Page 14 of The Bronze Garza
“You are American?” he asks as he slides the shot glass to me.
“Yeah. New York. I’m just here for two weeks.” I down the tequila before he can catch on to my deception. “Anyway, they’re calling me on stage. Thanks!”
I turn and weave through the throngs toward the stage, then begin bobbing my head to the beat of the music, trying to psych myself up.
Nope. Not working.
I’m a snail as I climb the steps to the stage, silently begging the tequila to kick in and do its thing, seeing as I don’t have a rhythmic bone in my body.
Once on stage, I grip the pole and walk slowly around it, taken by surprise when I feel it moving along with me. Hmm. Sothisis how strippers spin on poles. Leaning back against it, I slowly slide down it and into aLil Kimsquat, like I saw one of the strippers do earlier.
I spot Kate in the crowd, her hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. Laughing at me, no doubt.
Whatever. I didn’t ask for this. I’m neither a stripper or a prostitute. Hopefully, I’ll be so awful up here that I’ll be let out of on-stage dancing.
From the looks of the men crowding the stage, however, waving their cash with excited grins, that’s probably not going to happen. Zoey was right, these men don’t give two damns that I don’t know how to work a pole. They’re here for the nudity.
I straighten up and reach around to undo my bra, then stop, squinting into the crowd. I think I seehimagain, moving through the crowd. But he disappears so quickly it’s almost as if I conjured it.
“Take it off!” someone shouts.
I gyrate my hips—or at least I think I do—as I search the sea of bodies for him.
He’s nowhere.
Why do I even want to see him so badly? What do I think will happen? For all I know, I’m here only because Kristie is gone and Igor didn’t want to have all his top girls out at once.
I give up the search and attempt to undo my bra again. But, again, I halt when I see a blaze of orange.
Someone screams.
Someone shouts.
The blaze of orange gets brighter, bigger.
It takes me a hot minute to realize that it’s the bar.
The bar is on fire.
Bodies begin moving, shifting, running toward the bar to help put the fire out.
One man throws the contents of his highball glass at the fire, but the alcohol only feeds the flames.Drunken idiots.
Then, a loudpop, and then another, as the bottles of liquor start to explode, sending splinters of glass everywhere. That’s when people really start screaming and runningawayfrom the bar, herding toward the exit.
The fire spreads—fast.
Toofast. And I know, I just know, this is no accident.
Viktor darts across the club with Kate thrown over his shoulder.
Is this Igor’s doing?
When I see Pavlov and Dimitri hurrying past the stage with Zoey, both on either side of her rushing her to the exit, I realize one good thing:I’m not priority.
Taking advantage of that fact, I jump off the stage and duck low, aiming for inconspicuous.This could be my way out.
I get on all fours and begin to crawl.
