Page 94 of The Chemist

He wasn’t sure what he should do. He knew better than to take pills from someone he didn’t know, but if he didn’t take the pill, he was pretty sure that these guys were going to kick him out of the party and probably break a few of his fingers in the process.

Two other bouncers appeared in the wings, looking like they enjoyed eating puppies and souls for breakfast.

Shit, he better handle this now.

Hoping that he didn’t die instantly, he popped the pill into his mouth and then swallowed. He wondered how long it would be before he entered another state of consciousness and began questioning his very own existence in this plane of reality.

“There. He took it. Happy now?” his date barked at their host.

The host glanced between Diesel and Mr. Yellow before reaching into his suit jacket and handing the man a beige envelope.

His date peeked inside, then glanced up at the man. “Pleasure doing business. See you again next month.”

Again? Next month?

Diesel suddenly got a sinking feeling in his gut. What was going on here?

“Let’s go grab a drink,” Mr. Yellow barked before grabbing Diesel by the arm and yanking him into the dimly lit club.

They walked across the room and settled onto a rose-colored sofa with black trim and a small coffee table at their feet.

It appeared that they were in an underground lounge of sorts. It was probably rented by gangsters and rich dudes hosting sex parties and private events they didn’t want the general public to know about. The entrance they used was generic and undescriptive, giving nothing away about the happenings occurring just behind its doors.

“What do you see?” Zero’s voice whispered into Diesel’s ear.

How was he supposed to answer that question without raising suspicion or giving himself away?

“Wow, it’s pretty crowded in here. Do all the guys who come in here have to bring a date?” Diesel asked, looking around the room at all the men dancing or making out with their half-conscious dates.

This whole place gave off a very molesty kind of vibe.

“Yeah, everyone brings a date. Most are useless and end up getting turned out by the end of the night.”

“And the others?” Diesel asked. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know the answer.

A waiter appeared out of nowhere, dropping off a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two glasses.

“Is all this shit free?” Diesel asked, well aware that his “date” still hadn’t answered his questions.

“Shut up and drink,” Mr. Yellow ordered, pouring Diesel a glass and then passing it to him.

“Remind me to cut out this guy’s tongue and shove it up his ass,” Chase growled through the earpiece.

Diesel tried not to react to the joke. He lifted his flute and took a sip of his champagne.

Three tables over, Diesel spotted the doc checking on one of the dates that a gentleman had brought. The girl was passed out, hunched over the table, lying in a puddle of spilled champagne.

“Wow, this place is wild. Half these people look stoned out of their minds.” Diesel hoped the guys listening through his earpiece would put two and two together. “A few of them are even passed out.”

The doc motioned to a bouncer who retrieved the young woman and carried her through a door at the back of the club. The gentleman she was with downed the last of his drink, then headed to the entrance Diesel and his date had just used to enter the club.

What the fuck was going on?

Slowly, Diesel’s head began to feel funny—like he was sleepy and vibrating simultaneously. His palms began to sweat, and his vision began to blur.

“What’s… what’s… happ…” Diesel stood up, panicked, struggling to maintain his balance.

It was useless.

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