12 Rounds (22 page)

Lara stops moving and positions herself in front of the mirror next to me. She reaches for her tube of mascara and smathers it on her already long lashes. “Intense isn’t the word. Insane is more like it. I can’t believe he knocked that guy out in the first round.”

“I can,” I mention. “The guy has a temper.”

“Still.” Lara puts down the tube of mascara and picks up her nude colored lipstick. “Did you see the look on Mullins face?” Lara shakes her head. “They guy looked like he was about to shit his diaper.” I howl with laughter, shaking so hard that I accidentally burn myself with the curling iron. Go figure. I’ve always been clumsy. “You know I invited him tonight.”

“What?” My eyes widen and I let go of the curling iron, dropping it on the counter.

“You’re not mad are you?” Lara eyes me apprehensively through the mirror. “I mean he most like won’t come. He’s probably still in Atlantic City partying it up because of his victory.”

“Oh.” That depresses me. Part of me thought it would be amazing to be able to celebrate my birthday and his victory together. I go and say, “I’m not mad you invited him. I just wish you would have said something sooner.” It’s always been like Lara to spring things on me at the last minute. I usually don’t mind because I’m a go with the flow kind of person, but with Sean being involved it’s different. I feel like every time I see him my attraction to him enhances and my connection to him deepens. “Plus I thought you hated him.”

I notice that she rolls her eyes into the mirror. “I don’t hate him,” she professes. “I just thought he hurt you and you know how protective I am over you.”

“Well thank you,” I say. “For inviting Sean and for always worrying about me. But I think you can ease up on the worrying. I’m moving forward in a good way.”

She smiles at me through the mirror. “That’s good to know.”

“I will admit I’m a little bummed out that he can’t make it.”

“Don’t be bummed,” she says with a frown. “He did mention that he’d try to make it so there’s always a chance he might show.”

“I doubt it. He’d probably have to rush and if I just won my title fight I wouldn’t want to rush home and see some girl I know just because it’s her birthday.”

Lara shrugs and flashes me a quirky grin as she runs the flat iron through her hair one last time. “You never know.”

~ ~ ~

The line for C’est La Vie wraps around the side of the building and stretches at least a mile down the sidewalk. Lara invited her friend Phoebe from work to come out with us too, and the three of us stand across the street from the wide red brick rectangular building with the cursive metal sign hanging over top of it. Phoebe’s  red brown shoulder length bob swishes as she scans the line a second time. “To hell with this. Let’s go somewhere else.” There’s a serious expression in her amber eyes.

Lara flashes us a mischevious smile and says, “Follow my lead.”

“Lara!” I hiss as she quickens her pace, walking to the front of the line. “Lara!” My eyes sweep over the line again and I see a few people casting angry glances in our direction. It’s not that I want to be a party pooper, especially on my birthday, but I’d much rather go somewhere else than piss off a line of people that stretches on for half a mile.

When we arrive at the front of the line, Lara positions herself in front of the tall, muscular, and bald bouncer with a clipboard. Her hands are on her waist and I notice her rolling her fingers, waiting for him to make eye contact. He never takes his eyes off the clipboard and utters in a low drawl, “Back of the line.”

Lara throws her shoulders back, pushing out her chest and shakes her hair. I know her. I know what she’s doing. She’s going to try and flirt with this guy to get us in. I’ve seen it work sometimes. In school. When she’s at her job. Sometimes all she has to do is bat her eyelashes and guys bend to her every whim. Then she’ll say with a laugh, “Sometimes it’s great being a female. Too many men think with the wrong head.”

Most of the time I laugh at the comment.

Now is not one of those times.

“We’re on the VIP list,” Lara insists and I grip her elbow, tugging her back, but she just shrugs me off.

“Name,” is all the bouncer says.

Lara peeks over her shoulder glancing at Phoebe who just shrugs then her eyes narrow on me. “Hadlee Flax,” she says her eyes still boring into mine.

I almost start to panic. But I don’t because then the bouncer says, “How many are in your party?”

Wait…What?

“Six,” Lara tells him.

With that, the bouncer tucks the clipboard under his arm and lifts the red velvet rope as cries of protest erupt from the people in line. I face the line of people and give them an apologetic wave. Not that it’s going to help any. I know the people in line are probably going to be pissed regardless, but it makes me feel better, knowing that I tried to offer some sort of apology.  Then I follow Lara and Phoebe to the front doors. 

The bouncer nods at me as I brush past him and says, “Happy birthday.”

How does he know it’s my birthday?

He didn’t even card me.

I give him an odd look for a second then yell, “Thanks,” from over my shoulder as I follow Phoebe and Lara into the club.

The inside of C’est La Vie is mind-blowing.

Epic.

Like a time warp.

I tune Lara out as she rambles on about sending everyone else who was invited a text and admire the décor of the club. All of the walls are vibrant reds, purples, and oranges. The bar has ornate, antique looking stools that are trimmed in gold. There are two stories of private balconies with red crushed velvet curtains and I see people hanging out on the upper ones, laughing with wine glasses in their hands.

The waitresses working the dance floor are decked out in multi colored corsets, with fluffy can can skirts. A few of them have jeweled masks on. A few others wear feathers tucked in between their coifs of curls. My eyes shift to the dance floor and right in the middle is a glittering gold recreation of the Eiffel Tower.

I feel like I’m on the film set of
Moulin Rouge
. One of my all-time favorite movies. I’m blown away by everything. Not only the décor, but the loud vibrating music. Couples laughing and having a great time on the dance floor. The flashing lights.

The whole atmosphere is other-wordly.

It takes Lara’s arm around my left wrist, tugging me in the opposite direction,  for me to snap out of my trance-like state. I stumble behind her in the direction of the first set of velvet curtains on the left.

A soft breeze tousles my hair, blowing it out of my face,  and when I look up I see there are people on swings suspended from the ceiling, gliding back and forth in a seductive yet graceful way. That sight tops it for me. I can feel it in my bones that this is going to be one of the best birthday’s ever.

There’s a sign next to the curtains of the first VIP room with my name in gold lettering. Lara and Phoebe’s eyes are on me and Lara gives me a slight nudge, urging me to push back the curtains and step inside. I do and when I step into the room I feel like I’ve been blown away a second time. My mouth drops open. My eyes widen. I forget to breathe.

The floors are tiled like a checkerboard and the walls are deep crimson, the edges trimmed in gold. On each side of the room are two couches with red, crushed velvet coverings and suspended from the ceiling is a crystal chandelier. I watch the light play with the tiny gem-like pieces and my eyes drift downward as they dance along the walls. There’s a black rounded table in the center with bottles of champagne and there’s a flat screen mounted on the wall in the back of the room. I’m baffled. And awed. I’m not even paying attention to Lara’s and Phoebe’s reactions, but I have to know. I have to know how this was possible. How Lara pulled this off. “Lara, how did you do this?”

She steps in front of me, handing me a glass of champagne and look at me, puzzled. “What do you mean, Lee?”

I look at Phoebe who is trailing her fingers along the walls then glance back at Lara. “I mean reserving a room like this must have cost a fortune. I mean I know you wanted to make my birthday special, but this is too much.” I’d never be able to afford to pull something off like this for her birthday. I start to feel bad because there’s no way I can repay her.

“I didn’t do this.” Her face is serious. “If you couldn’t tell I was totally trying to wing it at the door. Hell, I wasn’t even sure we’d be able to get in.”

“What?” I almost need her to repeat herself because I feel like she’s talking jibberish. “If you didn’t do this than who did?”

Her eyes go wide and she shrugs. “Beats the hell out of me, but hey, I vote for us not speculating  on who did this and just enjoy ourselves.”

“Holy shit!” The squeak in Phoebe’s voice causes us to turn in her direction. She holds up a bottle of champagne. “This is friggin Cristal! Cristal for Christ sake! Do you know how much this costs?”

Lara faces me with a wide grin and she grips my shoulder. “Lee, honey, I don’t know who did this, but it seems to me that whoever did wanted you to have a good time. So, if I were you I’d get started on that.”

After everyone arrives Lara pours everyone a glass of champagne and we all toast to my birthday. I’ve had about three glasses too many and I’m already starting to feel a little buzzed.

“We gonna dance, Lee!” Lara nods toward the curtain. “Come with!”

At first I tell her I’m not ready yet. I need a few more glasses of champagne before my inhibitions are lowered that much, but then I see Ryan pushing his way through Lara and Ted. I know he’s going to ask me to dance. And at first I think about declining. But then I figure, what the hell? It’s my birthday and a little dancing is harmless. When he reaches me, he extends his hand and bows in a joking manner, “My lady, may I have the honor of this dance?”

I laugh and chug the glass of champagne in my hand before accepting. I curtsy just to play along and set the glass down. “You may.”

Then, Ryan takes me by the hand and guides me through the crushed velvet curtains and out onto the dance floor .

Hand in hand, we weave through the thick mass of couples and I spot Lara and Ted out of the corner of my eye. Lara winks at me, gives me a little wave then resumes dancing. She seems happy. She seems like she’s having a great time and that brings a smile to my lips.

Ryan slips behind me and the song changes. An up tempo pop song blasts through all the speakers, filling  the club with an electric vibe. I watch the couple next to me as the woman gyrates up against her partner. Ryan seems to be a natural dancer. He moves behind me, in a smooth yet graceful manner while I’m watching my feet the entire time, making sure I don’t step in the wrong direction or stomp on his feet.

I’m not a good dancer. Most of the time, when I’ve had a little too much to drink,  I convince myself that I am and get on the dance floor  anyway. I mean, when you’ve lost the ability to distinguish your left foot from your right foot, who the hell cares what your dancing looks like to everyone else.

The song changes again and slows down. Ryan twirls me around to face him. I laugh, feeling like a ballerina on stage during a recital as his long lanky arms wrap around my waist. We sway back and forth, keeping up with the couples on the dance floor and I peek over my shoulder at Lara again. Her head is rested in the crook of Ted’s neck, and her eyes are closed, but she’s smiling. So wrapped up in his arms. His moves. His essence. And the sight of it makes my insides warm.

I can feel Ryan leaning closer to me and when I whip my head back it almost connects with his. “Sorry,” I breathe. Now I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. His hands dip below my hips and are almost touching my butt.

Shifting uncomfortably beneath his grasp, I make a mental note to bow out of the next dance with him.

This is what bothers me the most about Ryan. He just doesn’t get that I’m not into him like that. I’ve tried to tell him that I prefer that we just be friends. On several occasions. He’s usually fine for a while, but then he slips right back into his old behavior.

Like he is right now.

When the song ends, I start to pull away. I face him, opening my mouth to tell him I’d like to go back to the VIP room, but he tightens his grip around my wrist. “Just one more,” he pleads.

I yank on my hand, but he doesn’t let up. “Ryan, I’d really like you to let go of me.”

He still won’t let go.

Panic starts to surge through me and I try to spot Lara in the crowd again, but she’s hidden behind a cluster of couples. My heart beats heavy. My breaths get clogged in my throat. I tug on my wrist with more force and shout, “Ryan, let me go!”

“You’re just being difficult,” he says in a calm voice. “Stop making a scene. All I’m asking for is one more dance.”

“And all I’m asking you for is to let fucking go of me!”

Suddenly I’m jolted forward as Ryan releases my wrist, stumbles backwards, and sails across the dance floor  on his ass.

Someone body checked him.

Hard.

Then I hear a guy shout over the music. “Hands off, asshole!”

I turn my head slowly, glancing over my shoulder.

And it’s him.

He’s here.

Sean.

His pools of bluish green are hot and blazing and full of anger until he lowers his gaze upon me. All the anger vanishes from his eyes and he takes my hands in his with a radiant smile and says, “Happy Birthday, Hadlee.”

I smile up at him, telling myself, screaming in my head that him showing up here is the best birthday gift I’ve ever received. “You’re here,” I gasp, still baffled. “I can’t believe you’re here.” I didn’t expect him to show. I swear I didn’t. Even though when Lara mentioned it, I felt giddy inside. I wanted him here so badly. But I figured celebrating his victory would be far more important.

“Are you kidding me?” He chuckles and touches his chin with his thumb and forefinger, a haze of want in his eyes. “I was not going to miss this.” He extends his arm to me. “What do you say birthday, girl?” He nods toward the exit. “How about we get out of here?”

I beam at him and lace my arm through his. “That sounds like a great idea.”