Page 64 of The Taste of Redemption
“Alright, mate? Night off, is it?”
They clasped hands and bumped shoulders like the oldest of friends.
“Yeah, all good. You?”
“Same old.” The bouncer sized me up. “Who’s the birdy?”
“Back off, Jason.” Chase pushed him away jokingly. “This is Nadia. She’s my boss’s sister.”
Jason laughed, holding the door open. The club Nick chose for my coming home party was far more appealing than this one. It was a cross between a dance club and a night club. Half-naked women danced on platforms, entertaining the crowds of sexually frustrated guys. Most of the floor space was deemed a dancefloor with a large, round bar in the middle. A small DJ station was tucked in at the back of the room in between two pillars which held the balcony. A few small tables were scattered around here and there, but the only chairs in sight were those in the VIP section upstairs.
The smell of stale beer made me cringe. I scooted closer to Chase, who smelled like mint and lemons. With our fingers still interlocked, we walked over to the bar and downed two shots of tequila after spending ten minutes in line waiting to be served.
The place was bursting at its seams, the enormous dancefloor packed with sweaty guys and writhing girls. I spotted Charles in one of the VIP lodges, but we didn’t bother going up there first. Chase pushed me into the crowd, then drew me close, dancing toThe Hillsby The Weekend.
“Relax,” he said.
He spun me around, resting one hand on my sternum. The oversized jersey wrapped around my sides, and the soothing, strangely satisfying smell of his cologne intensified. I had no urge to run. No trace of unease crossed my mind.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, my delight almost palpable. Whatever the reason, be it the help offered by Thomas, therapy, or medication, I was glad that Chase’s touch didn’t alarm me. It was a tangible proof I was getting better.
My hips swayed in sync with his. The song was too intimate for a club and too intimate to dance to with Chase, but he behaved.
“You can sing; you can dance; you’re beautiful… Why aren’t you signed with Nick’s label?” he asked five songs later when we headed back to the bar for another shot.
“It was never something I wanted to do. A lot of people can sing on key, Chase, but it’s not just about that, is it? It’s about the strength of the voice, the unique vibe, the ability to convey emotions. I can’t do that with my voice, but give me a pencil, and I’ll show you emotions you can’t even name.”
The bartender pushed four shots our way, and Chase handed him a twenty. “That you can. The drawings in the hallway at your apartment are amazing. They’re sad, raw and disturbing, but the emotions drip from every stroke. It’s quite unnerving if I’m honest.”
I laughed, urging him to drink.
“My past is disturbing, and that’s what I’ve been sketching lately—memories and feelings that hold me hostage.” We slammed the last two shots at the back of our throats, placing the glasses on the counter, bottoms up. “Enough with the heavy,” I said, hearing the first notes of the remixed version ofRosesby SAINt JHN. “I like this song.”
Chase smiled, the dimple making an appearance. He caught my hand and led me back to the dance floor, bouncing on his feet along with everyone else. He watched me laugh, sing and twirl around him, letting loose. His eyes shone with happiness; his hands found mine whenever I let go. The song slowed for a few seconds, and Chase made a show of resting his forehead on mine, ghosting his fingers over my cheeks.
“A smile suits you,” he said when the song faded into another one.
We headed back to the bar three songs later. Chase ordered a whole bottle of Tequila, pointing toward the balcony.
“Come on. We’ll have a few shots with the rest of the party.”
He took my hand, steering me toward the spiral, metal staircase, while filling me in on Charles’s utter lack of common sense when it came to drinking and the amusing situations he got himself into whenever he had too much alcohol.
“One time, some idiot, equally drunk, convinced him to get buddy tattoos… ofunicorns.He’s got it on his ankle.”
My chuckle ran short when we emerged on the balcony. The VIP section was to the right, and the moment we turned, I stopped in my tracks. Thomas occupied the seat beside Charles, his coat casually sprawled over the back of the chair.
Chase was already by the table, shaking hands with Ethan, but I couldn’t force my feet to move forward. I thought Thomas understood I needed time, but apparently, he didn’t.
Either that, or he wanted me to suffer.
Our eyes locked, deepening my disappointment. I had no money for a taxi back, but I would rather walk home than take a seat. Chrissy was probably on her way, ready to showcase her positivity and shower Thomas with sweet kisses.
I spun around, my heels clicking on the metal steps. Vibrations of bass amplified the impression of the floor shaking beneath me when I marched straight down the middle of the dancefloor, my mind nothing short of a swarm of angered wasps. The exit loomed in the distance. People stepped in my way, forcing me to walk around them.
Five fingers dug into my arm. Thomas pulled me back, slamming me against his broad, firm chest. The smell of his body engulfed my senses. I basked in the calmness he evoked: the familiarity of his touch, the smell of his cologne, shower gel and whatever he used to style his hair.
I gritted my teeth, stepping away and spinning around. “Why did you come here? Don’t you dare tell me it’s a coincidence! You’re not making this easier, Thomas. I told you that I need space.”
