18. KAVI

18

KAVI

The club is in a tall nondescript building with blackout windows. The stretch limo pulls us up to a side entrance. While we pile out, I hear giggles around the corner. The escapades of drunk partiers, waiting in line, trying to get in through the front doors.

For us, the velvet rope parts. A security guard directs us to an elevator. On the top floor, suspended above the middle of the club, is a wrought iron platform. Put your hands on the railing and you can see bodies gyrating below, smoke machines putting in overtime, and a tiled dance floor glistening with what I hope is sparkling cleanliness.

The Wings bounce like squirrels around me. I haven't known them long, but they are really goofy, sarcastic, and occasionally unhinged men. A team of freshly showered hockey players in suits letting loose after their win.

Lokhov stands out. The corner of his eyes strain, and the way his jaw muscles are working means he's suffering. As if he doesn't want to be here. As if everyone is a blight on his evening.

"How is it partying with us?" Matt asks me. "Better than the Blades?"

I know his name is Matt because the team officially introduced themselves to me in the box earlier. I give him a polite laugh.

On the rare occasions I've been out with Tyler's team, I was so overwhelmingly conscious of how to speak, smile, and fit in. Meanwhile, he ran laps talking to other people, usually leaving me behind to wait until he needed a break to come back.

"Sorry. Not going to answer that." I pretend my lips are a zipper being closed.

Matt gives me a wry grin, then makes room for Pink Headband to serve drinks. Before he gets to me, Sonya shows up. She opted out of the limo ride, choosing to drive herself separately. She grabs my hand and tugs me back downstairs so we can join the people.

We beeline for the bar. The bass is so loud it's rumbling inside me. Others don't seem to mind, bodies bouncing, hopping, and swaying to the crescendoing music. I've got to focus where to step, for at times it feels as if the ground is moving, instead of just everyone around us.

"Show me your moves," Sonya yells.

I shake my head. "You go first."

Her leg goes all the way up. It's a standing split… spin? The whole time, her face is so bored and blank that I can't help but laugh. She's the first and strangest ballerina I've ever met.

When it's my turn, I do an exaggerated chest-thrusting maneuver. My boobs bounce, but since I'd changed out of the shorts and oversized t-shirt combination before the game, a pink varsity jacket covers most of the action.

It's another thrifted piece, layered on top of a flared dress that makes my bum perky. Strappy heeled shoes complete the look.

"You look like you don't care what anyone thinks," decides Sonya.

"Actually, I care a lot! I'm a recovering people pleaser, phase one."

She cocks her head. "You know what helps with that?"

"Tell me!"

"Drinks!"

With that, we order gin and tonics. I ask for a splash of orange juice because the actual taste of alcohol is hard for me to keep down. I'm not a good girl. I don't like to swallow unpleasantry.

"How much for the drink?" Sonya asks the bartender.

"It's taken care of."

"By who?"

"Your men."

She scowls, baring teeth.

"The hockey players," he explains.

But before she can shove money at him, the bartender rushes to serve another group. Elbows jostle us until we're pushed to a side table. One of those skinny ones that will topple if you accidentally lean on it.

Sonya sips her drink. "So… How is the revenge on your ex plot going?

I grimace. "It's not really going."

"What's the hold-up?"

"I haven't posted anything on my socials. No one actually knows I'm here. He would never guess I was."

I could post. I should. But when you've made every decision in your life accommodating what other people will say or think or do, and then suddenly it's time to act on your own, it's so hard to pull the trigger. There's so much waffling and wondering what the right thing to do is.

"At this rate, I'll go back to my old life and nothing will have changed," I tell Sonya miserably.

Cool eyes skim me over. "Take your jacket off."

"What? Why?"

"Revenge starts with cleavage."

She grabs my drink, so I have both hands to move. I think about refusing, but at this point I'll try anything. I was screaming with fun at the hockey game, but now my adrenaline is champagne left out too long. It's fading, and I can't let that happen. I'm not ready to go back to the reality of my regular life.

I take off my jacket.

Immediately, a group of guys saunter over to us.

One wearing glasses offers me his hand. "Dance with me, beautiful."

Wow. She was right.

Behold the power of tits.

Because of them, I'm going to dance with a strange man in this club.

We chat for a few moments.

But before I can accept the dancing invitation, a broad-shouldered shadow falls on both of us.