Last Call (4 page)

“Ha! We’re getting in the club tonight, bitch!” Shelby is practically bouncing up and down where she stands. She is a club junkie. She claims it’s because she loves to dance, but really, it’s because she stalks her new prey.

“You don’t know that,” I say with little confidence in my voice. We are standing to the side, watching Giselle run her game.

“Bitch, please. Look at her,” Shelby snaps back. Again, I want to slap my hand over her mouth. The urge to slap her and love her constantly boggles my mind. From the moment we meet, day and night, night and day, I constantly want to slap her and hug her.

I look over to the bouncer and watch him fall under Giselle’s spell. He is a huge guy with muscles so large they may weigh as much as I do. He is studying every inch of her face, and when she lifts her hand and places it on his chest, I see him puff up. And …did he just shake his pecks? Oh, my God, what a fucking tool. I roll my eyes, knowing these are the kinds of men I will encounter all night. The thought seriously makes me just want to go home.

When a black SUV rolls slowly by the entrance, the bouncer gets momentarily distracted. Oh, good, maybe there will be a drive by and we can go home. This will cure Shelby of going clubbing again. Is it bad I’m wishing for a drive by shooting? Yeah, it’s probably in poor taste, but I really don’t want to be here now.

Giselle turns to us and waves us over.

“Fuck!” I say out loud and hear Shelby giggling beside me.

“Shelby, Mariah, this is Ray, and he’s feeling so generous tonight. I think we should thank him for going against the rules to let us in.” What the hell does she mean by thanking him? If he expects a back alley blowjob, he will be painfully disappointed.

While we walk up to Ray, he unhooks the velvet rope. Giselle is first. She leans forward and places a kiss to his lips. It’s very short and sweet; however, I can practically see him blow his load in his pants. Then Shelby walks up to him, wearing her short, hot pink dress and presses her size D tits into his chest. She yanks on the collar of his black, Toxic polo shirt and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s very distasteful and loaded with tongue and nipping. I’m practically barfing in my mouth knowing he expects a kiss from me. When I approach him, I can tell he’s wondering how I will please him, but I will do the opposite.

I lean up on my toes and get my cheek flush with his. Then I place my lips next to his ears and whisper, “Sorry, cowboy, you’re just not my style.” Then I lightly tap him on the cheek and give him a wink. He lets out a groan as I abandon the tool at the front door.

We make our way into the club and are immediately hit with Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” and my body begins to be taken over by the beat. I follow Giselle deeper into the crowd then over to the balcony entrance. She manages to sweet talk the bouncer with a wad of cash and her stunning looks to get us into VIP.

As we make our way up the stairs, I take in all the lights, thumping music, and dancing. We walk to the rail and look over at the sea of people simply out having a good time. It’s then I realize I want to be one of those people. I want to lose myself in the music and drinks, and create a night I will never forget. I scan the club as colors of bright pink, purple, and blue flash to the beat and shine down on the dance floor. Everyone is illuminated with radiant color. Directly across from the VIP section is the main bar. It extends almost the entire length of the wall and it, too, is illuminated in colorful light as the bartenders scurry back and forth, mixing drinks. Hanging above the bar, almost up to the ceiling, is a large mirror. It extends almost the entire length of the bar and reflects the vibrant colors from the lighting system. Behind the bar, a flight of stairs leads up to the unknown, and I momentarily wonder what’s up there.

I walk back to the black, leather couches and see the bottle of
Patrón Silver, salt, a saucer of limes, and small shot glasses. Giselle tips the waitress as she finishes giving us our drinks, while Shelby bends down to the small table and pours three glasses of tequila. We lick our hands just below the knuckle of our index finger and take turns sprinkling the salt over the wet spot.

With a lime wedge in one hand and a filled shot glass in the other, Shelby toasts, “To Mariah on her birthday, and to her vagina. May its life expectancy extend one more year by looking at all these hot dudes.”

I roll my eyes as both Giselle and Shelby laugh their asses off, then we lick the salt from our hands and down our shots. The chilled, clear liquid burns down my throat, and I want to gag, but I hold it down then quickly suck on the lime wedge to take away the bite. We slam our glasses on the table and all let out a little cough. I immediately fill the glasses again and hand them to my friends for another drink. After we repeat the process two more times, my buzz is starting to take effect.

Shelby is dragging on my arm, “Come on! I’ve gotta dance before it kills me.”

I hold up my finger then look at the dance floor. It’s packed with men and women grinding against each other. The sexual energy is radiating from every pore of their bodies. I need more courage before I go down there and immerse myself into the lusty world.

“One more shot. I need one more shot before I can go down there.”

The three of us cheers one more time then make our way toward the crowded dance floor. As I walk closer, I
can feel my night going drastically different all of a sudden. There’s something about to pull me down and take over my very existence. What that something is, though, I have no idea.

J
ason

The ten o’clock hour rolls around when I make my way to my favorite gold mine. It’s been a long time coming, but I’m finally home in Miami. I’ve spent the last year getting my latest nightclub up and running in the trendy meatpacking district in New York City. Two months before the doors opened, I was ready to take a match to the entire building, saying good riddance to my money, time, and energy. It’s not like I need the cash, but I don’t pussy out on something I want. Therefore, when the club was done and opening night was a success, I took off to my hometown. I came back to the only place I call home; regardless of how long I’m gone.

As I pull up to the front entrance, I can see at least one hundred people waiting to get in. Of course there are. This is Toxic—the hottest nightclub in the greater Miami area—and it’s mine. The decades nights are always a huge hit with the partiers, and for some weird reason, people like to dress like idiots and dance to horrible eighties music. Hey, I’m not complaining; it’s because of their need to be idiots my millions keep piling up.

I’m proud of Toxic. It’s my baby, the first club I built from the ground up. It will always be my favorite and the hottest. Of all the clubs I own, this one will never fail. I’ve put so much blood and sweat into this place I literally have become a part of it.

When I turned eighteen, the best thing I could have done was become a bartender at a nightclub. I learned very quickly the ins and outs of the business. Two years later, my mentor took me under his wing, teaching me all there is to know at becoming a successful club owner. A year later, I got a loan from the bank and the birth of Toxic began.

Opening night skyrocketed me to the masses, and it seemed like overnight it was one of the most popular places to hang. The next thing I knew, I was able to pay off my bank loan, brushing elbows with celebrities and raking in the cash. I was a millionaire by the time I was twenty-five, and then I started to really grow my empire.

Cain Management Group grew immensely, and the business expanded throughout the state of Florida to Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and most recently, New York City. Not too bad for a kid left abandoned on the streets and raised in the foster system.

As a kid, I bounced around from home to home, never counting on anything permanent. When I got a little older, I was still moving between homes and eventually did a stint in juvenile detention for beating the shit out of the man who lived with the lady who had taken me in.

Mostly, people took in troubled kids like me because it was a steady paycheck from the state. They never gave a shit what I did, or me for that matter. If I was too out of control, they sent me packing on to the next asshole’s house.

I attended multiple schools during my youth, never really making friends. All I had was me and survival was the only thing I knew how to do. When my eighteenth birthday rolled around, I finished high school and set out on my own. Fast-forward fourteen years, and I am wealthy, successful, and I accomplished it all on my own.

When I drive my black, 2015 Cadillac Escalade around the front entrance, the line is long, like it normally is. A wicked smile snakes across my face as I mentally flip off all the assholes that said I’d amount to nothing. That’s when I see a womanly shape that almost sends me into a tailspin. I see a figment of my imagination. I see
her
.

For seven years, I’ve been dreaming of her, and now, there she stands, shy and sexy. The elusive girl who’s been the subject of my desire for the past seven years is standing outside
my
nightclub.

I circle around the building, trying not to be so obvious, and then pull back out front again. As I round the corner slowly, tortuously, the mysterious woman is nowhere to be found. She’s gone. Again.

I pull my Escalade around to the back entrance and shake my head in disappointment. I’m really fucking losing it because this is the first time I’ve seen her while my eyes are open these past seven fucking years. The woman I’ve dreamed of since she walked into Toxic on opening night and stole every breath in my chest.

She had been in my nightclub, swaying her ass to the electrifying music, and I was instantly hypnotized. I knew she was real, but was never sure since I’d never reacted to a woman that way. The moment I saw her, I had to have her. I had to claim her as mine. By the time I had walked to the dance floor, she was lost in a sea of people. I never laid eyes on her again. She was gone.

And now, she’s the woman starring in my dreams.

Most nights, behind my closed eyes, I see her dancing, watching her from afar. Usually, when I walk to her, she evaporates, just gone, exactly like that one night seven years ago. On the really good nights, I will dream of her long, chestnut hair as it tangles in my fingers. I pull her head back and gaze into her eyes. She’s always naked except for the elegant heels covering her feet and an igniting fire blazing from her eyes.

I always take my time, studying every inch of her porcelain body. Her white, silky, alabaster skin heats with desire as I run my hand over the curve of her hips, spine, and breasts. She’s always willing, always craving to take me inside her. Then, right before my body is at the gateway to hers, I snap awake, knowing she is a faint, distant vision; that the mysterious goddess doesn’t exist.

When I dreamed of her that first night, I was exhausted from the preparation of Toxic’s opening, but that’s never stopped me from chasing her in my dreams for the last seven years.

M
ariah

We make our way to the dance floor, just as one of Shelby’s favorite songs blasts from the sound system—Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.”
We all squeal with excitement as the three of us push our way through the crowd and start to move.

Shelby, of course, has to be in the center of us. She’s shaking her ass in an overly sexual display of booty dancing. She bends at the waste and touches her toes while wiggling her ass back and forth, her thong peeking out from under her dress. This is her way of catching a mate. She’s like an exotic bird, primped and dancing to attract the most desirable suitor. Giselle and I just let Shelby do her thing. We know she’s going to get surrounded by men, and when she does, we will back away, allowing her to select her next victim.

I feel like I’ve been on my feet for days. They ache, and the buzz of tequila is starting to wear off, making every step painful. I motion to the girls that I’m going to the bar, but like the great friends they are, they don’t allow me to go alone. The crowd is still thick. However, we are able to efficiently navigate through the partygoers and right up to an open spot at the bar.

When Giselle leans over and holds up her money, a very handsome, young man takes our order. In no time, we are sipping Corona while heading back to our VIP section. Shelby invites a bunch of eligible suitors to our private loft, which more than triples our little party. The waitress brings more drinks, and we all engage in dancing on our own private dance floor.

At this point, the DJ is mixing current music with the old classics, making the night a fun combination of old and new. As “Can’t Hold Us Down” by Macklemore comes across the speakers, we all form a circle and bounce up and down, getting swept away by the music once again.