Laila pushes us through a throng of people at the entrance to a club that looks bursting from the seam. A steady stream of locals and tourists alike mingle among the fluorescent lights.
I don’t catch the name but details don’t matter. What draws my attention is the smell of spicy masculine cologne and sweet-smelling tequila. Sultry perfume and swaying bodies.
The streets of this town at night carry a certain energy. A cool, calm, and zesty vibe that speaks to a part of me I buried under four years of college and childhood nightmares.
I briefly squeeze my eyes shut. But in here, Jesus Christ. It all just melts away. My heart pulses and my veins fill with heated excitement amplified by the sheer amount of people in such a small place.
“Look at you. Those hips can’t help themselves, can they? Let’s find you a hotpapito use that red lipstick on.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Laila throws me a saucy wink and I follow behind. The bar takes up nearly the entire left side of the club with its typical worn slab of polished wood, a wall of mirrors, and all the usual multi-colored bottles on display. A few moments later I have a watered-down version of Don Julio shoved into my hands.
“Salud, amiga.” I smile at my friend’s accent when speaking my native language.
“Salud y amor, amiga.” Health and love, friend. I raise my shot glass and throw back the light gold liquid. Not exactly gasoline but not the expensive stuff either.
Tables take up the far left and back wall. Bodies bump into mine and I hardly get a glance much less an apology from the dancers taking up the vast majority of the middle.
Laila raises her voice over the music. “Ok, Club Sin can happen next time. There’s nothing there we can’t find here for a night of fun if we look hard enough.”
I didn’t agree. Club Sin is a whole other level.
“And believe me,” Laila continues. “We are looking for a good time.” She jerks her head toward a darkened corner of the bar where a group of three men are speaking around a table.
“You better be careful. You’ll round up more love-sick puppies who will be hounding you with phone calls wondering when you’re coming back to town.”
If there ever was a female version of Casanova, Laila would be her.
“What can I say, my love triangle is a place men just love to get lost in.” She throws a two-fingered V up and slides her tongue up the middle.
“Ew, someone needs to teach you manners,” I tease. But we both know it’s of no use. She’s as wild as a field of summer flowers.
“Oh, here we go.” She nudges me. “I think I found you apapialready. A little older. Less brutish looking than the normal frat boys around campus. He probably has more sexual knowledge in one nut than all the boys we graduated with. Could be fun.”
She angles her chin back to the table where a fourth has joined the trio she eyed moments ago.
Older, yes. But not by much. Well dressed. There’s an aura of danger about him that screams bad boy. So yeah, that is a no-go. If I’m going to go balls to the wall and do this whole one-night hook-up thing, I want someone I can easily walk away from before the sun comes up.
Laila must be reading my thoughts as they play out over my expression because she clicks her tongue and passes me another double. “Here take this and loosen up. Did you see the tatts? You saw the tatts, right? The ones all up his neck and I think I just spotted some nipple piercings. I thought you liked ’em dirtied up and rough.”
I slant my head. “I do and that is why it’s a hard pass.”
“One day I’m gonna get you to finally accept how you are.”
Nope. I saw what a bad boy did to my mother and I’m the one living with the consequences. I love Laila like a sister, but I know what I want and in the same breath what I need to stay away from.
“Just give me a nice boy who knows how to dance. I’ll be good.”
I pound back the second shot of tequila and love the warm slide of spice and tang hitting the back of my throat. I instantly feel my muscles relax. The four-year-old knots between my shoulder blades release their death grip after a third.
Partying isn’t my style. Sure I’m a college student but that is not synonymous withfall down drunk, wake up the next morning with a tramp stamp, and wondering who the naked guy next to you iskind of weekends. But, ya know what? Now that I’m here I want tonight to be different. No demands from me. No crushing reality. Just a few hours of fantasy.
Ignoring my short list of demands, Laila continues. “You should totally go and ask him to dance. Get a little play time in and then we’re gone come morning.”
“You go. I know you’re trying to hook me up, but I got this. You don’t need to watch over me and you’re definitely into his vibe.” I playfully push at her after signaling the barkeep for another round. “Go forth, you look ravishable. Show him all your hidden tattoos.” I wiggle my brows at her as she moves away.
“You’re such an enabler. Okay. I’ll be back in ten.”