I shake my head, unable to fight the smile crawling across my face. Six little words. It’s Gabby’s catch phrase. I’ve lost track of how many times she’s said it to me since a computer randomly assigned us to be roommates in our university dorm a few weeks ago.

“We’re not going to get away with it,” I say without glancing up from my English textbook.

Gabby sticks her head out of the closet and rolls her eyes. “That’s not the point!”

“Can’t we just go see a movie?” I ask.

“We can go see a movie
next
weekend,” she says. “
Tonight,
I want to do
this
.”

I sigh and close the textbook. “Fine,” I mutter.

She smiles wide at me and resumes ruffling through our shared closet, picking and choosing between various articles of clothing. “I say we go with these,” she says as she turns towards me. In each hand, she holds up two little black dresses by the hangers. “They’ll make us look older. Your choice. Which one do you want?”

I slide off my bed and walk over. My eyes bounce from one dress to the next, finding the little difference between the two. One is strapless, the other features long sleeves. “I’ll go with this one,” I say as I take the sleeved one on the right, recalling that the forecast predicts a cold front on the horizon.

Gabby shakes her head twice. “So predictable.”

“Hey, if you want it, you can have it,” I say.

“No,” she says. “I got the one I wanted. This one shows more skin.”

I chuckle. “Now who’s predictable?”

She puckers her lips and kisses the air at me.

We wait until an hour after sundown to leave the dorm, giving us plenty of time to tweak our appearances to perfection. Gabby herself spends over an hour on her hair alone, curling her short, red locks into symmetrical ringlets around her head. There’s little I know to do with my long, brown hair, so I iron it straight and let it hang down just passed my breasts and focus on livening up my other features with the help of Gabby’s extensive collection of make-up.

Once Gabby approves of my look — a task she always insists on, even on casual trips across the street to the dining hall — we set out together into the autumn night to find a taxi cab.

“Where to, ladies?”

Gabby grins. “Downtown,” she says proudly.

The driver turns around in his seat. His eyes fall on us, scanning our bodies up and down until a chuckle heaves off his lips. “Whatever you say, ladies,” he croaks out of the corner of his mouth.

“Erin told me to focus on the smaller clubs,” Gabby whispers at me once the cab starts moving. “The bouncers are usually younger, inexperienced, and more susceptible to
persuasion
.” She briefly cups her breasts at the last word, pushing them upward to accentuate her sizable cleavage.

“Isn’t Erin dating a drug dealer?”

“So?” She furrows her brow at me. “Who cares? She does this like every other weekend. She knows what she’s talking about.”

“As long as we don’t get into any trouble…” I mutter.

“Alice, these are the years when we’re
supposed
to get into trouble,” she argues. “We’re eighteen years old. We are
invincible.
Nothing can stop us. The world is our oyster. We are woman. Hear us roar.”

“Calm down,” I laugh.

“Well, it’s true.” She sits back in her seat and snaps open her clutch to retrieve her phone.

We ride the remaining way in silence. Every mile we travel increases my heart rate, making me more and more nervous about what’s to come. Gabby is probably right. We’re eighteen years old. The crimes we commit at this age act only as feathers in our cap, a series of cautionary tales we’ll speak of only to our curious grandchildren when their parents aren’t listening.

Back in my day, it was easy to flirt our way into twenty-one and older clubs. I just flashed my pearly whites, squeezed my tits together, and men fell at my feet!

Unfortunately, my grandchildren will be sadly disappointed when I tell them about this.

“No way.” The bouncer crosses his thick arms about his chest. His black shirt stretches tight as he flexes his muscles to illustrate his dominance over us.

Gabby scoffs. “Oh, come on!” she whines. “I’ll give you my number.”

“Beat it.” He stands firms, blocking the entryway.

“Let’s go, Gabby,” I say as I lay a hand on her arm.

She sighs. “Fine.”

We continue walking down the street. Gabby’s heels click the pavement harder than mine. “This is such bullshit!” she growls. “Five clubs and not one of them will let us in.”

“Well, can you blame them?” I ask. “You still have baby fat in your cheeks.”

“This isn’t funny, Alice,” she seethes as she jerks her face in my direction. “God, this is so humiliating! And I’m
freaking freezing
!” She wraps her bare arms around her chest and I feel vindicated in taking the dress with sleeves.

I shrug my shoulders. “There are plenty of places we can get into,” I point out. “And it’s only ten.”

“I don’t want
to go to one of
those
places. I want to go to one of
these
places.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

She pauses and takes a deep breath. Her toe taps lightly against the sidewalk while she chews her bottom lip in concentration. I can see the wheel spinning inside her head, a look I’ve become all too familiar with as she concocts her rebellious schemes.

And just as suddenly as it began, her eyebrow flicks up like a light switch.

“I know…” she mutters.

She keeps me waiting as her eyes scan the street around us.

“What?” I ask, the suspense tickling my toes.

“I think we’ve been thinking a little too
inside
the box on this one,” she muses. “Bars and clubs aren’t the only places to go when you want to party.”

“Okay…” I say, “and…?”

She bobs her head, gesturing upward with her eyes. I follow her gaze and crane my neck as my eyes travel higher and higher, stopping only when they reach the top of the skyscraper. I read the name silently to myself: Botsford Plaza.

“A hotel?” I ask.

Her smile splits from ear-to-ear. “My cousin used to tell me about all the
crazy shit
she used to do at fancy hotels like this one.”

“Like… order room service at three in the morning?”

She rolls her eyes. “Follow me,” she says as she wraps her arm around mine, locking us together as she struts towards the entrance.

The doorman stares at us with a raised nose, but eventually grips the door handle and lets us through without uttering a single word. It’s the first victory of the night and a surge of adrenaline courses through me.

“Oh, my…” Gabby moans as our eyes study our new and exquisite surroundings.

The hotel lobby shines with walls plated with gold trim and sleek, black leather furniture arranged purposefully about the room. The elevators glow as golden boxes in each corner. The staff don elegant black suits and dresses, embroidered with a shade of gold along every seam. Luxury is the word and it’s not a word I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing in my brief lifetime.

I glance at Gabby. Her mouth sits open in awe while her brown eyes reflect specks of gold. I wonder whether or not I appear just as silly.

“Looks like they’re having a party,” Gabby says as she points a finger. I stare straight ahead. Just after the reception desk, far away from the groups of people in cocktail gowns and tuxedos drinking champagne, lies a large set of black doors at the far side of the lobby.

Three doormen stand guard in front of them with perfect posture. The man in the center carries a golden clipboard. All of them scan the crowd, frowning, no doubt taking their jobs very, very seriously.

“Let’s go!” Gabby whispers at me as she pulls me through the lobby.

My heart races more and more with each step. There’s no way we’ll get through those doors, but I don’t have the heart to crush her dreams. It will be the same story as before. And yet, this time, as the black doors travel closer to me, and the eyes of those passing by flick in our direction, a keen sense of dread grows inside of me.

We’re not welcome here.

“I’m sorry, ladies,” the man with the clipboard says. He holds up his hand to stop us in our tracks before we even make it to the doors. He’s much shorter than the other men, who were obviously hired as muscle to stop exactly what Gabby and I are attempting to do. “It’s a private party. Please return to the main lobby.”

Gabby licks her lips and sticks her chest out. “Well, I’m sure there’s been some kind of mistake. We were invited.”

“By whom?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

My eyes bounce between him and the two other men. They’re all twitchy, as if we are the first bit of action they’d had all night. Their fingers dance against their thighs, just hoping for us to cause a scene so they can bounce us out onto the street.

“Wow, you have
no idea
who we are, do you?” Gabby raises her little voice, drawing the eyes of those around us. “This is
ridiculous
. I have
never
been treated this badly here before!”

I dig my nails into her arm as I watch the guards crack their knuckles. The celebrity routine didn’t work at the last two places she tried it and it certainly isn’t working now.

“Please,” the man sighs. “Turn around and exit the building now, or I will have you removed.” His voice is stiff like he’s rehearsed the line in front of the mirror countless times. But it’s no joke to him. His eyes show every bit of his intent to cast us out.

“There you two are!”

A new voice carries above the dull hum of the lobby. It scratches down my back, sending deep shivers across my skin. A hand falls onto my shoulder. I look up to find out who it is.

He’s older than us by a decade, possibly two. And handsome.
Extremely
handsome, with features I’ve only ever seen before on statues carved out in Ancient Greece. Black hair. Forest green eyes. A sleek, black suit. His eyes bounce from Gabby’s face, then over to mine. “I’ve been looking
everywhere
for you two!” He flashes me a subtle wink that shoots a sudden tremor through my knees. “You’re missing the party!”

“You know these girls, sir?” He asks it with a ludicrous tone as if he already knows the answer.

BOOK: Blind Girl: A Dark Billionaire Romance

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