over a fifty-euro note and then they were inside. Strobes flashed in the darkness, and an old-school Studio 54–style disco ball spun overhead. A twentysomething woman sat at the DJ station at the back of the dance floor, her hands constantly moving among two iPhones and three turntables. She reminded Kira of those multiarmed Indian statues from her Introduction to World Religions class, the Whateversvada. But the woman was fantastic; really good DJs found connections in the music that weren’t obvious until they made them. They turned beats into waves, dancing into surfing. Endless summer. The Beastie Boys slid into some kind of African drumming into Cold War Kids into the briefest cut of Adele, a transition that should never have worked, but it did, yes it did. Plus, the place had a fantastic sound system… pure, clean, the music seemingly coming from everywhere without being overwhelming.
Kira wanted to put her arms up and move, open the gates to the rhythm flooding through her.
Or maybe she was just drunk. No matter. Jacques and Lilly turned for the bar, but she grabbed them both and led them to the floor and they danced, hips swaying, nothing mattered but now, and Lilly felt it too. She smiled, and Kira grinned back, recognizing a fellow traveler.
Finally, she didn’t know how long, Jacques led her off. “Beer?”
“Yes, please.”
Lilly stuck out her lower lip as they walked off, an exaggerated pout, You’re leaving me, but even before they reached the bar, a Spanish guy took her hand and pulled her deeper onto the dance floor.
Kira wanted to pay for their beers, but Jacques insisted. “I owe you. I’m sorry, I know my sister wasn’t what you expected.”
She couldn’t disagree. They found a couch in the corner. Jacques sat next to her and put an arm around her and they watched the dancers writhing in pleasure.
“What would aliens think, if they came down and saw this?” Drunk question alert!
“I think they would park their spaceship, yes?” Jacques said, “and join in.”
“Intergalactic peace. Well, if me and your sister can get along”—she snuck a look at his watch. About one. Ugh. Kira hated to end this night now that they’d finally unlocked it. But she’d better text Becks, check in. She’d promise to be home by two. Two thirty, maybe. She knew she was pushing her luck, but how mad could they get?
She reached into her purse. Gone. Her phone was gone. No way. It must have fallen out somehow, this wasn’t her usual purse. It was a little date-night black one, a snap instead of a zipper, and she’d overstuffed it. Stupid. She checked again: three twenty-euro notes, credit card, driver’s license—her passport was back at the apartment. Lipstick, mints, condoms. Three condoms. Might as well think positive. A rape whistle courtesy of the Tufts Women’s Center and pepper spray courtesy of her mom, If somebody grabs you, whistling won’t cut it.
No phone. She wondered if she should retrace her steps, but forget it, it was an iPhone, not even a year old, no way was anybody giving it back.
“Can I borrow your phone?” she asked Jacques.
He unlocked it, handed it over. She couldn’t remember Rebecca’s number for a minute, embarrassing. She always depended on her phone for it. Then she did, sent off a quick text, Mom its K at helado dance club lost my fone home soon 2ish.
Okay, not the greatest message but whatever. Now they knew where she was. She clicked Send, watched the text go through. She gave Jacques back his phone. “If she texts let me know.”
Just then Lilly showed up, followed by her new dance partner. He was older and rougher than he’d looked from a distance. In his thirties, muscular going to fat. The strobe lights revealed his pitted skin.
Jacques stood and Lilly sat next to Kira on the couch. “This is Rodrigo.”
“Hi, Rodrigo.”
“He’s got a present.”
Rodrigo reached into his pocket, came out with a plastic bag. Inside, a glass vial, a tiny silver spoon, a bottle of nasal spray.
He unscrewed the vial, tilted it at them so they could see the white powder inside. His nails were painted black, Kira noticed.
Okayyy then. Kira shook her head, No thank you. She’d never even seen the stuff before.
“It’s just cocaine,” Lilly said.
“Oh, just cocaine.” Kira figured coke was just as illegal in Spain as in the United States.
“It’s fun.”
“You first.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Lilly took the vial, spooned out a little bump of white powder. She leaned forward, snorted,