I shake my head. This will go down as one of the weirdest conversations I've ever had, and trust me, I've had some weird ones in my head.
"Did she murder her parents for that?"
Emily now lets out a bark of a laugh. It's hoarse and sexy, and I would kill to hear that sound again. "No, although I'm sure she's considered it a time or two."
As her laughter dies down and slides from her eyes, her gaze at me is replaced with something else. Almost as if she's looking at me in awe and delight. It's like she is seeing something inside of me that even I don't understand.
It makes me uncomfortable and pissy.
"What?" I demand.
The joy on her face disappears completely and her eyes go dead.
Yup. I did that. My anger made it go away, just with a singular ass**le move on my part. Classic Nix Caldwell and I’m sort of relieved to know he’s not completely dead.
"Nothing," she says. "It's just...you have a wonderful smile. Well, you had a wonderful smile just a second ago. Too bad you don't keep it on your face very long."
I was smiling at her? I didn't even realize. Usually the unnatural feeling of a smile on my face is immediately and completely recognizable to me because it's not something I do often. And then I snapped at her because she dared look at me in a way that was...special. I'm such a shit and I'm sure she thinks I'm nuts. Maybe I am nuts. Maybe she is driving me nuttier.
I can't think of anything to say, so I just head toward the door. "Go ahead and lock up when you leave."
"See you," she says softly.
And damn it if I can't help myself when I say, "Be careful this weekend."
CHAPTER 8
Emily
Fil and I are headed with a group of our friends to The Blue Room. One of our friends at Columbia knows a friend, who knows a friend whose father owns this nightclub. So we got VIP passes for tonight.
I'm dressed to the hilt for some major dancing and partying. I chose a teal blue dress that comes to mid-thigh. My right arm is covered with a full sleeve while my left arm is bared completely past my shoulder and to my neck. The fabric is ruched across my br**sts in crisscross patterns and silver bangle bracelets on my bare arm are the only jewelry I'm wearing. I curled my hair with a large barrel iron so it hangs in soft waves down my back. Three-inch crystal studded sandals complete my outfit, although, as we walk the four blocks to the club, I'm starting to regret wearing them.
Oh, well. Nothing that a couple of gin and tonics won't cure.
Fil is wearing a borrowed dress of mine and because she's a bit taller than me, the hem comes up significantly more than mid-thigh. Even though she dresses in shredded jeans and t-shirts most of the time, she does like dressing girly when we go out.
"We're both pretty sizzlin' tonight, aren't we?" I ask as I nudge her in the shoulder.
She smiles at me. "Yup. And the best thing is...we don't have to compete with each other."
"That's right," I exclaim. "Because I likes the guys and you likes the girls."
We both start giggling like two grade school kids that just uttered our first dirty joke.
I link my arm through hers and she slows her longer legs a bit so I can keep up.
"So, heard anything from Todd today?" she asks.
"No phone calls since yesterday when I told him to cut the crap. But he has sent a few texts apologizing and telling me he just wants to talk."
Fil harrumphs. "That guy is a psycho, I'm telling you. Do not underestimate him. No one spends that much time chasing after a girl that clearly wants nothing to do with him. I hope he doesn't go all John Hinckley on you."
"As long as I have you to protect me, I'm not worried."
"Damned straight," Fil concurs.
We get to The Blue Room around 9:30 p.m. and the line to get in is wrapped around the building. We walk to the front and hold out our invitations. I feel so sophisticated as the large bouncer unhooks a velvet rope and lets us pass through.
Our group is eclectic, that's for sure. You have me, the rich, snotty girl. Fil the lesbian. Tina and Tonya, twin sisters from Arkansas who were raised on a farm and are still incredibly intimidated by the big city. And finally, my chemistry lab partner, Kevin, who is on Columbia's Lacrosse team, and he brought two of his teammates who I don't know very well, Sam and Breckan.
Our friend who knows a friend whose father owns the place and got us the tickets, reserved two tables for us and we feel like movie stars. We sit on an elevated deck above the dance floor and have our own personal waitress who caters to us all evening. She never asks for our ID's even though we all have our fake ones prepared to deliver at any time.
I don't even finish my first drink when I get pulled out onto the dance floor by Kevin. Before too long, the rest of the gang is there and we are bumpin' and grindin' to Vassy's We Are Young. I hold my arms out and twirl in a circle, my face lifted to the flashing electric lights. I feel so alive and thankful to have the freedom to be myself. It wasn't until I came to college that I realized I was a prisoner.
After several dances, I motion to Fil I'm going to take a break and she follows me off the floor. The rest of the group shows no signs of slowing.
We order more drinks and chat while we watch the clubbers.
"So, how did your job go this week?" Fil asks.
She is the only person I told about my accident and my deal to work for Nix. But I haven't told her much about him. With two mixed drinks in my system, I feel like a Chatty Cathy all of a sudden.