Michael handed her Stella’s credit card. “We’d like to reserve the table for the rest of the night. Water for me. Stella?”
He wasn’t drinking, too? She wasn’t sure she wanted to do it alone. “Something sweet, please.”
The waitress arched an eyebrow but gave a professional nod. “Coming right up.”
After the waitress disappeared, Michael explained, “I’m driving.”
She smiled. “I like this responsible side of you.”
“Michael is always responsible, aren’t you, man?” A stranger appeared out of nowhere, and Stella watched in awe as he helped himself to the sofa opposite them. He wore a tight black T-shirt over bulldog-hunched shoulders and kept his hair buzzed close to his scalp. She tried not to stare rudely at the intricate tattoos decorating his muscled arms and neck, but it was difficult. She’d never seen so many tattoos up close.
Michael sat forward. “Quan—”
The stranger gave Michael a hard look. “No, I get it. You must have lost your phone or something.” Switching his attention to Stella, he said, “I’m Quan, Michael’s favorite cousin and best friend.”
Cousin. Best friend. Her nerves jumped into high tension. She held her hand out over the table. “Stella Lane. Nice to meet you.”
He stared at her hand with an amused expression before he shook it and sprawled back against the sofa. “So he does have a girlfriend, after all. Let me guess, you’re a doctor.”
As she opened her mouth to correct him on both accounts, Michael wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his side. “Stella’s an econometrician.”
She gazed up at him in confusion until she realized he was worried she’d divulge his escorting to his cousin. Then, she mentally rolled her eyes. Her social skills were bad, but they weren’t that bad.
Quan surprised her by leaning toward her with a bright expression. “That’s related to economics, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Has she met Janie yet?” he asked Michael.
Who was Janie?
But Michael didn’t appear to hear the question. His attention was focused on a petite blond woman seated at the bar. When she patted the empty bar stool next to her, he cursed under his breath and got to his feet. “I’ll be back in a second.”
Stella’s body went cold as she watched him stride to the bar. He sat on the indicated bar stool, and the blonde trailed her fingers down his arm. They spoke, but their words couldn’t be heard above the music and the noise from the growing crowd.
When had so many people arrived? Their numbers had almost doubled since she’d entered. More continued to file into the club in a steady stream.
“I-is that Janie?” she asked.
“I don’t know who that is, but it’s not Janie.” After glancing at Stella’s face, Quan smiled slightly. “He clearly didn’t want to talk to her, okay? You have nothing to worry about.”
But it didn’t feel like she had nothing to worry about. The blonde laughed at something Michael said and edged closer to him. Enviably luscious breasts flattened against his arm. Whatever happened next was blocked from view as people gathered around the bar.
“Are there usually this many people here?” Stella asked.
“Nah.” Quan rubbed at the scruff on his head and stretched his neck side to side. “This popular DJ is spinning tonight, so it’s busier than normal. The acoustics are really good here. Prepare to be blown away.”
She swallowed past a lump in her throat, and a sense of foreboding settled in her gut. Since when was being blown away a good thing? Hundreds of bodies packed the room now. Far more than she’d anticipated.
A grating electronic boom erupted from speakers built into the ceiling, and Stella’s heart lurched so hard her chest hurt. The room flashed red before flames began dancing up the walls. The crowd screamed with excitement while Stella struggled to breathe. Lasers and smoke. The grating receded, and ephemeral, orchestral sounds whispered over the room. Before she could attempt to relax, a beat picked up in the background, gaining speed with a slow buildup.
“Don’t look so scared,” Quan shouted. “That’s not real fire. It’s just LED lights and projectors.”
The waitress appeared out of thin air and plopped a drink onto the table. She said something, but Stella couldn’t hear it. In two blinks, the waitress vanished into the mass of moving bodies. The music worked toward some kind of climax, and the people grew agitated as it neared.
Stella picked up the drink and took a large gulp. Lemon, cherry, and amaretto. She wished it were vodka, or, better yet, straight ethanol. It would work faster that way.
Quan gave her an amused look. “Thirsty?”