Page 67 of Hunter's Hidden Camera
Twyla leads the way, me and Oscar right behind her. The music follows us because there are small speakers above us that line the hallway. The fog is in here as well, though I don’t know where it’s being pumped in from. Another set of pulsing lights are coming from the end of this long hall.
There are offices along both sides of the hallway, their doors wide open. Lit candles sitting on the floor illuminate each office. Each space doesn’t have the furniture one would expect. Instead, there are classy stools and high-end padded folding chairs.
Some of the offices are unoccupied. Some of them have people in them, all wearing the same white half-masks that we’re also wearing, all having what looks like intimate conversations.
The hallway leads us to a large open area, where the lights are more plentiful (but still manage to keep things quite dim), the fog is thicker, and the music is louder.
In the center of this open area is a dance floor, directly underneath a spinning disco ball on the ceiling. On both sidesof the dance floor are more stools and folding chairs and now small tables. In front of us, on the far side of the dance floor, a makeshift bar has been set up.
There aren’t a lot of people here, considering the size of the space, maybe a couple dozen. A few people sit and drink, a few dance, and a few mingle with the bartenders.
It’s now clear that people who are working this event do not have masks on. It makes them very identifiable. The men wear suits; the women wear short black dresses.
From what I can tell, the masked people—the guests of Perpetual Sunset—are all different ages, Oscar and I being the youngest. The oldest might be in their fifties or sixties because of their white hair, but it’s hard to tell because, even with the pulsing lights, it’s still pretty dark in here. There seems to be about an equal number of males and females, and they seem to be of all different races, different sizes, different shapes, different body types. The women are mostly dressed in sexy outfits, and the men are stylish and well-groomed.
Before I know it, Twyla has led us to the bar. “What do you guys want to drink?”
Neither Oscar nor I drink much alcohol. Because we’re involved in sports year-round, we try to stay pretty healthy, in terms of fitness and nutrition and avoiding things like junk food, cigarettes, alcohol, and drugs. Once in a while, during breaks from school or during the summer, we’ll find someone to buy us beer from 7-Eleven or go to one of our friends’ houses whose parents are away and have left a bunch of alcohol behind.
Since I don’t drink that often, I’m kind of a lightweight. One beer, and I’m flying high. So I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to drink tonight. After all, we’re not here for fun, as Twyla seems to think (and Oscar as well). We’re here on a mission. Find Nash, watch Nash, do something that will solve the messed-up predicament that I’m in. What that is exactly, I don’t know, so I’d better not throw alcohol into the mix.
“Hey, Fatima!” Twyla yells over the music, over my shoulder.
Oscar and I turn around, and we spot a curvy girl with black hair at the other end of the bar. She waves back to Twyla and starts walking over to us. She’s got a shot glass in her hand, filled to the rim with a light brown liquid.
“Twyla? Is that you, girl?” says Fatima.
“Of course!”
They hug.
Twyla points at me. “Nash is here already.”
Fatima smiles wide. “Nash?! Oh, my God, I was hoping you’d be here tonight.”
Fatima hugs me tight and squeezes my ass.
Then, she turns to Oscar. “And who is this hot, young thing?”
I don’t want to risk Oscar forgetting his fake name, so I say, “This is my friend Victor.”
“That’s right,” says Oscar. “I’m Victor. And girl, even with that mask on, I can tell you fine as hell.”
Fatima giggles, hugs Oscar, and caresses his right bicep. Oscar is all smiles.
Fatima takes a step back. “Nash. You look different.”
I’ve gotten this far. I can’t have my cover blown.
She furrows her brow. “Very different. I’m tipsy enough to think you look like a totally different person.”
“Oh,” I say, to buy time. “I styled my hair different tonight.”
She looks unconvinced.
Processing all the information we’ve gotten today, I decide to take a risk because I have to diffuse the suspicion immediately.
I lean towards Fatima and place my lips gently against hers. The moment I do so, she opens her mouth and uses her tongue to feel for mine. She grabs onto my hips and presses the lower half of her body into my crotch. She grinds.
