Page 39 of Manic

Amelia looked at me, a wrinkle of confusion lining her forehead before a wide grin of understanding replaced it. She laughed and shook her head.

“I knew Manic would come in handy.” Amelia beamed, then glanced at her friends. “Come on.”

The bouncer shook his head. “Just you two.”

“We all came together,” I argued.

“Boss said just you two.”

I gritted my teeth. Leave it to Manic to put the women dressed like call-girls on his VIP list, but I wasn’t about to stay in one location all night. I folded my arms across my chest, blood simmering. I figured Manic would have prevented our entrance if he was so worried about us being confused for one of his staff.

Music filtered onto the street from the open club door, drowning my growl of frustration. I was prepared to argue more when Colton stepped beside me with a kind, understanding smile.

“It’s okay, we’ll meet you both inside,” Colton said, jerking his chin toward the door. “We’re almost to the front anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Amelia frowned. “We came here with you—we don’t mind waiting.”

Jeremiah shrugged. “We can find you inside, it’s no problem.”

Amelia and I exchanged glances, and she tucked a silky strand of hair behind her ear. Then she pulled the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder.

“Okay. I guess we’ll see you inside then,” she agreed, and the bouncer gestured toward the doors.

Despite myself, I exhaled from not having to force any more conversations with them. They were nice, but I was here for Amelia, not them.

Once we stepped away, Amelia hooked her arm through mine. The doors opened, and the moment our heels touched the floor, Jeremiah’s clipped voice cut through the air. I turned, watching as the men argued on the sidewalk.

“What do you mean we’re banned? We’ve never even been here before… That's bullshit…”

My skin pebbled, as I assumed Manic prevented their entrance into his prestigious club. If he did, that was one less thing to worry about with my admirer, and Manic had unknowingly done them both a favor.

“Come on,” Amelia said in my ear, tugging on my arm as if she’d completely missed their argument. “Let's get some drinks.”

Music vibrated through the floors, and I had to blink a few times to adjust to the dim, red lighting. Elevated platforms sat near the back, showcasing the talented dancers who swayed in slow, practiced movements. They wore black masquerade masks and lacey undergarments. Some were topless. My cheeks blazed.

Tailored suits, polished shoes, and the waft of expensive alcohol stood out amongst the crowd, their presence more businesslike than the rest of the club. Perfume and faint cigar smoke curled around my shoulders.

My brows jumped, but I hid my nerves as we pushed through the throng of people. Light spilled from the hanging chandeliers onto the curved bar, veins of gold glowing like slivers of lava within the black marble. It was so shiny and polished that it reflected the perfect image of us on our approach.

I looked around as Amelia ordered, and multiple pairs of eyes clashed with mine. I tore my gaze away and smiled at the attractive bartender as he handed us our drinks. He returned my smile, and for a moment, I thought about striking a conversation with him.

But bitterness, cold and sharp, coated my tongue as my exchange with my admirer shot to the surface. I wanted to enjoy tonight, not focus on him like I usually did. Even if we lived in the same city, it wasn’t very often I got to see Amelia. I’d been such a recluse for the last eighteen months, so it was good for me to socialize. I needed to socialize.

Still, a dark cloud blanketed my mood, and guilt threatened to rise at my tiny sliver of happiness. I shouldn't be here, enjoying myself. Not when Noah rested in an overpriced wooden box six feet below the ground.

Too many emotions for different reasons flooded me all at once, and I was having a hard time picking which ones to focus on. Then Amelia faced me with a grin, and I quickly swallowed every consuming thought and returned her smile.

“Cheers!” she hollered, clinking her glass with mine.

Sometime later, I winced from the pressure in my bladder while bracing an elbow against a barstool. I set my finished drink down with a thud, my vision blurring at the edges. We’d skipped the VIP area altogether and decided to hang out at the bar since Manic and Grave still hadn’t shown up. I briefly wondered if they would appear at all.

Amelia hung off my arm, throwing her head back and laughing with a couple of patrons. Lawyers with peppered gray hair and black suits, practically bleeding money. Val was the older one with an easy smile. The other was Evan… I think.

I couldn’t care less, because now the air felt too thick, my legs too loose as the night dragged. I’d had one too many drinks, and by this hour, I would’ve already been tucked beneath my quilts with a good book.

My feet throbbed, and the ache of needing to use the bathroom was impossible to ignore. I shifted on my feet and squeezed Amelia’s arm, interrupting her conversation.

“I need to find a bathroom,” I said in her ear.