by Casey Lane
I got myself back together the best I could, complete with emergency make-up fix to my injured eye, and head from the bathroom down to the main club in search of the terrible threesome. I stop at the bottom of the stairs, taking it all in. It is huge. The red lighting cuts through the darkness giving the club a mysterious atmosphere. Along the walls, booths, encased by sheer, deep red curtains, give the patrons the illusion of privacy. At the far end, the D.J. is spinning records, on an elevated stage, overlooking the mob of dancing people. Floating from the center of the ceiling and running the entire length of the bar, is a huge neon sign that slowly transitions through red, orange, yellow, and white giving life to the club’s moniker, Inferno. How in the hell am I going to find anyone in this crowd. Lex, just remain calm and try not to look like a lunatic. You can do this. They’re here… somewhere. I gather what is left of my pride, and with all of the Makayla inspired gumption I can muster, I push through the mass of bodies and elbow my way to the bar. I am in definite need of some liquid courage.
After what seems like an eternity, I finally catch the bartender’s attention, “Bud Light, please.”
“Would you like an iced mug with that?”
“Just the bottle please.” Who in their right mind would carry a glass full of liquid around with all these people? That is just a disaster waiting to happen.
“Sure thing sweetheart.”
I feel a hand leisurely skim across the back of my bared shoulders. Slowly I turn, my seductress alter ego locked, loaded and ready to spin her web. I tilt my head slightly to the right and twirl a piece of my hair around my finger. That’s right, come to momma.
“Haven’t seen you here before,” says a deep sexy voice in my ear.
“First time,” I admit coyly.
“Would you care to join me at my place or should I just follow you home?” he says as his finger trails a scorching hot trail down my cheek and across my lower lip.
“Whichever you prefer,” I purr my response leaning into him. I run my hand up his broad chest while gently letting my teeth scrape across his earlobe, enjoying the slight shiver I’ve caused him.
“Baby, you’re just what I’ve been waiting for,” he gruffly says as he pulls my body flush with his. He leans forward with smoldering eyes focused on my mouth, and I cannot help but to lick my lips in anticipation for the mind-blowing kiss that has to follow.
I’m jostled again which effectively brings me out of my fantasy stupor, and I realize I’m staring, open mouthed, at the most beautiful man I have ever seen. He’s tall, like six-one, six-two tall. Black, slightly wavy hair that is begging me to run my fingers through it, chiseled, stubble covered jaw, full lips that make me immediately want to lick them and pull them between my teeth. He is dressed in all black; from his button down shirt (top two buttons undone, swoon) all the way to the tips of his black, shiny shoes. I am gazing longingly into the bluest eyes I have ever seen, and that is when I notice his smirk. He totally caught me ogling him, and I’m pretty sure he knows my lady bits are not thinking about stranger danger at this very moment. Oh sweet Jesus, his smirk is now a full on tractor beam sex smile. I am done. Do me now. No seriously, do me now, right here on the club floor. He is so hot; I don’t even care if people watch.
“What the hell Lex, you were supposed to meet us under the DJ! Are you paying attention to me?” Makayla yelled, snapping her fingers in my face. “What are you gaping…oooohhhhh. Mmmmmm.” Makayla went into full-blown vixen mode upon noticing the eye candy I could not stop myself from drooling over.
“You can say that again,” Bella breathed while both girls looked Mr. Hottie McHot Pants up and down.
“Mr., Pulleeesssse tell me you are on the market and tip toeing through the tulips toward me. Hot damn, you are one fine specimen!” Jack squealed in delight, clapping his hands together.
Mr. Hottie McHot Pants’ eyes crinkle as he takes in our little misfit group, and while I’m pretty sure my face is a red flaming inferno of embarrassment, he is trying desperately not to laugh and failing miserably.
“Meet Arabella, aka Bella, DeLuca and Makayla, aka Pain. In. My. Ass., Stewart,” Jack states matter-of-factly while oddly resembling a hitchhiker as he uses his thumb to point to the girls. Pushing me forward into the line of fire, he continues, “this beauty that you’ve semi (and I kid you not, Jack looked pointedly at Mr. Hottie McHot Pants’ crotch on the word semi) met is Alexis Elizabeth Reed. Twenty-six years old, Master’s Degree in Advertising, Junior Associate at Bridgestone Marketing, aka call her anything you want as long as you call her, and then she gives me a call with all of the juicy details.” Extending his hand, Jack finished his rant, “and I’m Jackson Bouchard, but everyone calls me Jack.” Mr. Hottie McHot Pants is full on laughing now. He has a great laugh, sigh…
“Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m…”
“Baaabe, what’s taking so looonnngg? I was getting lonely without you.”
“Skank alert,” Bella not so quietly sang at the same time as Makayla bellowed “bleached, blonde bimbo heading our way.”
“What did you call me?” Bimbo asked, eyes narrowing into evil little slits.
Being ever so helpful, Jack pointed first to Makayla and then to Bella, “Well, she called you bleach, blonde bimbo, and that one called you a skank. And girly, not to be mean or anything, but did you even look in the mirror before you left the house? I mean what would your momma say. Tsk.”
“Please tell me this was a blind date,” Jack asked beseechingly of Mr. Hottie McHot Pants.
I cannot believe this. I am standing here in front of the hottest guy I have ever seen in my life, and my three best friends are in a pissing match with his date. In their defense, she does look prostitutish. I was giving this chick a once over and thinking… white blonde, over-processed hair that looks like cotton candy from the county fair? Check. Orange perma-tan? Check. Make-up applied using the Bozo the Clown method? Check. Hot pink, tube top masquerading as a dress? Check. If she does not stand perfectly still, we are all seeing that beaver trap.
“True story,” Bella agreed.
I turned to Bella, “please tell me I did not just say that out loud.”
The bimbo turned to Mr. Hottie McHot Pants and demanded, “Are you just going to stand there and let them talk to me that way?”
“Yep,” was his unruffled reply.
Wincing just a little, I turned to the blonde bimbo, “I really didn’t mean to say that out loud. Sometimes my mouth just works a little faster than my filter, and you’ve given my brain a lot to filter.”
With what I assume was intended to be a warrior’s cry, Blondie, with her fingertip daggers, launched herself at me, and I found myself flat on my back for the second time that night. Thankfully, my skirt only rode up a little and did not expose any naughty bits. The girls stayed firmly in place, probably holding on for dear life. Bimbo Barbie did not fare as well. Her tube top, I mean dress, gave up the good fight, and rolled, from both the top and bottom, to form a hot pink, cloth belt around her waist. Unfortunately, for us, she was now exposing her tactfully placed pasties and barely there thong. Someone was pulling her off me, and all the while, she was kicking and screeching like a cat in heat. Jack hauled me up from the floor while Makayla, hands cupped to her mouth, shouted. “You left part of your nasty ass weave over here on the floor!”
Chapter Three
Group Message
Jack – yo peeps! What tha dilly yo?
Bella – chillin at da crib. Last nite was slammin
Jack – dat beotch was whack
Bella – dat try-fo-lin ho was like shorty better gets all up outta my grill or we gonna have us serious beef
Jack – dat hood rat was jello cuz we was lookin phat. She be needin schooled
Bella – maaannnn, we had to jet b4 the po po showed
Jack – off the hinges dat was
Makayla – will you two idiots knock it off! I’m trying to sleep and these damn notifications are driving me nuts
Jack – be easy gurl, be easy
Bella – what’s the 411? I need me sum fresh kicks
Jack – imma bouts to be rollin out, want me to stop by ur hood
Makayla – we live in the suburbs, 2 blocks from each other asshats. Get off Urban Dictionary
Jack – m’s be trippin. Where’s r boo Lex?
Bella – self-imposed shamecation… smdh
********************
It’s Monday morning, and I am freaking out. I have my first solo client. That’s why I spent all day Sunday reading the miniscule dossier on a new restaurant marketing campaign that was assigned to me. When I say miniscule dossier, I really mean a folder with one sheet of paper that Kathleen, my boss, had hand written:
Restaurant – Sebastian Graham
Monday morning 10:30 – 125 Pike Street
Do not be late & dress to impress!
Ok, I admit, I mostly napped on Sunday. Can you blame me after the epic fail of a night I had. Making a complete fool of myself, by getting into a catfight with that rent-a-ho, could not have made a worse impression on my dream man. Oh well, it’s not like I’m ever going to see him again. I mean, I didn’t even get his name.
I am dressed in a knee length, dark forest green pencil skirt, long sleeve, black fitted blouse with a little flare at the hem and cuffs, black pumps, medium sized hoop earrings, and a long necklace consisting of varying lengths of silver chains. I didn’t do too bad picking this out all on my own, I think to myself. I double check my bag to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything and then I’m off.
I pull up and parallel park across the street from the address on the note. I’m early so I take that time to organize my thoughts and practice my deep breathing. I am so nervous that I am going to screw this up, but Kathleen has faith in me. She keeps insisting that I am ready to fly out from under her wing, and this is my opportunity. Kathleen is an awesome boss. She is the head of the Community Advertising Division. We concentrate on local businesses in the tri-state area and leave the national marketing to the much larger Corporate Accounts Division. I am perfectly content in my little niche, and I have no desire to enter that cutthroat atmosphere. Plus, us little guys have more creative freedom and less red tape to hack through. Oh, and weekends off. I like my weekends off. I take one last look in the review for a lipstick check, and it is go time.
I push through the unlocked door and take a moment to look around. First thoughts, this place is freaking cool. The walls and ceiling are painted charcoal gray, and the slate floor is just a shade darker than the walls. Black tables are scattered about in a deliberately jumbled formation. Some with bench, booth style seating, others with high, straight back chairs, but all are in varying shades of red. A bar ran along the back wall with the same black granite top as the tables. Red leather bar stools were scattered about haphazardly, probably moved out of the way by the work crew who is installing shelves on the back wall. Soft lighting adds to the intimate atmosphere. It reminds me a lot of Inferno…minus the blonde bimbo. I can’t help but to smirk to myself on that thought.
“Can I help you?” said a male voice from…somewhere. I turned slowly in a circle looking for the source of the voice. No such luck.
“Um, my name is Alexis Reed. I’m from Bridgestone Marketing. I, um, have a 10:30 appointment with Mr. Graham.” I felt really stupid talking to a disembodied voice.
“Oh yeah, forgot about that. Sorry,” said the voice. “Be right there.”
I didn’t wait long before a door, I hadn’t noticed in my earlier perusal, opened and out walked who I assumed was Mr. Graham. He looked to be about five-nine, broad shoulders with sandy brown hair a little on the shaggy side. He had on loose fitting jeans and a long sleeve, green tee advertising an Irish pub. Definite eye candy. As he made his way to me, hand extended in greeting, he introduced himself.
“Hi there, I’m Sebastian Graham, co-owner of this dump. My business partner will be a little late. He’s running some kind of interference at the club, but he’ll be along shortly. In the mean time, we can go ahead and get started.”
We sat down at one of the booths, and I pulled out my tablet to take down some notes as we talked. Handing him my business card, I said, “first, tell me what type of restaurant you’re opening. What kind of food and atmosphere will you have? Will there be music? That kind of stuff.”
“Well, this place isn’t really going to be a restaurant. Not in the traditional sense anyway. Our menu will consist of some appetizers but no entrees. We don’t really want this to be a date night place, more like people coming together to mingle. There will be a fully stocked bar. We want it to be an extension of Inferno, but the music will be softer. We’re envisioning a place where people can relax after a long day at work, get to know other people with similar goals that understand the meaning of responsibility. Our vision is for this place to be more sophisticated than a normal club. We want it low key enough that patrons won’t feel as if they’re on display. Kind of like a never ending cocktail party.”
Holy Shit. This guy owns Inferno. Please don’t let him have heard about the almost brawl with the bimbo. Please, please, please, pleeaasse.
“So the demographic you’re after is more sophisticated, early thirties to late forties. Stable jobs and bank accounts, past the partying all night, every night stage of their lives. But you want to stick with a mysterious, sexy vibe. A mini club without the chaos. Is that about right?”
“Exactly,” he said with a charming smile.
“I can work with that,” I smiled back.
Sebastian and I spent the next thirty minutes discussing what he liked and disliked about other marketing campaigns he had seen. They haven’t decided on a name yet, but know that they want it to be something that links this place to Inferno. I wondered through the space, and I took some photos to use as reference during my creative process. We chit chatted a bit, all the while my mind was racing a million miles a minute. Most ideas were discarded as soon as the thought struck me, but there were a few that I filed away as possibilities. That’s when it hit me.
“Sebastian, what comes to mind when you think about Inferno?”
“I don’t know. It’s a club. Dancing, drinking, having a good time.”
“When I think about Inferno, I picture a younger crowd that is full of passion, quick to erupt into a frenzy, but they also fizzle just as rapidly. They are a group that lacks the experience to maintain intense heat for any length of time. What you’re creating here is more of a slow, steady burn. The populations you are targeting are accomplished. They are mature enough to know that playing the slow game can lead to the greatest reward. The name of this place needs to reflect intense passion, but it also needs to be subtle. What do you think about Ardor?”
Sebastian mulled that around for a few minutes before giving me a cheeky grin. “I think you might just be worth the money we’re paying you.”
The front door opened and a vaguely familiar sounding voice said, “Hey, sorry I’m late.”
As Sebastian and I turned toward the new comer, he began introductions, “this is my business partner, Ethan Storm. E, this is…”
“Alexis Elizabeth Reed, twenty-six years old, Master’s Degree in Advertising, Junior Associate at Bridgestone Marketing. How’s your buddy Jack doing?” Ethan chuckled.
Turning back towards me, Sebastian looked at me appreciatively before he burst out laughing. “So, you’re that girl. Damn, I wish I could have seen the little disagreement you had Saturday night. I always miss the good stuff.”
I stood there staring between the two men with a look of horror on my face. My typical fucking luck, I thought before I sent up a silent prayer for the floor to miraculously open and swallow me, saving me from the latest fiasco that is my life.
********************
Group Message
Lex – my life sucks!
Makayla – you’ll get laid again one day. It may be years from now, but it’ll happen. Maybe you should put it on your b
ucket list
Lex – thanks M. Your such a good friend (insert sarcasm)
Jack – Tell auntie J all your probs Lexi Loo
Lex – Kathleen gave me my own account today. Kick ass mini club
Bella – that’s great! Congrats!
Lex – not sure that I’ll get to keep it
Jack – why not
Lex – the co-owner is Mr. Hottie McHot Pants
Bella – Holy shit. He remember you
Lex – Yeah, he quoted back J’s rambled intro. BTW, he said hi Jack
Jack – Sweet baby Jesus, he remembered my name (fanning self dramatically)
Makayla – does Mr. Hottie have a name
Lex – Ethan Storm. His business partner is Sebastian Graham. Oh, and they also own Inferno
Bella – You personally know the owners of the hottest club in town! Can you get us, like, VIP status or something
Lex – They’re clients, not my new buddies. This is business. Asking for favors would be unethical
Bella – who cares about ethics
Lex – I’m not getting you VIP passes
Bella – Please…(batting eyelashes and giving you puppy dog eyes)
Lex – I said no
Bella – (pout)
Jack – is the partner cute and which way does he swing
Lex – definite eye candy and surprisingly the topic of his sexual orientation did not come up during our business meeting. Must have left it off the questionnaire
