I waved back, passing Mariska my smoothie. “Here, drink the rest. You know I love you, and I don’t believe a bit of that aura shit.”
“Tomorrow night. You wait. It’s going to change everything.”
* * *
The Cay was a brand new club that shined like a penny. Most of the dance clubs were in Toms River or Seaside Park, so it was a double bonus to have a place so close to home, even if Mariska predicted it would be closed in a month. I decided to live in hope. Inside, everything caught the light, from the new brass hardware behind the bar to the red vinyl on the barstools.
An enormous dance floor filled the center of the space, with disco lights and strobes bouncing off everything. Thick brass railings framed dancer cages suspended at the four corners of the floor, and a DJ booth was in the back center.
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A second level housed rows of red-vinyl booths with small tables leading to balconies where patrons could look down on the floor below. It was impressively posh, and when we arrived at ten, it was steadily filling with Ocean County singles. It was also a far cry from the dusky, antique-beaded-curtain style of the Dancing Gypsy, which reminded me.
“Elaine took me to this amazing bar in Wilmington.” I shouted over the thumping dance mix as I took a sip of my Tequila Sunrise. “It was called the Dancing Gypsy. You would’ve loved it.”
“Sounds like it.” Mariska took a long sip of her Mojito. Tonight she was dressed in a short-short black sheath with a long, sheer spider-web-patterned overlay and ankle boots. “But wait—you said Elaine? I thought you didn’t think she liked you.”
“Ugh!” I shouted. “I was right about that, but I think we’re all good now.”
I turned my back to the bar and surveyed the crowd. I wore a short, smoky-blue dress with mile-high black stilettoes. A few potentially dateable males were scattered around the room, and I loved the return of my feelings of freedom. It had been so long since I’d gone out dancing with a friend and enjoyed myself without being wracked by guilt.
“You have got to tell me what happened this weekend, but first we need to enjoy this place.” I noticed Pete enter the club with two other guys. They were all dressed in jeans and short-sleeve polos, and they all went in different directions once they got inside.
Leaning into her ear, I spoke just over the music. “Heads up—Pete just walked in the door.”
Her lips pressed together, and we both turned to face the bar, moving our heads close together. “Did he see us?”
“Don’t know, but I’m thinking we’re kind of hard to miss. It isn’t that crowded yet.” I couldn’t resist teasing her. “I bet Pete’s loving your crush on the new guy.”
Straightening up to face me, she shook her head, eyes round. “Oh, no. It’s not a crush at all.” I frowned, but she continued. “I mean, Slayde’s definitely doable, and you know I love the wounded ones.”
“But?” I took the last pull from my drink as the bartender placed Number 2 in front of me.
“I like my injured ones sweet.” She took another hit of mojito while I paid for my second Tequila Sunrise. “Slayde seems like more of a biter.”
Snorting, I shook my head as I sipped my drink. “You probably said something about his aura, and it ticked him off.”
“It’s not true! I think I ticked him off when I tried speaking sign language to him.”
“What?!”
A swirl of warmth to my left, and Pete was with us, smiling down at Mariska. “Hey, sexy. I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.”
The desire in his voice almost killed my buzz, considering what I knew about his chances. It was a shame, too, because Pete was hot—tall, muscular, with light brown hair and nice eyes.
“Hey, Pete, I’m going to dance,” I said, ignoring Mariska’s variety of facial expressions trying to get me to stay.
“Hey, Ken,” he called after me. “Like the hair.”
I did a little wave over my shoulder and plunged right into the sea of gyrating bodies. The DJ was playing loud dance music, and I closed my eyes letting it wash over me and take me out on a sea of techno. It wasn’t long before I felt the warmth of a body behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I met a perfectly white smile in a tanned face.
His eyes were a little hard to make out because of the brim of his cap, but he wore a black tank that showed off all his muscles and ink. He was straight-up sexy.
Turning to face him, I noticed he was wearing jeans and a loose gold watch on one arm. My eyes went back to his face. Bad-boy grin. I could work with this.
He leaned forward near my cheek. “I’ve been watching you all night. You’re like a pixie with that hair.”
Lifting my chin, my voice was coy. “Would that make you Peter Pan?”