Middle Ground (4 page)

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I insisted.

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” he said. He curled his meaty fingers around my arm, which he could probably snap without much effort. I sighed and let him pull me into the aisle. I looked over my shoulder at Pat, Clare, and Noah, who were watching anxiously, and I shrugged to show them I wasn’t concerned. I hoped my acting was convincing.

He pushed me through the crowd, and people narrowed their eyes and pointed as we shoved past. Some people took pictures and videos with their phones while the guard yelled to get out of our way. I kept my eyes focused straight ahead. It started to sink in how much trouble I could get into for this. Playing a prank is one thing; getting arrested for it is another. The guard kept a tight grip on my arm, as if I’d try to run away in high heels. I wanted to assure him I wouldn’t, since he was big enough to crush me to death with his pinkie finger.

I glanced back at the theater before we left. Groups of people were talking and laughing around me. They were face-to-face now, not face-to-screen. Instead of focusing on what I’d stopped, I noticed what I had started. A body at rest stays at rest until it’s set in motion. I liked that I was the catalyst. My guilt rolled up into a tiny ball and pride kicked it away.

He led me into a dark hallway and at the end we stopped in front of a door with an
OFFICE
sign. He knocked twice and it clicked open. He pushed me inside and I stumbled in my heels but I held my head high. Thoughts spun through my mind. I wasn’t guilty yet. They still had to prove it was me and, since I’d used the supervisor’s information, I wondered how much leeway I had.

The club manager sat behind a behemoth metal desk that looked big enough to swallow her. She was small, maybe five two, but the security guard treated her with the respect a soldier shows his lieutenant.

“So, here are the two troublemakers,” she said. I wrinkled my forehead at her comment. Two? Then I heard someone move behind me.

I turned and Justin stood up from a chair in the back of the room. My body froze when I saw him. The only part of me that appeared to be moving was my heart, which rocked in my chest. His brown eyes found mine for a split second but then focused on the manager again.

He took a few steps forward so he was standing closer to me. He was dressed casually for a club, dark jeans and a faded black T-shirt and black leather jacket. His hair was messy, like it was windblown. Hardly trying to impress anyone, Justin still managed to stand out, even in L.A.

One of the guards informed us the police would be here soon to read us our rights. A rush of nerves fluttered through my stomach. Justin tucked his hands calmly in his jean pockets. His face didn’t show a hint of concern. I’d forgotten how much I missed his unwavering confidence. In his presence, I felt stronger, like his energy was contagious. He kept his dark eyes on the front of the room and I faced forward and wondered what annoyed me more: that I was about to get arrested or that I was standing so close to Justin but had to keep my hands off him.

“Do either of you have anything you’d like to say before the police arrive?” the manager asked us. I knew she was waiting for an apology, for us to grovel on the floor and beg her to forgive us for shutting down her digital dance emporium.

I couldn’t help myself. My thoughts were being excavated.

“I think your hundred-dollar cover charge is ridiculous and your club is lame,” I told her, which she answered with a sneer. Justin shifted next to me and he cleared his throat.

“I’m really sorry,” he said in a low voice that sounded sincere. I stared at him, amazed to see a look of apology on his face. I turned back to the manager and saw the tight line of her lips had softened. She nodded and her accusing eyes fell on me.

“We know which screen those words were coming from,” she said huffily. “And we know who was sitting at those computers.”

“It was a mistake,” Justin cut in. He offered her an innocent grin. “I was just trying to shake things up.”

She shook her head. “Not at my club. Club Nino is a place to make friends and feel safe.”

I had to tighten the muscles around my mouth to keep a straight face. Yeah, what a great place to make real, genuine friends. More like a place to be digitally molested.

“It isn’t a floor to start a political debate,” she added and stared at me. “Speaking of our cover charge, do you have any idea what you’ve cost us tonight?”

“We can cover the losses,” Justin offered.

“What?” I mumbled under my breath, and glanced over at him.

The manager tapped her long fingernails on her desk as she contemplated this. We heard clattering outside and the door swung open. The muscular security guard who’d escorted me earlier stalked through.

“Trey, can’t you use the wall screen instead of barging into my office?” she asked.

“They’re still down,” he pointed out, and she gritted her teeth. She told him to turn the screens back on but he said it was too late. The auditorium was empty.

“The Lounge is way over capacity,” Trey said. “And people are hanging out in the streets, blocking the shuttle tracks.” Through the open crack of the tinted office window, we could hear people laughing and shouting outside.

The manager stood up with a heavy sigh and followed Trey.

“You two can wait right here and think about what you did,” she said as she passed. “We’ve lost over fifty thousand dollars tonight, thanks to your little shenanigans. Don’t think you can get away with that kind of behavior at Club Nino.”

I coughed to suppress a laugh that was climbing up my throat.

She turned to Trey. “I want you to stand right outside this door.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He reinforced her threat by glaring at us before he slammed the door closed behind him. I blinked at the office door and suddenly everything was quiet. I felt the air around me charged with a familiar energy. I turned and met Justin’s eyes.

“Did she really just say
shenanigans?
” he asked.

“Must be the new crime lingo for a misdemeanor,” I said.

There was a grin on his face. I had fantasized about seeing him for weeks but it usually played out a bit more romantically than the current situation—standing in a dimly lit office awaiting a fine or possible arrest from a power-tripping club manager.

His eyes never strayed from my face and I waited for him to say something, but he seemed content to stare at me. Questions rolled through my mind:
Where have you been? Why haven’t you called? Have you thought about me once? I’ve thought about you one or one thousand times.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. He studied me for a few more seconds, probably trying to guess what I was really thinking.

“I’m headed to San Diego, so I thought I’d surprise you. Pat told me where you guys were going.” He raised his hands in the air. “Nino’s? Seriously, out of all the great places in L.A., you guys choose Club Frat House?”

“Hey, this wasn’t my idea,” I said. “And considering I just shut the place down, you could say I’m not a huge fan of it either.”

He shook his head and his eyes found mine again. “What bothers me is you’re not even remotely worried you’re about to get arrested.”

“I was worried, but now you’re here,” I said simply.

He frowned. “You think I’m always going to magically appear and get you out of trouble?”

I thought about this. “It’s more like you magically appear and I get into trouble,” I corrected him. “You’re like my antivenin to the lethal bite of authority.”

“Great,” he said. Justin’s gaze trickled down to my dress and he raised his eyebrows. “That isn’t what you were wearing on the screen,” he pointed out.

I felt myself blush with embarrassment. He must have been thinking I looked ridiculous, so overdressed. I crossed my arms over my exposed upper chest.

“I didn’t know we were going to a virtual club,” I said. “How long were you in there anyway?”

His mouth turned up at the corner. “Long enough to see that I’m
extreme, excessive,
and
overrated.
That last word hurts a little.”

Before I could respond, we were interrupted by footsteps outside. The door buzzed open and we both faced forward solemnly, like two children who’ve been given a time-out. The manager streaked past us and sat down behind her desk, her face frazzled.

“Well,” she said. “This is certainly a scene. Now the news is here.” She lifted a lanyard holding several keycards from around her neck and set it on the desk. She worried her fingers through her brown shoulder-length hair and studied her flipscreen.

“The good news is we turned up information about you two,” she said. “Paul Luddite and Rebecca Riggs?” she said with a coy smile and waited for both of us to nod in agreement. “In case you forgot, we scan all our clients’ fingerprints when they come into this club. That’s the advantage of technology. We have access to all of your information. If you two were so smart, you would have thought of that.”

The door opened again and Trey peered in.

“You can at least knock, Trey,” she barked at him. Justin and I exchanged amused glances.

“They want to interview you,” he said. She raised her eyebrows and tried to appear annoyed, but her eyes were bright.

“Television?” She stared down at her blouse and ran her fingers over some wrinkles on the sleeve of her jacket. “I just need to run to the restroom.” She grabbed a small cosmetic bag out of her desk drawer. As she passed us, she said over her shoulder that she would be back to deal with us later. The door slammed loudly behind her.

The noise from outside the window escalated and we could hear the crowd cheering. I looked over at Justin and he was still watching me.

“Paul Luddite?” I asked him. “Interesting name choice. Any relation?” He smiled, his dimples appearing.

“You’ve heard of them?”

“I’ve read about the Luddites. They were rioters in Britain in the 1800s. They protested against the industrial revolution because machines were taking over human jobs.”

“That’s right,” Justin said.

“They were called machine breakers,” I said.

“It has a nice ring to it,” he said. “Speaking of protesting, we can walk away from this pretty easily, maybe with just a fine, if you’d at least attempt to look sorry.”

I tapped my foot on the floor and considered this. I could smell his leather jacket. I could hear it wrinkle every time he moved. I looked down at his hands, just visible under the cuffs. The sooner they let us go, the sooner I could touch him. That was definitely motivation. “They won’t call the police?” I asked.

He shook his head. “These kinds of clubs let underage kids in all the time—so they can’t call the police; they could get their license suspended. They’re just trying to scare us.” He took a step closer to me. “So, do me a favor,” he said. “No more arguing. Just suck it up and say you’re sorry.”

“But they have nothing on me,” I said, testing him. “It could have been a computer virus, even hacked in from an outside source, and since I’m sure the hard drives are all connected—”

“Maddie,” he said, and just the sound of my name from his lips made me smile. “We’re arguing with a bar manager. Suck it up and admit defeat this time. You’ve got to choose your battles once in a while.”

I looked down at the ground and pouted. He did have a point. “Fine,” I said. “I just have issues about backing down.”

He pressed his finger under my chin and lifted my face toward his. He smiled and it made his dimples stand out. All the reasons to argue drained away.

“Did I mention your rebellious streak is a huge turn-on?” he asked, and I managed to shake my head. He brushed my hair back, behind my shoulders, and his eyes seemed to ask me something. Then, slowly, he lowered his head and touched his lips to mine. I grabbed his waist and pulled him closer but we were interrupted again. Heavy footsteps stomped outside the office door and Justin lowered his head farther until his lips were warm on my neck. He ran his hands down my back. We could hear Trey and the manager arguing on the other side of the wall.

My heart was going to explode if there was one more distraction. I untangled myself from his arms and crossed the room and grabbed the manager’s stack of keycards off the desk. I examined the control panel next to the door and I saw it was the same security system my parents used at home. I scanned the manager’s card and started to reprogram the commands.

First, I dead-bolted the doors. While I was at it, I reprogrammed the controls for the water sprinklers, the fire alarm, and the emergency lights.

“You have an interesting way of apologizing,” Justin noted.

I shrugged. “If I’m already in trouble, I might as well have some fun,” I said. “Besides, technically it’s Rebecca Riggs’s fault.” I threw the keys on the floor. “Finally, we have some privacy.”

Neither of us hesitated this time. He grabbed my face firmly in his hands and pressed his lips hard against mine. He wasn’t soft or careful or slow. This kiss was heated, like he was making up for lost time. I fell against him and he backed up until we hit the couch on the side wall of the office.

Voices shouted outside and someone must have tried to open the door because it set off the fire alarms. A repetitive wail filled the room and the lights blinked on and off, but we ignored it and fell onto the couch. He pulled me on top of him and held my face in his hands, but he didn’t kiss me. He just drank me in.

“Oh, damn it!” we heard the manager scream.

Trey and the manager shouted over the wailing siren, and Justin sighed and looked at the door. Even in all the commotion, I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to break this moment. He ran his fingers over my lips.

We could hear pounding and yelling and someone turned the door handle, which set off the overhead sprinklers. They snapped on and a steady shower rained over us. Justin grabbed my hand and pulled me off the couch.

“Was this really necessary?” he yelled over the sirens, but he was laughing. I shielded my eyes from water spraying in all directions and followed him to the office window, large enough for us to crawl through.