Page 32 of His Lair
“You look like you could use a night out.” A voice to my left has me turning to the side while pasting on a fake smile. Fefe, one of the girls I’m on shift with a lot, is standing right next to me.
“I’m… Actually, I could,” I tell her. I’ve turned her down every time she’s asked me to go out with her. I don’t make friends. Like I said, they tend to complicate things.
“Yes! You’re not going to regret this.” She beams as she jumps up and down on the spot. “I have to go home after our shift to change real quick, but I can meet you at ten?”
“Sounds good. I’ll need to change too,” I say, looking down at my uniform. “Let me know where to meet you.”
“I’ll text you. Get ready to dance the night away,” she says as she walks away.
There’s still two hours of our shift left. I’m already tired. And, honestly, all I want to do is go home, lay in bed, and wait for Sammie to break into my apartment again. But maybe going out is a better idea. I’m getting way too comfortable staying in with a certain you-know-who. A night apart won’t hurt either of us.
I’ve never been much of a drinker. I like to keep my wits about me. Tonight, I needed a little pick-me-up. It’s why I’m now slurping on some sugary frozen concoction on my way to meet Fefe. I didn’t realize the place she wanted to go was in Wild Card, not until it was too late to back out.
It’s a big casino, though, so the chances of running intohimare slim to none. It’s not like he’s going to be hanging out in the nightclub my coworker swears is the best in town.
I find Fefe waiting for me in the lobby. She’s wearing a short white halter dress, paired with sparkly heels covered in rhinestones. Her long, dark hair hangs straight down her back. She’s stunning.
I’m dressed a little bit more, well, just more like something the real me wouldn’t wear to a nightclub. For the last six months, I’ve been making an effort to be the shy, quiet version of Lailani I’m supposed to be. I haven’t hated it. I like the quiet. Conservative clothing isn’t my thing, though. I’ve paired a black knee-length skirt with a beige-colored blouse. I have sensible kitten heels on my feet, and I tied my hair up into a high ponytail.
“You look amazing,” I tell Fefe.
“So do you.” She smiles at me.
“I look like I’m going to church,” I groan. “But I don’t own anything… like that.” I wave a hand up and down her body.
“We should go shopping one day.” She beams again.
I shake my head. “I couldn’t. I mean, it looks amazing on you, but it’s not me.This…” I point to my skirt and then the blouse. “…is me.”
“Well, I happen to like theyouversion of you. I think you should always wear whatever makes you feel good.” Fefe links her arm with mine. “You ready to dance your worries away?”
“I don’t have worries,” I lie.
“Everyone has worries, but not us. Not tonight,” she says, guiding me through the casino lobby.
I can’t help but look around to see ifhe’shere. I mean, of course he’s here. But is he walking the floor?
I’m relieved when we make it to the entrance of the nightclub without seeing him. Fefe takes hold of my hand and leads me straight up to the bar. I don’t hear what she orders. Whatever it is, there’s two of them and she’s holding one out to me.
“To new friends,” she says, clinking her cup with mine when I finally take her up on her offer.
“To the headache I’m bound to have tomorrow,” I add.
“Let’s dance!” Fefe screams into my ear and then tugs my hand until we’re standing in the middle of the dance floor.
Holding my cup high in the air, I let my body move to the beat of the music. This isn’t my scene, but there is something freeing about being surrounded by a bunch of strangers who don’t know me. Then again, there is one person in this city who knows the real me. And Emmanuel is not likely to be found anywhere near a dance floor. The thought makes me laugh. It’s ridiculous.
I wonder if Sammie dances? Actually, no, I don’t wonder. I’ve seen what he can do with those hips in the bedroom so I’m sure he can. I don’t think that’s something I’m ever going to find out, though.
A body presses against my back, and I stiffen. Fefe smiles at me. “Less than five minutes and you have fans,” she whispers into my ear as she hugs me.
“I don’t want fans,” I tell her, spinning us around so that the stranger is now pressed up against Fefe instead. “You’re welcome to them all.”
“Ew, I don’t want them.” She shakes her head. She turns and whispers something to the guy and then he walks away.
“What did you say to him?” I ask her when she turns back to face me.
“That we were lovers and open to a threesome but only if he was into pegging.” She laughs.
