Here I was hanging out with two of the coolest girls I`d ever met--when I`d been excluded by cliques my whole life. It was thrilling to be immediately accepted as myself. And I didn`t know when I`d get a chance to come to the Dungeon again.
Okay, one song! I relented.
We thrashed around and giggled like we`d been best friends since childhood. I envisioned what life would have been like for me if Scarlet and Onyx had grown up in Dullsville. We`d have sleepovers during the day, paint our nails by moonlight, and gossip in the graveyard.
We rocked so hard, I thought my fake tattoos were going to fall off. The vampire theme was taken to the extreme in the Dungeon. Clubsters writhed together as if drinking in each other`s souls. As lustful guys` lips lay on giddy girls` necks, it was unclear where one clubster began and the other ended.
I was intoxicated by the music, the dangerous feel of the club, and my acceptance by Scarlet and Onyx. Then I noticed the time. I really have to go.
Already? But we can dance until dawn, Scarlet offered, tossing her luscious thick red curly hair off her shoulder.
I can`t. I`m supposed to meet someone.
Is he dreamy? Onyx asked.
Is he like us? Scarlet prodded.
I was too embarrassed to say I was meeting my aunt.
I`ll give you my number. Scarlet opened my purse, pulled out my cell, and punched in a ten-digit number. Call whenever you want, except during the day. My parents despise being woken up.
She hugged me hard, as did Onyx.
I hated to leave. Besides being with Alexander, I was having the best time of my life. I was reluctant to leave my discovery of the Dungeon behind.
When I stepped off the dance floor I noticed my boot had come unlaced. I hobbled off to one side, avoiding any clubsters who might trip over my long shoestrings. I had kicked up my boot on a chair and leaned on the archway for support when I sensed someone`s piercing gaze. Buried in the shadows of a small cavelike lounge, I could barely see the silhouette of a person sitting alone. Curious, I inched forward. From a safe distance, I peered through the darkness. A candelabra perched on the table gently illuminated the figure. First I saw motorcycle boots, crossed at the ankle, resting on the dirt floor, then tight black leather pants, like cellophane. I could see the sleeves of his motorcycle jacket, his chain, and his studded arms folded. I stepped a tiny bit closer and leaned into the ray of light. Purple hair flopped over black sunglasses. He seemed to be staring straight at me. It took a moment, but I broke his binding gaze and retreated into the safety of the shadows, or so I hoped.
Why was the motorcycle guy checking me out? And sitting alone like he was waiting to hold court?
I felt strangely drawn to him. His stare was magnetic.
Several rough-looking clubsters approached him--but instead of greeting him like one of the guys by slapping him on the arm or high-fiving him, they all nodded and entered the small chamber, sat down at the table around him, and waited for him to speak.
I desperately wanted to hear their secret conversation and get a handle on who or what this biker was all about.
He doesn`t have any idea about what vampires truly need, one clubster told the biker.
I think it`s time we do something, another said.
Before he ruins our plans, a third added.
The purple-haired biker leaned in, out of earshot.
The cagey guys were listening to him so intently, I could tell they were as entranced as I was. If the biker was these barbaric clubsters` leader, I could only imagine that I`d encountered someone twice as dangerous as Jagger and Valentine.
I felt my heart race again throughout my body when I realized my cell phone was vibrating. Aunt Libby again. Everyone, except for the biker, turned and glared at me. But the rock star biker dude remained still. It was as if he knew I had been standing there the whole time. I quickly headed for the archway leading back to the dance floor when all at once someone was standing in front of me, blocking my way.
I took a breath and looked up. His purple hair flopped down, seductively, over his Ray- Bans. His stern, hypnotic gaze bore through the dark lenses. There was something powerful about the mysterious stranger. He smelled like Obsession and towered over me in his thick motorcycle boots.
How did you get in? he asked in a heavy Romanian accent.
Do you own the club?
No, but I might. His leather jacket crackled as he folded his arms. I haven`t seen you before. His head lowered and it appeared he was checking out my neck. I suspect you don`t belong.
I fiddled with my earring, covering my smooth, bite-free neck with my palm. I felt slightly intimidated by him, but it didn`t prevent me from talking back.
How would you know? I challenged.