Page 84 of Ruthless Chaos
Tonight is about reminding her she’s still got it.
“They didn’t mention it on the poster,” she says.
Within a few minutes, we’ve made it to the door. It’s manned by a guy I recognize from the Nomination Ceremony—Cesare I think his name is—and three other guys. I assume they’re also part of Kingmaker.
Though I share a class with one of them, I can’t remember his name.
“Looking good, Vásquez,” Cesare says, his eyes glued to Tara’s chest.
He gives her a leery smile. She grins back at him, flipping her hair over her shoulder. The action makes her breasts jiggle.
The guys are drinking it up.
Cesare gives me a once over, but his eyes don’t linger. None of them give me more than a glance—Tara’s the center of attention for as long as we stand at the door.
I’m ecstatic her outfit is working.
The moment we step over the threshold, we’re transported to an entirely different world. From the patterned golden wallpaper and the architecture inside, I can tell the building is ancient. It’s an odd mix of the present and past.
There’s priceless, hand-hewn marble beneath our feet, but futuristic speakers perched on the centuries-old stone columns blast modern music. Huge gold chandeliers hanging from the ceiling bear unlit candles. The scented smoke from outside has made its way in, mingling with the smell of sweaty bodies and alcohol.
The party’s taking place in two massive rooms on the ground floor, separated by an enormous accordion door that’s been opened for the event. The bar is at the far corner of the party, right next to a huge, cavernous hallway I assume leads to the bathrooms and dorm rooms. Kingmaker House reminds me of an ancient castle.
No wonder everyone treats them like kings.
I grip Tara’s hand tighter, deciding where to go.
The center of the crowd is a mosh pit of bobbing bodies, and though the room isn’t nearly as full as it will eventually be, I’m a little overwhelmed.
My first instinct is to run back to the safety of my dorm room.
Tara’s wearing a huge smile, though. The lights reflect in her eyes. This is the first glimpse of her old self I’ve seen all evening.
I’m doing this for her.
I get the courage to stay.
“Drinks or dancing first?” I ask.
Tara starts pulling me towards the dance floor.
“Dancing!” she exclaims.
I tag along, though I’d rather have a drink first to take the edge off this experience.
We descend a few steps and merge with the crowd. Tara keeps going until we’re in the center of the floor. The music is loudest here, each beat of the bass reverberating through my body.
Tara takes my other hand in hers and starts moving her body to the beat.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. With the music this loud, it’s hard to resist the urge to dance. The rhythm is electric.
The huge, pulsing crowd gives me a taste of true anonymity. My secrets don’t matter here. Nobody cares what I look like or how I’m dancing.
I’m just one bouncing body in a sea of hundreds.
Tara’s hands move to my waist, the two of us gyrating to the music.
The feeling is hypnotic.
