold. The girls at the table continue to yell as another bouncer comes up and assists them.
My body trembles with adrenaline, and Esteban pulls me in closer, heading toward the hallway with the bathrooms, where we can also find an emergency exit. We both have the pin to get out without the alarm going off, and I know it’s the best way. There’s too much going on. I’m sure there will be at least a hundred videos from shaky cell phones of drunk patrons showing up on the internet as we speak. The last thing I need is someone to notice me. I’m wearing a wig, but my face is the same.
I jog in my heels, trying to match Esteban’s pace. He spins me against the wall and laughs, kissing me again when we’re out of the crowd.
“That was fucking awesome. Perfecto,” he says, cupping my cheeks. “The media will be all over this. Tony will be a hero.”
I smile, holding onto his dress shirt. “He’ll love it. I still can’t believe that worked.”
“Now we celebrate,” Esteban says, lifting me off my feet.
He blindly carries me, kissing me with enough passion to steal my breath away. My adrenaline pumps through my veins, sending me on a high I never want to come down from. We’re both so caught up with each other that it takes me a few seconds to realize a camera flashes behind us. The light pops, again and again, illuminating the dimly lit hallway.
I pull away from Esteban, peering over his shoulders as a man stands ten feet away, holding a camera fit for a paparazzi. But he’s no one I recognize. I’ve never seen this man around here before. The bouncers never let paps inside.
“Stacia St. Germaine. Is that you?” the man asks, aiming his camera at me again. “I’d like a moment of your time. I have some questions.”
Esteban stiffens and sets me on my feet, blocking me protectively. “Pinche pendejo. Get the fuck away from my girl.”
“So she is Stacia?” the man asks, not taking his eyes from me.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You need to give me that camera. Now. No one can take photos here, you damn pap. If you give it to me willingly, I won’t destroy it.” Esteban reaches into his jacket, surely putting his hand on his gun. I know he always carries one along with a knife.
“I’m not a paparazzi. I just wanna talk. Give me ten minutes,” the man says.
I pull the strands of my wig around my face, hoping it hides me more. Esteban stands tall, creating a wall between me and the man. Peeking behind me, I judge the distance between me and the door. Five feet. I just have to make it five feet, and I’ll be out of here.
“I don’t care who the fuck you are. You’re mistaken. This is my girl, and you’re bothering us. Give me the camera. Now.” Esteban steps forward as the man steps back. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
Holy shit.
I wouldn’t put it past him to do as much.
“Please, just do as he says. I’m not whoever you think I am.” My voice cracks with my pleas. I don’t want any more shit going down tonight. The place will soon be surrounded with cops. I just need to get out of here.
“You’ve been filed as a missing person, but I was hired to investigate, and I knew things weren’t adding up. Ms. St. Germaine, please. Let’s just have a conversation. I’m not a cop. I just want some answers. I have a question about the dead man in your hotel room. You know about him, right?” The man holds one hand up, clutching his camera and the other.
My heart pounds, the beats ricocheting through my head. I clutch my hands together, trying to get my body to stop shaking. But I can’t.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Give me the camera now.” Esteban pulls his gun from his holster, aiming it at the man. “This is your last chance.”