Our first night hitting the bars and nightclubs in Florida was the first domino to fall in a swirling maze of hundreds of dominoes.
And every f**king one of them would later prove to be a bigger mistake than the last.
“Hey, that’s our song!” I said over the music bumping through the speakers inside the club.
I grabbed Elias by the wrist and tugged. He slid down from the bar stool and hit the dance floor with me. He had always been a hot dancer, and it helped that he had the body for it. But usually, it took a few drinks for him to loosen up enough to dance in public. He wasn’t afraid of it; he just never cared for it much.
Even that started to change with our new lifestyle.
“Since when did this become our song?” he shouted over the music.
I danced my way around, putting my back to him, raising my arms up and around both sides of his neck.
He ground his hips against me from behind, his fingers splayed against my thighs.
“Since that time at Matt’s party, remember?”
The beat picked up, and his grinding hips moved with it flawlessly. I about f**king died. The boy could dance.
I danced back around, facing him again, moving my upper body in a lithe, swaying motion against his.
“Oh yeah, I remember that night,” he said, leaning toward my ear. “But if I recall, after we danced to it in front of everyone, you left with Dane Weatherby.”
“Dane was just a friend,” I countered. And he was just a friend. “I was his shoulder to cry on that night. Nothing more. But you and me, we had the whole room. We owned it!”
Elias grinned and fit my hips in the palms of his hands, his long fingers spread like claws as he grinded against me some more.
He was so getting laid tonight.
“I guess we did, huh?” he said with a grin.
Suddenly Elias snatched me forward, his arm around my waist, and pulled me out of the path of a tipsy couple barreling through the crowd.
“Oh, sorry about that, man!” the guy said.
He was as tall as a tree and had short brown hair buzzed around the back. He grabbed hold of a strawberry-blonde woman’s elbow to keep her from falling over. She laughed and fell into his arms on purpose. Her huge boobs bulged into view from the force of his arm, which he held across her chest.
“I think I’ve had too much,” she said, raising her wine cooler out in front of her and then happily taking another drink.
The guy apologized again. And again. I wondered if he was just too drunk to remember he had already gotten that much out of the way.
“It’s all right,” Elias said, still holding me around the waist. “No harm done.”
We started to walk away from the dance floor and back toward the bar, but we only got halfway before the couple came up behind us.
“I’ve never seen you in here before,” the guy said.
“You must come here a lot, then,” I said, still being pulled along by my fingers. “To remember every face in a place this populated.”
A small part of me was worried he’d seen my face on a Most Wanted poster somewhere. But it was just the paranoia kicking in.
“We’re here every weekend,” the girl said.
She never stopped smiling. Neither of them did. They wore permanent, drunken smiles.
We finally made it back to the bar. Elias put his hands on my hips and lifted me onto the stool. He then sat on the empty stool next to me.
“I’m Anthony,” the guy introduced himself. “And this is Cristina.” He smelled of musk cologne.
I started to show them the same courtesy, but Elias jumped in a second before. “I’m John and this is my fiancée, Julia.”
Fiancée? That certainly got my attention. So much so that I had already forgotten the fake name he gave me.
“You live around here?” Anthony probed. He leaned against the bar next to an empty bar stool rather than sit. Cristina, who I assumed was his girlfriend, continued to use him as her makeshift crutch.
“No, we’re from—”
“—Indiana,” Elias jumped in.
I narrowed my eyes at him secretly from the side.
He softened his baby-blues, as if to say, Sorry, babe.
Instant forgiveness. He was in the right, though, because I had been about to say Georgia, just as I had been a second away from telling them our real names.
I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to this covert lifestyle of lies and highways and shitty motel rooms. But Elias was with me, and that made it all OK.
“How long will you be in town for?” Anthony asked.
“A day or two,” Elias said. “Then we’ll be heading back home.”
As Anthony helped Cristina onto the bar stool, his hands pushed underneath the fabric of her short flowered skirt. I noticed he wore hemp bracelets like mine, five or six thick ones wrapped around his left wrist. I wore them on both. Probably for different reasons.
Cristina called for the bartender, and he came over.
“Are you staying close by?” Anthony asked. He put up his hand and added, “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Why are you asking anyway?” Elias was wary of this guy, but just like me, it was only the paranoia.
Anthony smiled and paid for Cristina’s drink. “I own a beach house not far from here. We’re always trolling the clubs lookin’ to find people to invite. You’re welcome to come.”
Cristina almost fell off the bar stool and her drink thumped over onto its side. She fumbled the bottle back into an upright position. Clearly she didn’t need any more to drink.
“I think you’ve had enough,” Anthony said, reading my mind.
She whined when he took the bottle from her.
“Not in the mood to clean up after her tonight,” Anthony said, still with a big smile plastered on his face.
“Hey!” Cristina shot back, feigning offense and reaching out for the bottle. “Don’t be an ass!” She laughed.
Anthony ignored her and turned back to us. “So, are you up for it?”
“I don’t think so,” Elias said. “But thanks.”
“All right, but if you change your mind, I’ll be around here for another hour or so.”
“Thanks, man,” Elias said with a nod.
Anthony helped Cristina down from the bar stool and walked her on her wobbly legs through a small crowd, and they disappeared amid the throng of people.
“Maybe we should’ve gone,” I said over the music. “The guy owns a beach house. We could probably crash there for a few nights. He seems pretty cool.”