I expected to see LED lights flashing through the many windows and dozens of cars parked out front, but there’s neither. The lot doesn’t house so much as a hubcap, and the entire building is pitch-black.
Reed drives a block over and goes through an alley before doubling back to Murdock’s, where we find the party. Behind the building is a gravel-covered field that plays host to a sea of cars. Though the windows in the back of the building may still be dark, the heavy bass to muffled music can be felt through the ground once we step outside.
There’s a slight chill in the air, butReed takes the jacket from my hands and tosses that back into the vehicle.
“Trust me, you won’t need that.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “First, a couple of ground rules. We can’t go inthere looking like this is some reconnaissance mission, so mix and mingle. Blend into the environment. That said, donotdrink anythingyouhaven’t gotten directly from the bartender. And if you really feel it’s necessary to try something else, stick to pot. Murdock’s doesn’t cater to anything too hardcore, so there isn’t heroin or LSD, but you two strike me as lightweights. The last thing we need is one of you tripping on psychedelics.”
I try not to laugh, because, despite the warning being meant for both of us, Reed is only looking at Maggie.
She promises to behave, but I can’t say her oath has much weight behind it, given that she says it while rolling her eyes. Maggie follows up the statement by hooking her arm with mine, wearing the kind of smile that could put Caesar Flickerman to shame.
As Reed predicted, the temperature changes significantly upon entering the warehouse. Between the throng of people and all the electronics, it’s at least ten degrees warmer inside. I’ve never been to a rave or even a warehouse, so I’m not sure what to anticipate. I picture a larger version of a frat party with huddled masses, overly loud music, and everything reeking of beer, but the atmosphere is markedly different.
There’s something transformative in it. It’s just as crowded, but the energy is palpable. The only lights in the space are part of the pink and blue LED system that swirl and blink to the rhythm of the music. The beat of the song vibrates over my skin, the scent of perfumes, body wash, and raw sexuality mingling with something I’ve never encountered. It’s bitter and sweet and heady.
The back entrance of the building also opens up on the second level of the warehouse—or rather,the factory.The entire layout is open, so everything from the ground to the building’s roof is visible from the center of the work floor, where most of the machinery and pallets likely used to sit. There are stillsome side offices and smaller work spaces lining the perimeter of the building, now labeled with signs indicating where certain “recreations” can be found.
We decide to divide and conquer with Reed heading in one direction and Maggie and me going in the other.
No sign of Jase yet.
That doesn’t dampen Maggie’s spirits, since she’s far more preoccupied with eyeballing the back side of the six-foot tall Adonis in front of us rather than looking around for Jase. “Officially the best reconnaissance mission I’ve ever been on.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help laughing. The three of us spend the next hour mixing and mingling and knocking back a drink or two as we continue to circulate in hopes he’ll show. I’m up on the second-floor walkway with Maggie, where her new “friend” with the Adonis ass is buying pot when a sleeve of tattoos catches my eye down in the makeshift lounge. Though Reed and a few others may be sporting similar accessories, Jase’s black hair and healing bruises are unmistakable, even in the limited light. All of the furniture here looks secondhand, except for this apparent VIP section where Jase now sits on a black leather sofa with some guy I don’t recognize.
A dark-haired girl comes up behind him and taps his shoulder, interrupting their conversation, but Jase doesn’t look put off by this. She whispers something into his ear, motioning to the hallway off to their left. He thanks her and immediately stands up, following after her. An irrational pang of jealousy flares up in me, drawing the obvious conclusion, but I can see someone else standing in the hallway. It’s too dark for me to see anything definitive except that Jase shakes the mystery guy’s hand before the trio disappears into what used to be an office.
I text Reed to let him know about the development, and we all meet up on the ground level. While Maggie and Adonis head out to the dance floor, Reed and I stick near the bar, a.k.a. theplace closest to the VIP section that won’t draw attention to us. We stand there for over ten minutes, still “waiting for our chance to order drinks,” when Jase reemerges from the hallway with the mystery guy in tow. He’s slightly over six feet tall with a sinewy frame and high cheekbones. Even under the pink and blue lights, I can see his hair is blonde, the soft waves styled into a short cut that makes him look more like a 1950s heartthrob than a modern-day lawbreaker.
Reed’s expression shifts immediately at the sight.
“You know him?” I try to ask as quietly as possible over the music, which still leaves me semi-shouting.
“Dash Martin. He’s a broker for…questionabletransactions.”
“Meaning what?”
“He sells everything from information to black market items. The feds have tried to peg him multiple times over the past few years, but nothing’s stuck.”
“So, basically, if you’re involved in some really shady shit…”
“You give him a call? Yeah.” Reed’s eyebrows shoot up so high that they disappear entirely beneath the bleached hair hanging over his eyes.
I follow his line of vision to see his attention has gone past Jase and Dash to the dark-haired girl coming out behind them. She walks past the two in favor of the bar to grab a napkin and ask the bartender for his pen. The young woman scribbles down her name and number before heading back over to Jase, rewarding him with an inviting smile and bedroom eyes. Accompanied by the fingertips she drags down his shoulder, the objective is more than implicit as she places the folded napkin in his hand and whispers something into his ear.
Curves for days, a cup size much deeper into the alphabet than my pathetically modest bust, two sleeves of tattoos that go up to her neck, and long, sharp black fingernails that could rival Michelle Pfieffer’s Catwoman; she’s everything I’m not.
The perfect bad girl for the perfect bad boy.
A certain someone’s shrieks and cackling laughter are so loud that we can hear her over the music. We turn to see Maggie thrown over Mr. Adonis’s shoulder as he carries her out to the center of the dance floor.
With her cotton candy pink locks, Maggie is pretty much impossible to miss, so it’s no surprise Jase spots her too. His entire body goes rigid, and he immediately begins scoping out the crowds like an assassin, looking for his target.
Shit! Whether she likes it or not, Maggie has the party girl persona down to a T, so explaining her presence here isn’t too much of a stretch. Me being here, however… Yeah, that lie has about as good of a chance of getting off the ground as an elephant in a hot-air balloon. The second Jase sees me, he’ll know what I’m up to. He’ll know I’ve been spying on him.
I hide behind Reed, as if that will really help. Between the tattoos, height, and bleached hair, he stands out even more than Maggie. Reed is well aware of this fact, too, so when he says he has a plan, I’m all too happy to follow his lead. I picture him causing some kind of a distraction so that I can slip around the bar and head for the back doors or the bathrooms, so color me surprised when he reaches down, grabs me by my thighs, and pitches me over his shoulder.
“What the hell?” I hiss, watching in horror as he makes his way through the crowd…right onto the dance floor.
