A Five-Minute Life

Keep me safe.

It was my vow and it included keeping her happiness safe. Protecting her from Delia’s attempts to tear it down.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s hit it.”

We took an Uber to a Korean barbecue restaurant on West 50th Street, near the piers on the Hudson. We ate a quick dinner, then crossed the street toward a massive, five-story dance club called FREQ.

“Night clubs aren’t really your thing, are they?” Thea asked.

“Not so much,” I said. “But I’ll survive.”

“You’re so good to me,” she said, sudden tears in her eyes. All during dinner she’d been on the edge of her seat, jumping at every noise. One second seeming on the verge of tears, then bursting out laughing.

“What’s wrong,” I asked.

She wiped her eyes. “Nothing, I’m just so… happy with you. And this trip has been so amazing. I hate that it’s ending. I need to celebrate everything tonight. I need to dance. And drink. And then dance some more.”

“Wait,” I said, taking her hand. “Can you mix alcohol with Hazarin? I didn’t think to ask in the bar, but are there side effects?”

“Oh, definitely not. Says so right on the label.”

An itchy feeling came over me at her wild energy, along with the sudden urge to get her back to the hotel and…

And what? Watch TV? She wants to be out in the world, having a good time. Keeping it wild.

It was inked right into my skin—her promise to me. To stop holding back and second-guessing everything.

“You sure?” I said. “Swear to me there’s no warning about alcohol on that label.”

Thea turned to meet my gaze head on. “I swear there is no alcohol warning on that label. Why the hell would I jeopardize my memory?” A sudden smile twitched the corners of her mouth. “Don’t worry, when we stumble back into the hotel tonight, I’ll show you.”

“It’ll be too late by then,” I said.

“Then you’ll just have to trust me, Jimmy.”

She was smiling but her eyes held the challenge. Do you trust me to know what I want when no one has in years?

“I trust you,” I said.

Her shoulders relaxed and her gaze softened. “Thank you,” she said, easing a breath. “Now let’s have some serious fun.”

We joined the line snaking around the corner of the club. Since it was relatively early, it moved fast. Once inside, Thea went straight to the bar and grabbed us two stools on the corner.

“We need shots,” she declared. “Tequila.”

“You haven’t been drunk in more than two years,” I reminded her. “Your tolerance is going to be shit.”

“Which is why I’ll only need one shot,” she said with a grin. “Or two. Or three.”

“Two, max,” I said.

Her eyes flashed. “Are you telling me what to do now, too?”

“Babe, you weigh about a hundred pounds. I don’t want you to get alcohol poisoning.”

She smirked. “I weigh a lot more than a hundred pounds.” She silenced my protest with a kiss. “Thank you for keeping me safe, but I can take care of myself too. I’ll drink lots of water.” Thea called to the bartender, “Tequila shots, sir.”

“That’s how you do it, honey,” said a woman from the mixed group of young people next to us.