Haze - By Andrea Wolfe Page 0,91

were done eating, we headed back to the Roosevelt to go to Teddy's. Even though it was definitely a hipster hotspot, it was said to be a real taste of Hollywood nightlife.

"I don't love this place," Jack said. "I'll say that up front."

Stacy concurred. "Me either."

"Well, we can skip it, I guess," I mumbled quietly, hoping no one would take my suggestion, but adding to the conversation anyway. Teddy's—for me at least—was intended to be more of a distraction than anything else since I really wanted to come back to Los Angeles as soon as possible and experience even more.

"But," Jack said, pausing to ramp up the suspense, "it's a good introductory place. And I don't hate it. Samantha Ronson used to DJ here."

"Wait, who is she again?" I asked, her name instantly evoking a very blurry memory of something.

"There was all that shit about her and Lindsay Lohan. Someone was supposedly a bad influence on the other. Typical stuff here."

"I've met Lindsay a few times," Stacy interjected quietly. "She's really talented, but she's lost her focus."

Jack and I both nodded, our Lindsay Lohan knowledge already exhausted—and ready to enjoy ourselves.

The inside was great, the space filled with all sorts of attention-grabbing, stylish eye candy. Beautiful chandeliers hung from the ceiling, overlooking the fun that was taking place down below. It was dim and sexy, dark enough that you didn't have to feel self-conscious—but not so much that you fell over because you couldn't see where you were going.

Lights pulsed with music, the crowd was tireless and enthusiastic. The soundtrack was a blend of techno and Top 40, a combination I was okay with. Jack grabbed us all some drinks—I never really liked dancing while holding a glass or bottle, so I would drink fast—and then we prepared to have fun.

I'm not going to lie, I wasn't usually one for going out to clubs like this. Jack had joked about it early on, speaking of his party past like it was something that he was ashamed of or had totally outgrown.

But something told me I just needed to embrace this weird scenario, to take the plunge and go for it. I hated to keep harping on the same redundant fact—yes, I was hanging out with Stacy Levons in Los Angeles and I couldn't believe it as usual—but damn, everything felt fresh and new when you added an element like that. There was no other way to describe it.

On top of that, it baffled me that I hadn't even considered the fact that Jack might have brought me to meet Stacy. I mean, even when we had arrived in Los Angeles and I had been elated to just be within the city limits, I hadn't considered it at all.

We danced and danced, all three of us, for what seemed like hours. I wasn't checking my cell phone, wasn't concerned about any worldly thing. After the incident today at the party, it was exactly what I needed. The dancing was a perfect catharsis, a full purge of my neurotic, panicked state.

Jack was goofy and charming on the dance floor—oh God, and it made everything far more fun than it should have been—always impressing us with a new move after we assumed we'd seen it all. He was totally uninhibited, and it only made me more comfortable with my own awkward dancing. Well, I felt awkward dancing most of the time, anyhow.

"There's no right or wrong way to dance," Jack had said, real wisdom for the ages. It was as if he had sensed my initial apprehension.

And even cooler than that, Stacy didn't feel like a third wheel at all. There were no awkward dynamics or anything else. I danced with her sometimes, I danced with Jack other times, and we all danced together most of the time. It was hot and sweaty and loud, but that was just what I needed.

Although I wasn't sure of the exact time when Stacy left, it seemed like she stuck around longer than she had planned originally. It made me feel good to know that perhaps she had had fun in my presence. She was also an actor, so maybe she was just acting—but it felt real to me.

We screamed our goodbyes to her, deciding to remain on our own for a short while after she departed. She waved as the crowd scattered enough to let her through. If anyone had paid attention, they probably would have been begging her for an autograph. I was somewhat