We walked quickly, heading toward the water. I wrinkled my nose at the stench of fish and sewage. Trash and unimaginably gross stuff littered the ground, and I tried to suppress the vomit rising in the back of my throat.
“Hear that?” Brooks asked, breaking the eerie silence.
“Hear what?” I muttered around the clattering of my teeth. Jeesh, I was freezing.
Brooks cupped his hand around his ear and then grabbed my hand, pulling me down the street. “I can hear music. It’s this way,” he said, clearly more excited by this twisted game of hide-and-seek than I was.
“There it is,” Brooks called out, yanking on my arm. Bass so loud it shook my insides served as our guide. Following the music, we crossed the street to join a line that curled around the side of an old warehouse. Compulsion was obviously the place to be on a weekend.
“You know, this club is a total legend. It’s been around since the nineties and changes locations every week. I’ve talked to a few people who have been here, but never had the balls to come myself. But I’ve always wanted to,” Brooks said low enough not to be overheard by the people around us.
Everything I knew about the underground club scene came from watching the news and the occasional crappy reality TV show. And it had all seemed so sensationalized, from drug deals, to users ODing in the bathrooms, to people getting beaten up outside. As out-there as the stories sounded, I knew this stuff really happened. I wasn’t stupid or ignorant, by any means. I was more than aware of life’s dark and scary underbelly. But I was not the type of person to search for it. I didn’t get some sick sort of adrenaline jolt from living life on the edge.
Give me a cup of chai tea and some new episodes of The Vampire Diaries and I was a happy gal.
But as we waited, I strangely found myself understanding the appeal of it. It was hard to deny the intoxicating feel of anticipation in the air as Brooks and I waited in line to be admitted inside. Everyone was hopped up on some bizarre energy as though we were waiting to be led into paradise. Or purgatory.
I scoped out the people ahead of us in the line: a group of girls who couldn’t be any older than sixteen. Even I knew you had to be eighteen to get in, but this group looked way too young to be here. They were giggling and bouncing on their feet. One girl helped her friend apply a thick coat of black lipstick while the other girls adjusted their gothed-out clothes.
Something about them reminded me of Jayme. My little sister had always been the first to jump headfirst into a situation she shouldn’t be in. These girls weren’t much older than Jayme had been.
Shaking my head, I snapped myself out of that particular train of thought and looked over at Brooks standing beside me. He seemed to be feeding on the high of the crowd. I squeezed his arm. “You know we’re just here to grab Renee and get out, right? I’m not trying to hang out or anything,” I told him, making sure we were on the same page.
Brooks nodded. “Yeah, no, that’s cool. It’s just I’ve always wanted to check this place out. It’s kind of awesome, right?” he enthused, grinning.
Uh, awesome wasn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe it . . . at all.
I didn’t bother to respond and instead waited impatiently as we slowly made our way to the front door. When we were finally standing at the entrance, I knew instantly that our chances of being let inside were slim to none. I had noticed people getting turned away and others being allowed admittance. I had been trying to figure out how the scary biker-looking guys at the door were determining who would be granted access and who would be denied. But once we were in front of the doormen and given a disdainful once-over I figured it out pretty quickly.
Brooks and I stood out like virgins at an orgy. It didn’t take a genius to see that the two of us were so far out of our comfort zone that we’d have to hitchhike back.
“Get out of here,” the bouncer said, with barely a look in our direction. He had a close-shaved head covered in some sort of elaborate tattoo as well as inch-round gauges in his ears. He also sported a rather fierce-looking spike pierced through the bridge of his nose. His goatee was styled into a point and dyed a bright red. Another spike poked out from below his lip. This dude was seriously edgy, and my jeans, cotton long-sleeved grungy jacket ensemble, and Brooks’s blazer and plaid button-down made it more than obvious that we most definitely didn’t belong.
“Wait a second, please. We’re just here to pick up our friend. She’s inside,” I said, stupidly trying to push past him in my agitation. Damn it! What was I going to do?
Scary biker dude pushed me back and scowled. “I said”—he leaned down until he was an inch from my face—“get the f**k out of here.” He literally growled when he said it, and it took everything I had not to be cowed under the weight of his glare.
“Come on, man, we’ll pay the cover. Double, if you want. We’re only gonna be a minute. We just need to find our friend. She called us and she needs a ride,” Brooks tried to reason with the guy.
But the bouncer clearly couldn’t give a shit whether we were there to get the Queen of England. We weren’t getting inside.
The people behind us were becoming antsy and more than a little tired of the holdup. “You heard him, get the hell out of here,” a scrawny man said. He was decked out in black leather, looking like an escapee from an S&M club gone bad.
My lips thinned, and my temper started to rise. I was gearing myself up to do battle, if necessary, because there was no way I was leaving without Renee.
Brooks must have recognized the ferocity in my eyes, because he put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing hard, trying to get my attention. I shook him off and leveled scary bouncer dude with my hardest stare.
“Look, buddy, I’m walking inside this door, and you’re not going to stop me,” I bristled, sounding way more confident than I was actually feeling. In actuality, I was shaking in my Converse sneakers. Bouncer guy didn’t seem to mind if I was a girl or not; he was going to physically remove me.
“Let her in, Randy,” a voice said from the shadows just inside the door. Randy’s face turned a flustered shade of red as he looked over his shoulder at the speaker.
I squinted into the darkness, trying to see who my savior was. All I could make out was the dim outline of a man.
I gripped Brooks’s hand and waited to see whether this anonymous man had enough sway to get us in. After a few seconds, the doorman, Randy, turned back to me and took my money. He stamped my hand and waved me inside without another word.