by A Uscila
Thus, with a flourish and a forceful tug of the door-knob – he was through the door and onwards to hell.
“Shit”
Another twist, and Luke was back inside.
Why? He forgot his umbrella and jacket. It was cold outside and the forecast predicted rain.
A few more moments and the nervous-wreck was outside again, fingers fumbling to lock the doors absentmindedly – the mind clearly somewhere else.
“You done yet? I’m not waiting all night, you know” – A slightly teasing, female tone drifted from behind, which ended up startling the scatter-brain a little bit, the effect becoming more apparent as it finally dawned on Luke to whom the voice belonged, as he quickly finished up with the door and turned.
And ended up freezing in place, chin hanging low and widened eyes glued to Willow, who was looking a little otherworldly. Literally – since she looked exactly like in Virtual Reality, a fact that was hard to believe if he would hear of it and didn’t see it for himself, his eyes - captivated by her own, no doubt made more distinct with the help of plenty of eye-liner and professionally done eye-shadows. Skin smooth and clear, while the emphasized facial lines made her mature beauty look more pronounced and attractive. She wore a black, leather jacket, with a one-piece dress of the same color underneath – the patterns on it simple, not too extravagant or frilly, yet serving perfectly in making her lean figure more distinct. Together with all her womanly charms, of which she had plenty. Finally, she had her dark hair rolled into a neat bun, with a simple pin inserted to keep it together, the hair-style revealing the back of her neck, which drew the gaze every now and then. Truly, she out-did herself this time and by the looks of it, Willow knew it quite well - the self-satisfied smirk all too obvious, yet clearly oblivious of the transparency of that expression. Oblivious to the shallowness of the intent behind all that effort, to the narcissism of it. How long did she spend looked at her own reflection in the mirror? Marveling at the undeniable splendor, reveling in the gazes of adoration and worship that would fall on her before she even stepped out of her home. Taking great pleasure in the feeling of victory, once Luke would cast his gaze upon her? Oh, joyous dominance over the weak-minded simpleton that he was, payback for all the times he wasn’t as nice to her as she no doubt deserved. A petty kind of victory, though Luke had to admit - she did have the right to it. She did win, after all. For Luke was indeed captivated, bewitched even, by her beauty.
“Like what you see?” – A jarring question spoken through a sarcastic smirk was what finally got the stunned Luke out of the stupor, his expression falling into one of confusion for a moment – pulled from the dark-depths of his mind, only to soon resume the usual one of mild-displeasure. There it was, her victory speech. A kick to a man already down. Was he ever up, to begin with though? It almost felt, like Luke has been down on the ground for a long while now, throwing pointless and harmless jabs and insults at all those peering from above – “Oh please. I’m just teasing. Let’s go have some fun” – with a light-hearted chuckle, Willow grabbed onto Luke’s hand and dragged him outside – the action mostly successful since the fellow was still somewhat disorientated and still adrift within his own mind. A corner of his lips twitching for a moment or two, threatening to reveal a self-deprecating sneer. He expected more of a victory speech, though in current circumstance – he guessed there was need for it. After all, the result of whatever mind-game she just initiated was clear as day. Without even fully understanding it – Luke couldn’t help but feel as if he has completely lost.
Yet, a question did gnaw at thoughts incessantly – which look came first, the one in Alternative Reality or the one outside of the game? Did Willow construct her avatar to reflect her best from real life or did she discover a new height to her beauty inside the game and decided to bring it to life outside of it? Seemed like a good a question to contemplate as any, especially since it helped get his mind away from such close proximity with the sly-fox. A fact that would cause a headache, if addressed.
To reach their eventual destination, the two called a taxi – an action in which Luke took-up a passive role, Willow doing all the heavy lifting of calling, talking and eventually – directing the taxi driver, since the self-absorbed idiot offered her the frontal seat, a raised eyebrow given in reply from his companion. While he himself sat in the back, shrouded in the dark and away from the casual conversation in the front, passing lights sliding over his closed-off and distressed expression every now and then. Indeed, he just couldn’t help but savor the moment of solitude. Of peace and quiet. As if these few fleeting moments would be the last chance to charge-up for what came next. Last few moments to psychologically prepare. Last few moments of bliss, compared to what came after.
When such thoughts ran their course, time went by slower and the half-hour journey slunk by at a snail’s pace – spent in deep-contemplation and nerve-wrecking anticipation. It was no surprise that when Luke finally got out of the taxi, he wore an expression of a death-row inmate resigned to the execution.
“Don’t be so nervous. It’s going to be fine, you’ve got me with you, after all” – With a warm and caring tone, Willow came out of nowhere, her words of comfort spoken just as a soft hand slid into Luke’s own.
The contact shocked the poor man like a surge of electricity.
With sudden movement, Luke jerked away from the sly-vixen like a startled animal – his head in a chaotic flux from the unexpected mental sucker-punch, delivered so precisely and sliding right under his guard. Oh, she was good. Not only did she discover precisely what he was so distraught about, but managed to step in like an angel, a benevolent and caring savior, all the while gathering some personal dirt on him to jab at later – since the hand that she touched was quite sweaty at the time. She’d never let him forget that. Ever.
“Nervous? Who said I’m nervous? Nonsense! It was just a little hot and uncomfortable in the car” – Good thing that Luke was quick on his feet, as he swiftly threw in a misdirecting comment and a relatively valid, at least in his mind, explanation for the sweaty appendage.
All he got in reply was a hearty-laugh, enough to make her bend-over slightly from the strain. This was definitely not a good sign. She obviously thought that she had him by the balls, so to speak, and was right, even though Luke would argue the point. Yet, regardless if she was right or not in truth, what really mattered was what she thought to be fact and changing that, will demand all the effort and wits that Luke could muster up.
Too bad he didn’t have a solution at the time, thus only one conclusion could be made - sometimes a graceful retreat was better than an ugly loss and without much elaboration or arguing, Luke simply shrugged and sauntered off and down into a club in which the company party was being held. A bright red sign blinking above the entrance – Euphoria. Did not sound like the best place for an official, corporate party.
“Hey…wait up!” – Reproachfully, did Willow shout from behind, her voice interrupted by the occasional giggling fit – “I’m…sorry, ok!? I can’t walk fast in these damn high-heels!” – The apology made all the less believable due to the same interruptions, though the laughter did seem to finally stop when it came to a matter of her personal safety. Walking down stairs with high heels must be a really tricky matter.
Luke could only smile as he climbed down a steep flight of stairs, all the while imagining how that female comedian would soon traverse the same route, alone. With high heels. It was his time to giggle – the sound of it completely drowned out as soon as he stepped through a sound-proof door and into the club itself. A wave of excruciatingly loud music almost physically smacking him in the face and actually forcing the poor bastard a step back.
“Fuck” – He mumbled under the nose.
The club was one big, square expanse – a big lighted stage at its’ end, with the sides around and in front of it divided into two floors – both of which were littered with tables and seats and provided a clear-enough view of the dancefloor. Which was pa
cked to the brim with people shaking their appendages off, while a hired DJ blared deafening tunes that were no doubt popular these days. Not like Luke would know, him being completely isolated from the world and its’ pop-culture.
“Excuse me, this is a private party. Could I see your invitation?” – Luke turned his gaze to the side only to look upon a young, well-built male in a black suit, looking right back expectantly, the question shouted right into Luke’s ear loud enough to be heard over all that racket. All that effort turning out to be counterproductive, as the newly-arrived guest ended up being startled from the unexpected, out-of-nowhere welcome. A moment of silence followed, as the two stared off and Luke was busy deciphering the sequence of sounds that his hearing caught in an attempt to give them meaning and understand what the question was. Since judging by the tone – it certainly sounded like one. After all, asking the young fellow to repeat it was way too rude and frankly – kind of embarrassing.
Good thing a certain someone, that entered soon after, bought him some extra time – for as soon as Willow stepped through the door, a slight frown setting between her eyebrows, the young attendant widened his eyes and seemed to have completely forgotten the guest whose invitation was requested first. With a sudden burst of energy, he dashed to the attractive woman, shouting something with a warm smile and a lightly bowed head. What was said became quite obvious once Willow lightly sneered, turning her back to the fellow and allowing her jacket to be taken and hanged. A number plate was soon given back with that same pleasant smile and a few additional words, which were no doubt pleasant, thrown in as a bonus.
Willow, being polite, flashed a smile of her own and walked towards Luke.
“You could have at least helped me down those damn stairs, asshole” – Only to shout a complaint at him that felt like a gust of fresh air. This was what Luke preferred, without a doubt. Pure and simple hostility. Easy to understand and easy to react to. Uncontrollably, a smile creeped into his features as the two turned and stepped into the club’s interior. Or at least Willow did, since Luke was quite rudely stopped as he felt a tug at the left elbow – turning to see the same young fellow smiling back. Not even a speck of warmth in it, though.
“Could I see your invitation, please?” – Of course. Willow didn’t need one, why would she? Her beauty was an invitation by itself. But Luke? He’d be lucky if he was allowed-in even with the damn invitation.
“Sure, here it is” – Too tired to complain, he fished it out from the inner pocket of his jacket, handing it over and turning to see as the supposed source of moral support and escort walked off on her own – only to be soon approached by a suiter. One of the first in an unavoidable wave, no doubt. Luke couldn’t help but wonder – would he see blood spilled this evening? One could only hope. As long as it wasn’t his own.
“Thank you. May I take your jacket?” – Surprisingly, the invitation was acceptable enough and the fellow even took his jacket – giving back a number plate in turn. Number 13, one could only wonder if this was some sign of what was to come.
Clearly somewhat pessimistic, Luke soon entered the main interior of the club, a glance shot to Willow’s position and the now four males that have approached her – both parties exchanging, no doubt, witty remarks and replies. All smiles and laughs. Lovely.
Unwilling to interrupt the splendid mood, Luke decided to carry on past and deeper inside, stepping clear of the dancing floor and towards the bar – a perfect spot for those that didn’t fit in too well and needed a healthy dose of liquor to keep themselves busy and dull the sense of reality. To distract himself from thoughts of Willow, for a distant sense of loss did seem to drift at the back of his head. Some sort of male instinct no doubt. A sense of competition between other males, in a fight for the attention of a chosen female. Or maybe he felt like he lost the battle for her all-together? Lost the right to lay claim on her. Which was a stupid train of thoughts. After all – she wasn’t his to begin with, nor would she ever be.
“One white beer, please. Any kind” – He ordered when his turn to be attended finally came, the bartender - another young fellow who seemed nice enough. Especially since he didn’t ask any questions or say anything at all – jumping to the task as soon as it was put forward.
With a mug of beer in hand, Luke took a sip and slightly frowned. That wasn’t too bad, way better than dark beer at least and enough to numb the mind quickly, seeing as he wasn’t much of a drinker. Lack of practice or poor resistance, hard to say. He was never a big fan of alcohol – since neither the taste nor the feeling that came after drinking enough of it was a pleasant experience in his humble opinion. There was something unsettling about the numbness that came with being drunk – made him feel somehow, vulnerable. As if the self, upon which he imagined having a relatively firm grasp, would start slipping through the fingers and out of his control. And control is what he needed to do, because god only knows what he would say or do without it and where that would eventually lead. Nowhere good, that’s where.
“Luke! How pleasant of you to join us!” – Luke almost choked on his beer at the sound of that familiar and quite disliked voice, turning slowly to look upon that apparition. Albert, a colleague from another section that was responsible for the arrangement and distribution of reviewable locations. Basically – he was one of the people that made Luke’s life all the worse by giving him shitty locations to go to. Sometimes, those to which he already visited before, as if adding salt to the wound. What a bunch of bastards.
He was slightly taller than Luke, of gentle features, though a pronounced and manly chin. His short hair - dark, cut and swept back in quite the fitting manner. Especially to that smug smile of his. Those sharp, slightly narrowed eyes – gazing at the addressed victim in an almost scorning gaze. A few female coworkers standing right behind, close enough to hear the conversation, eyes darting at the two men. Of course. Why wouldn’t there be?
Quite the fantastic development. Someone else with a need to glower down at him from a perch. Someone else with a need to build up their self-worth by stepping on his own, which would be somewhat interesting in and of itself. How far will they push it? Whose bottom line was below? Their sense of morality or Luke’s sense of worth? He barely held back a chuckle. It would be quite a contest, no doubt – a conclusion that simply demanded another sip from the mug. And so he did, gaze turned to the side, staring nowhere in particular.
“Hey Albert” – A terse greeting coming only after the action was finished, eyes staring into the bar in front, unmoving. Clearly, Luke wasn’t much in the mood for a chat.
“And here we thought you wouldn’t come, after all – it wouldn’t be the first time, right?” – With a tone that displayed nothing but good-natured humor, yet a sneer that stated quite the opposite, the annoying pest dropped a question that didn’t really need a reply, turning to look for approval and maybe even applause from his two female companions. Wonder which one he’d take home after the party? The one with the long, straight, red hair, dressed in a frilly one-piece dress? Or the blond in tight-fitting jeans and a colorful blouse? Maybe both? Somehow, that wouldn’t be surprising. He needed that much to feed his ego, after all. Though it would only satiate it for a few days at best. Luke could only wonder – was stepping on someone like himself very filling? Shouldn’t be more than just desert, after all – there wasn’t much to step on – “Now that I think about it, isn’t this the first time you’re attending?” – With an expression as if the thought just came to him and seemed too hard to believe, Albert leaned onto the bar and closer to Luke, intent on meeting his eyes quite fervently. What was he hoping to see? Was that really supposed to sting or drive Luke into some imaginary social corner?
“Well, you know me. I never did have the spare time for pointless stuff” – Oh, how Albert’s face fell a little at the reply, was quite the lovely sight. That look of disgust the two female onlookers gave him slightly stung though.
“That comes as no surprise. After all – you have
always been the antisocial type…” – Albert stated, quite flatly, his back straightening – “…always alone and away from others. No doubt, there is probably no joy for you here, when there’s no one to talk to or hang out with” – only to lean back in again, much further now – the maneuver swift enough to startle Luke, their eyes meeting – “You did come alone, didn’t you?” – A knowing sneer coming into play, revealing a neat, white set of teeth. Probably cost him a fortune at the dentist, those money-grubbing sadists.
Instead of replying, Luke simply turned away and took another sip of beer, nothing coming to mind that might be used as a counter-attack. He may have not come alone to the party, but he most certainly was alone in it. That did sting a little, while at the same time, providing fuel for self-pity - the supplies growing plentiful as he watched Albert walk off with both ladies in tow, laughing and no doubt boasting about something irrelevant. Like pummeling a man already down. Perhaps a strategic retreat and repositioning was in order, simply to avoid further embarrassments and uncomfortable situations. With a casual glance-around, a perfect position came in sight – the open-sided second floor of the club, mostly deserted and with a perfect view down towards the dance-floor for a creep like him to stalk at.
With beer in hand and no further unplanned-for encounters, Luke sat down at the very edge of the second floor, eyes taking in the barely lighted surroundings, a sip of beer inserted in the activity, only to eventually gaze down upon the crowd of people below. Twisting and turning, scraping and fidgeting about like one big system, a single organism that never stopped moving – an apt metaphor, considering there was barely any room in between each participant. Everyone busy bumping and rubbing against each other. All concepts of personal space forgotten, pushed aside, drowned in alcohol and loud music.
