We make it to the entrance of the club, and just when I thought I could get a break from all the ruckus outside. The music is too loud, and I cringe, covering my ears. At least they have a number of scent diffusers, so I don’t have to smell the cacophony of scents on the air.
I just remembered why I avoid nightclubs. But it is impressive. There are girls doing aerial displays high in the air, and there’s a man juggling flames.
Also, people are dressed in cosplay. I just passed a woman dressed as a creepy clown.
It’s like we have entered a different world. The ceiling is draped in red and white, resembling the inside of a circus tent.
“Why does it look like a circus in here?”
Chloé looks at me. “What?”
I raise my voice. “I said, why does it look like a circus in here?”
She places her ear by my mouth. Then her eyes light up. “I know! It’s cool, right?”
I peer around. It’s more like a cross between a circus and a haunted house. A man dressed as a serial killer clown spooks me from behind. Well, he tries to. Instead of screaming, I deadpan him.
I’d be useless in a horror movie.
The killer clown ignores me and proceeds to scare a group of girls, and they all scream. One hides behind her friends, and it looks like someone has a clown phobia.
A woman dressed as a sexy clown passes the three of us, carrying a tray of Jaeger bombs. Chloé stops her, giving a tumbler to me and Marc each.
Ah, not a Jaeger bomb shot. They go straight to my head.
“Ready?” Chloé says, pressing the glass to her lips. Marc looks just as eager as she does. That’s when they both look at me.
I sigh, pressing my glass to my own lips. “When in Rome...”
We down our shots, and the drink goes straight to my head. My mouth burns, and then I get a weird taste of cough syrup.
Several shots later, and the three of us are dancing on the floor. Chloé requests her favorite song, and now she grinds up close to Marc. They look like a pair of sluts.
A photographer catches them, and they pose like the divas they are, doing a perfect impression of a duck each. I think the photographer just managed to capture my earlobe behind Marc’s shoulder.
If he had gotten my face, then I’m sure I would have looked as lifeless as a zombie.
That’s just me. The life of the party.
I have to keep an eye on Chloé and ensure that she doesn’t do anything too worrying. We can’t tarnish our father’s brand.
“Let’s get one for my page!”
Chloé holds her phone out, flipping it to selfie mode, and then she snaps the three of us. I caught a tiny shot before she posted it online, and the camera’s light just made my face shine like a ghost.
Chloé and Marc looked like supermodels.
The night’s starting to wear on me, and I’m getting blisters on my feet. Chloé has yet to go on stage, but she’s already so wasted. It looks as if Marc and I are going to have to drag her up.
“We need to get her water, now.”
Marc nods. “On it.”
Thank God he’s here. He’s like our pink-haired guardian angel. Meanwhile, I have to push every perverted Alpha away who has his eyes on my sister.
She dances with a guy who looks old enough to be her father, and I pull her away, scowling at him. As usual, none of them are interested in me. They all want a piece of the Omega. She’s definitely the best-looking in the room right now.
“She’s not interested,” I tell another Alpha.