Pulse (Contemporary new adult/college romance) (Club Grit Trilogy) (3 page)

Although I’d gotten a nice golden glow in Florida, my tan was fading, so the girls and I hit the tanning salon first. Although I knew a lot of people said it was unhealthy, I didn’t care. I knew that some spray on shit couldn’t replace the glow that the light purple light of the tanning beds did at De La Sol. Plus, it was so much less messy and looked so much better. As we lay in the beds, I thought about what I’d say to Skylar that night. Was I going to approach him or wait for him to approach me? Would I go up with my friends or by myself? I decided I’d play it by ear. I thought about asking my Big for guidance but I didn’t want to bug her. Besides, if I had to have my hand held through everything, I’d be just like the other freshmen, the pledges that I was distancing myself from. Honestly, I didn’t see why they couldn’t do things on their own. Why did they need to have stuff like mixers and socials arranged for them when there was a whole world outside the sorority, a world that, as hot young women part of an elite and exclusive society, was our oyster?

Next, we hit the actual spa, La Aqua. We sat with our feet in actual fish tanks. The fish nibbled at our feet, pulling up dead skin, while the beauticians worked on our hands first. This was the kind of spa that you only read about on Buzzfeed or heard about in rumors that you swear were made up on Tumblr. This wasn’t the kind of place most people went to or could even afford. This wasn’t for everyone, but this was for us. This was for me.

Kim went for her classic French mani as she’d chipped her nails at the club last night. Becca’s gel set was still nice but she got the small crescent moon shaped gap filled so it looked more natural. Samantha pulled up her phone and showed the manicure artist what she wanted: a turquoise nail design with metallic stripes done with striping tape instead of nail art pens, with a triangle on her accent nail to match. Of course, it came out perfectly: that’s what came with the luxury prices of La Aqua, the favored spa of the many wealthy housewives in the area. Of course, it’d be replaced by a new place (with many of the same beauticians) in the months to come but right now it was the coolest place in town.

For me? I went for a set of nail effects. On most of my fingers, I went with a grayish brown base and silver crackle topping to look like cobblestones. On my accent finger, I had a mix of green flocking powders dabbed on top of a mix of green mini bar shaped glitters. It was supposed to look like a grassy lawn. Trust me, it looked way cooler in person. Way cooler. I took a picture and posted it to Instagram. Tons of likes from girls in the sorority. Cha-ching, popularity purchased.

What does matter is that having nice things for the first time in my life was, well, nice. I’d always wanted to be like the preppy girls in high school, the ones who wore designer clothes even though they were still in their relatively early teens, the ones who had brand name backpacks and school supplies with cool designs. Now, those same girls were small fish, the kind that I was better than, richer than, and who I knew envied me and my family, because we hadn’t been prepared to win the lottery, so instead of setting up an LLC like a lot of winners, our names were on the state news and everybody knew we’d won five hundred million dollars, that we’d never have to work again or be for wanting. I’d never have to listen to my parents worry at the dining table as they poured over the receipts, after a bad harvest, wondering if they’d have to apply for food stamps because there was no way we could just live on corn for the entire winter. I’d never have to hear a sigh of relief when things worked out and I’d never have to hear the whispers of the girls whose dads were in front of buying crops for companies about how, if it wasn’t for their charitable business deals, I wouldn’t even be at school, I’d be living with my grandmother in the mountains of Virginia by the coal mines.

I’d never have to listen to anything they ever said again.

Instead, I got to pretend my old life never happened, that I’d always been this other person, that I’d never been in need. That I’d never been weak.

Instead, I got to get my nails done.

I had people that were at my service. I had friends that were like me and liked the same things I liked, for once, instead of people I was stuck with because I’d have nobody else that way. I’d been chosen first instead of last, and in the dodge ball of life, that was what mattered. I had people that did what I asked, like changing the setting on the massage chair for me, and who asked what I liked. I had people that would never dare to make fun of the way I talked, or who would call me stupid for saying “like”.

Money was power and I finally had it, all stored in that perfect black card my dad had given me for college, and not for emergencies. He’d known how hard I’d worked in high school, how devastated I’d been when I hadn’t gotten the scholarships I’d applied for, how I had thought my only option was community college and that I’d be stuck in our small town forever, watching the cheerleaders who married the jocks grow up while I grew old. He and my mom had encouraged me to splurge, to treat myself, that it’d all be taken care of.

I put those thoughts out of my mind. What I needed to focus on right now was the target: getting the bouncer’s number and tricking my sorority sisters into thinking I’d had it to begin with, that I hadn’t failed last night. Failure was one thing, but deception was another beast entirely. I didn’t want them to ever find out I’d had to be dishonest to them, especially over a guy like that bouncer.

I crossed my brow thinking of it and the attendant asked if something was wrong. Of course they wanted to please me. Of course. “No, it’s fine, I think I need to get my eyebrows waxed though.”

They said something in Vietnamese (Kim had told me it was Vietnamese, the only East Asian the polyglot didn’t speak, but I should have guessed given the fact that the certificates on the wall read “Nguyen”) and an attendant went to set up the waxing room. I hobbled over in spa flip flops, my toe nails now wet with a plain sheer nail colored crème jelly polish, and lay down in the chair and leaned back.

Soon, I was leaning back in the limo on the way to Club Grit, in a sparkly sequin dress with matte sequin piping accents, as I took a pill, washed down with a bottle of alco-pop that I chugged as the girls chanted, “chug, chug, chug”, which I took away from my lips with a gasp, poured upside down, and watched as not a drop poured out and the rest of the girls let out a cheer.

I had never expected that a sorority would have a limo on retainer, but I hadn’t known about OMG before college either. I’d never thought that pills would become something I took instead of my daily chewable vitamins. I’d dreamed of this lifestyle, but never really thought about it.

We were stuck in traffic, but in the meantime, I texted a guy from high school: a crush I’d grown out of but who still had eyes for me. I wiped out his previous messages to me.

I texted him: “hey”

He wrote back: “ey girl wassup!”

Great. He was probably at home as usual. There wasn’t much to do on our town on a Friday night...or any other night. “NM, hitting the club w my girls, wanna meet up?”

He thought I was joking I guess. “LOL sure.”

Hopefully, this would be the last thing I had to send to him. I knew he’d be bragging around town I’d flirted with him but I wasn’t home to have to deal with that. Hopefully, I’d never be. “K c u there.”

Luckily, he stopped texting at the perfect point. I renamed “Logan” to “Skylar”. Now, if the girls checked my phone, they’d see that I had texted “Skylar”.

We made our way to the front of the line and I didn’t see Skylar, the real Skylar, bouncer boy. That made sense. He probably hadn’t earned door privileges yet. I guess at the club, that kind of bouncer was like the sorority’s social chair.

“We’re on the list,” insisted Samantha. “Check for Emma Nelson. Skylar put her on the list.”

“Skylar?” asked the guy working the door.

“Uhm the new bouncer?” said Samantha with a smirk and raised eyebrows. Not cute, just bitchy, and just what she used to get her way. She wasn’t one to charm with honey and milk glances. Things were supposed to be ready for her at a hat’s drop and if they weren’t, there was hell to pay. The fiery redhead didn’t take shit from anyone, especially not some bouncer. That’s why I’d asked her to be my Big: that sort of go-getter, can-have attitude was what I admired in someone. It was better than being a pushover, the one thing I’d never be again.

“Yeah, he’s not new, he just works here seasonally, but I know who he is...but he doesn’t have that kind of authority. Bouncers don’t, none of us can do that. Plus, he didn’t mention he was having guests tonight,” said the bouncer, confused. Fuck. Why did all the bouncers at Club Grit have to be so damn, well, nice?

“You texted him, right, Emma?” asked Kim accusingly.

“Oh, I guess he didn’t get the text in time, haha.” I passed Kim my phone and she opened the text from “Skylar”, read: Logan.

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe not. Whatever. Let’s go in.” The bouncer let us in anyway because who would refuse us? Kim had a reputation as a big spender and there was a gaggle of girls in tow. She was mama duck, and we her willing ducklings, but was she going to take us under her wing or leave us to flounder, letting nature, human nature, cull the weak from the flock? Even I already knew the answer. I gulped. I’d disappointed her before we even got in the club. Fuck.

So the first thing I did inside the club? Looked for Skylar.

Of course, it’s what you look for the hardest that’s the hardest to find.

Of course, he wasn’t even working yet. I caught him coming out of the employee’s back room as he slipped on a shirt over his perfect abs. Shit. He’d been late to work and was hauling ass to get onto the dance floor and to work. But luckily, that meant he wasn’t exactly occupied yet.

I ran as fast as I could in my flats to find him. I hadn’t gone for heels, my feet too sore and the rest of my body too hungover to properly function in them. “Hey. Remember me?”

“Drunk girl, at it again?” he asked with a sigh. Obviously, there was no other reason I’d be wearing that dress if I wasn’t there to party and to party hard.

“I need to ask you for a favor,” I said, curling a lock of hair behind my ear like I had before. I knew the trick didn’t work on him, but what he didn’t know is it’s what I did when I needed a favor, reflexively, because I’d read in a tip in
Cosmo
that said it worked, when I was maybe thirteen, and I’d been doing it ever since even though it hadn’t helped me very often before college.

“I’m working, if you haven’t noticed,” he said sarcastically. “Oh wait, that’s how you found me, stalker girl!” He was not very amused, that much I could tell, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t some pick up artist here to try my PUA tactics on an HB8. I was here to pick up something else: them digits, #hey!

“I thought I was drunk girl?” I asked, voice already slurring. Fuck. This wasn’t very sexy.

“You’re both.” Skylar frowned as if he was trying to think of something and I thought to myself,
don’t strain the brain too much, weirdo
. Why couldn’t he just be the normal kind of bouncer, the one that didn’t overanalyze, the kind that played the kind of games we sorority girls played so that we could just get this over with, so that we could fuck in a coat closet and move on with the rest of our lives, instead of having to see each other over and over, instead of having my heart race whenever I heard him say—

“I’m neither. I’m Emma. And you’re Skylar.”

His name. Skylar. Fuck. There it was again, and my heart rate went up. Why did I say it? I was drunker than I thought if I was throwing around power words like that. Skylar, Skylar, Skylar, get that name out of my head and my heart, but fuck, Skylar.

“Wow, how did you ever guess, mind reader?” So sarcastic. So negative. Such a challenge.

“Mind reader, drunk, stalker, I do it all and more, but I can also disappear. I just need your number to prove to my friends that I can get it.”

“Fat chance. Also, I think the proper term is
sorority sisters
, not friends.”

“The same thing,” I said, confused.

“Except they’re not. They’re not at all. If you think those girls are your friends, after last night? You’re not only bad at holding your liquor, you’re a fucking idiot, Anna.” At least he’d used my name this time. At least he’d remembered it.

“Please, just play along,” I begged. I flashed my credit card. Even in the dim light of the club, it shone, the dark metal of the black card heavier in my hand than any plastic could ever be.

“Believe it or not, you can’t just charge that by running it through my crack,” he said facetiously. “Ass rack.”

I pulled out my wallet and took out a hundred dollars. “If I pay off the cab, are we even?”

“That’s money you owe me anyway, but besides, I’m not that cheap. I’m a bouncer, not a whore, but you can ask one of the bottle service girls for that. Oh wait, you can’t, because they have too much class and dignity in their work to play these games either!”

“You think you’re better than me?”

“Honey, I don’t just think it. I know it.” I half expected him to cross his fingers in a Z formation, but of course he didn’t.

“Please. Is there anything I can do?” I pleaded, running a finger over his firm pectorals. I wanted to fuck him but not out of obligation, but because the harder he ran, the faster I chased.

He rolled his eyes. “If it gets you to leave me alone, fine. Let’s go over to the VIP.”

In that moment, I swear Skylar transformed into another man entirely. He took me by the hand and led me through the crowd to the table. As we neared, I heard the girls hooting and I blushed. Skylar was so good at this, pretending to me something he wasn’t, that it almost scared me. He was smarter than he looked and so much of a mystery.

“Hey guys, this is Skylar, the bouncer? He’s on break right now,” I lied as I smiled. I was literally lying through my teeth and I hoped to God Kim Lee didn’t notice.

“If that’s Skylar, then who’s been texting your phone?” And of course, she’d already noticed I was lying before I’d opened my mouth. There was no fucking with her, especially over reputation. I couldn’t have fucked up worse if I’d ruined her best designer dress before a social with Beta Rho Omega.