Page 8 of Pretty Poisoned
Sure enough, thereisa secret fucking door. I mimic the group, flashing my badge to the security guard, who lifts a curtain aside so I can step through. Then, I follow them down the dark corridor and into a dimly lit back room filling with people—mostly females—with the same badge around their necks. I don't see the band yet, but this has to be the right place.
There's a bar in the back corner, a dance floor, and booths lining the walls. The interior is red and black, with crystal chandeliers reflecting dim—almost too dim—lighting. A song from Gods of Tomorrow's first album plays through the speakers. I'm taking it all in when an employee stops in front of me with a tray of jello shots.
"Care for a shot?" she prompts.
I shrug. "Why not?"
I take one of the small plastic cups and bring it to my lips, running my tongue around the sides before sucking the red and green substance into my mouth. I chew it a couple of times and gag, shocked by the metallic taste, before I force it down.
"That never gets old," a small blonde girl beside me says, laughing.
"Seriously, never," her friend agrees, wrapping her arms around her waist and laughing into her shoulder.
"What the fuck was it?" I ask them.
"Is this your first time?" the blonde asks.
The second girl, taller with pink hair cut into a sleek bob, laughs again.
"Yes," I tell them, even though I don't quite understand the question.
"What's your name?"
"Um, Teagan."
"She's cute," the blonde tells her friend before turning back to me. "I'm River, and this is Hazel. We've been on this tour since…" She pauses, laughing. "I don't even know how long we've been here."
"Since July," Hazel says.
"Right," River says. "July. Right before they left for the European leg—and that was blood, by the way."
"What—" I guess I knew once it settled onto my tongue; I read about it online, too. I just haven't had time to process it yet. Still, you'd think the server would fucking warn people. "What the…well…who's fucking blood was it?"
The band's?
River shrugs. "I don't know. Mine, hers? It's clean if that's what you're worried about. It's all been tested."
"Well, I suppose that's comforting," I say.
The two girls laugh. "I like her, Haze," River says. "You can sit with us."
River takes my hand and pulls me to a large booth in the back corner which has been roped off with a sign that says, "Reserved." I slide into the booth behind her. The dark-skinned girl with the bloody neck sits on the top of the high-backed booth seat with another sadder-looking blonde girl beside her, staring at the cut at the base of her throat.
She's jealous. Interesting.
"Riv, did you make a new friend?" a guy asks from across the table.
"I did," she says. "Her name is Teagan, and she ate our blood jello. Teagan, this is Brady. That's Layla with the blonde hair, and the bloody girl is Alana. What do you want to drink, Teagan? We have everything."
"Is there blood in everything?" I ask.
"There isn't blood in any of this," Hazel says, gesturing to the center of the table. "But…there could be. If you wanted."
She flips open a knife. I guess she didn't have to go through the metal detector. I furrow my brow, and she smiles. I can't tell if she's teasing me or not, but before I can respond, the band enters the room through the back door. First is Eli, the bass player, then Rhett, the drummer, followed by the two brothers. Eli heads for the bar, throwing his arm around someone he appears to know. The brothers start moving around the room, taking pictures and signing autographs. Rhett slides into the booth next to Brady, and the group I've fallen in with congratulates him on the show. He thanks them, his eyes settling on me—the one who doesn't belong—before looking at River and laughing.
"What?" River prompts.
"You know what," Rhett says.
