Page 4 of Find Me

I snap my attention back to what she’s telling me about the job interview, making a mental note to ask about her partying with her brother later.

A grin spreads across my face as I realize—not for the first time—that she always has a tendency to show up for me in the most unexpected ways, and her unwavering support has been obvious throughout our friendship. She was the only person to buy a piece of my artwork, the first person to pop a bottle of bubbly when I got the keys to my own apartment, and has treated me like family since my own cut me off. On top of all of this, she’s trying to help me find a job.

“I really appreciate it Sam, truly.”

“You’ll rock this interview! When I was there I could totally picture you behind the bar. It seems like a cool place to work, but…” She trails off.

“But what?” I question suspiciously. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Oh, nothing.” She chips in quickly. “This calls for a celebratory drink, let’s go to Heat tonight!”

“It’s Monday, Sam.” I laugh. “Why don’t you just come over and we can have a drink here or order pizza?”

I know what she’s going to say before she does.

“Sitting on your couch isn’t a celebration, Evi. Come on, it’s been ages since you came out with me. I feel like I haven’t seen much of you since you started dating Rhett.” She whines into the phone. “We need a girls’ night—it will be so much fun!”

I pause for a second, realizing she has a point. Since meeting Rhett at the diner almost two months ago, I’ve been rather distracted by his Southern charm and delectable good looks. When he isn’t taking me out to dinner at his Yacht club, he’s sitting at a booth in the diner, sipping bitter coffee and waiting for my shift to end. But lately, our thing has been watching movies together and, more often than not, ending up naked before the credits roll.

“Fine, fine,” I concede, sitting down on my couch in defeat. “A girls’ night it is!” A tentative smile crosses my lips.

“Okay, I’ll meet you at Heat at ten?” she suggests.

“P.m.?!” I ask incredulously.

“Yes, you hermit!” She laughs. “That’s when it’s just starting to pick up.”

“You sure you don’t want to watch a movie instead?”

“See you at Heat, Evi.” She laughs, and the phone goes quiet as she hangs up.

I throw myself back on the couch, feeling the cool material against my skin. I send Rhett a quick message, letting him know about my plans before I look at the time, silently calculating when I’ll start getting ready, and knowing exactly which outfit I’ll wear.

CHAPTER 2

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The line outside of Heat is huge, and Sam and I wait to get in as the cool air nips at our exposed legs. I’m feeling good about my outfit choice, even if I’m a little unsteady in these heels. Muffled music from inside the building drifts out to greet us every time the door is opened and a few more people are let in. We shuffle forward slowly, making small talk while clutching our IDs, ready to show them to the intimidating-looking bouncers guarding the doors.

I’m starting to get cold, and I know I can’t be the only one as I look around and see many people more scantily clad than me. I glance at Sam. “Does it always take this long to get in?”

“Heat is the place to be, Evi. You’d know this if you came out with me more than once a year.” She laughs.

Her energy is contagious, and I can’t help but smile back at her. A few people get denied entry to the bar, and as they stumble away from the entrance, it’s clear why. The line continues to move forward, and I am thankful as soon as we’re let inside, the heat from the club washing over my body. The music pumps loudly; some famous DJ is here tonight, and even though I don’t recognize him or his music, I like what I’m hearing. Sam and I walk across the dance floor together, heading straight for the bar. Her hand grips onto mine tightly as she leads the way through a sea of people. I look up at the DJ booth as we pass underneath it, and his eyes meet mine, winking at me before going back to his music. My heart flutters in response to the wink, and it annoys me how easily I get flustered around men. I never used to get attention from boys growing up as not many would dare, knowing who my father was. But since moving to this city and becoming a little more unknown, I’ve experienced more attention from men than I ever did back home.

As I move further into the club, the glow of red spotlights reflect the smoke in the air, hovering above the dance floor and the tables that surround it. You’re not technically supposed to smoke inside, but people still do. I inhale deeply, allowing the smell to comfort me, reminding me of the cigars my grandfather used to smoke.

“I’m going to get some drinks—grab a seat!” Sam yells into my ear before letting go of my hand. It’s hard to hear over the pounding of the bass, so I just nod at her and point in the general direction I’m headed. I find an empty booth near the bar, and the red leather seat pulls against my skin as I slide in. The club is packed, and the smell of liquor is hard on my nose. A bit of white powder on the table in front of me suggests the people here before us had some extra fun. I grab a used cocktail napkin and cautiously brush it off the table, not wanting to accidentally touch it.

Growing up in such a strict household had me scared to put a foot out of line, and I had never seen drugs before Sam started dragging me out to clubs like this. Sam, on the other hand, is never phased by anything and, having told me all about her teenage years where she spent more time sneaking into bars than sitting in her high school classroom, it’s clear why. Our experiences as teenagers couldn’t have been more different; I was always too worried about what my dad would do if he found out I had done anything to compromise our family’s image. A slap across the face would be the least of my worries if he found me skipping school or partying underage. Meanwhile, Sam’s parents were seemingly too busy to care about what she got up to.

Two huge glasses filled with a neon yellow concoction slam down on the table in front of me as Sam slides into the booth across from me.

“I’m back!” She practically sings with excitement.

“What is it?” I shout over the loud music, looking at the drink in front of me skeptically.

“A golden margarita!” she yells back as if I’m supposed to know what that means. She picks up the glass in front of her and begins drinking deeply.

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