Page 15 of Broken Butterfly
“Can I ask why?”
“Nope.”
“You wanting to do some volunteer work there or something?”
“Or something,” I tease.
“Can’t I just donate some money to whoever so we can spend our day doing something more fun?”
“That’s not the point, Nutter Butter. You’re surrounded by all this wealth. I know I sound a bit hypocritical since I’m currently the one spending and enjoying the fruits of your money, but I think it will be good for both of us if we go. As for why the women’s shelter, specifically? I feel like it’s something I need to do, because of what happened to Hailey. Is that alright with you?”
“Where you go, I follow, remember?”
“Can we also go to Times Square tomorrow?”
“Yes, kitten. Now go get dressed. I suggest you wear the red mini dress.”
I roll my eyes, something I seem to be doing a lot of recently. “You don’t tell me what to do Fallon Montgomery,” I sing out and walk downstairs. I put on the red dress anyway and pair it with some black knee-high dress boots that Fallon also picked out for me today.
It’s the first day of November, which in New York City means it’s cold, and the boots will be better than strappy heels. Besides, I’m also not dumb enough to wear high heels when I’m expected to dance all night. I leave my hair down in its usual mess of haphazard waves. The pink tips and streaks in my hair have faded and are barely visible. I’m not a makeup wearing type of girl, but I do put on some mascara and lipstick which I stole from Tatiána’s stash in her bathroom.
“I’m ready!” I yell out when I exit my room. Fallon’s waiting for me. “Looking good,” I say when I see him. He’s dressed in snug-fitting jeans and a long-sleeved dark blue button-up. He doesn’t return the compliment, but I notice his eyes keep straying to my ass as we take the elevator down to the private parking garage.
Fallon leads me to an awaiting dark sedan, and I must have a mirthful expression on my face because he asks, “What?”
“Nothing, really. I’m just surprised it’s not a limo or a Lamborghini. I mean, it’syouwe’re talking about. Sedans aren’t your typical style.”
He smiles and slaps the top of the car with his open palm. “Get in the fucking car, kitten.”
As soon as we’re buckled, I ask him, “Where are you taking me?”
“New club that opened up about six months ago. They know we’re coming.”
Of course, being with Fallon means we don’t have to wait in line or go through the front door bouncers. Instead, Fallon drives down a side street to the back of the building and we’re met by two nicely dressed men. They usher us through a nondescript door that leads directly upstairs to the VIP section. There’s no escaping the pounding of crappy techno music, so I grab Fallon’s arm and drag him back downstairs to the main dance floor.
Turns out, Fallon is actually a great dancer. I close my eyes, raise my hands in the air, and let my mind go numb, trying hard to put the past few days behind me and just exist in this moment. Flashes of colored lights dance in front of my closed eyelids and I’m taken back to the night of the bonfire in eleventh grade when Jayson got drunk and we stumbled upon Jacinda giving Ryder a blow job against the dilapidated warehouse. It switches to Fallon’s party when I found Jacinda wrapped around Jayson in an upstairs bedroom, and then later that night when Ryder climbed through my window. Too many emotions flash outward, overwhelming me like wildfire on dry kindle.
I hear Fallon say, “Fuck off,” as he pulls me against him. My eyes open and I notice a girl scowling up at him then me before she slinks away and disappears into the crowd.
“What was that about?” I have to raise my voice for him to hear me.
Fallon adjusts his grip on my hips and turns me around, so my back is to his front. “Some chick who doesn’t understand the words ‘not interested.’”
“You promised me a night of alcohol,” I shout at him over the music. I need something to help me forget, even if just for a few hours. I can’t handle the memories and the sadness of thinking about Ryder and Jayson right now. Fallon takes my hand and leads me off the dance floor and up a flight of stairs to a sectional leather sofa against the wall of the VIP lounge. I fan my face with a cocktail menu, hoping to cool off a bit.
“What’s your poison, kitten?”
The VIP section is located on the second floor, and each section has its own balcony that overlooks the dance floor. It’s also quieter so I don’t have to shout at Fallon when I talk.
“Tequila okay with you?” I answer.
Fallon holds up four fingers to the awaiting server. No one asks to see my ID or his. The server comes back within a minute carrying four shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.
I grab two of the glasses, and after the server fills them halfway. I hastily tip them back, one after the other. “Holy shit, that stuff’s strong,” I gasp.
“Keep that up and I’ll have to carry you out of here.”
I grab the shot Fallon’s holding and tip that one back as well. “That’s the goal,” I say with a wince as the tequila burns a path down my throat to my stomach. “Total oblivion.”
