Damon and Dorinda exchange looks. “As far as we know,” she says.
“Call me if you discover anything else, and you”—he points my way—”don’t leave town. I’m going to want to talk to you again.”
Can’t think of anything I’d like better.“Sure.”
He leaves the three of us standing there staring at each other. Dorinda’s holding a glass of wine, and Damon’s wearing his uncertainty like a bad haircut. The only thing I’m sure of is that I need to get the fuck outa here. They all apparently believed it when I said I’m psychic, the story I pulled outa my ass in a fit of desperation.
Fuck, I’m not sure I even believe it.
I wanna shut my brain off. Dance floor time. Not sure there’s a graceful way to exit after all of this but fuck graceful. I’m out.
I take a deliberate step toward the door. “I guess I’ll see y’all later, then.”
Damon blinks, somewhere between surprised and shocked. “I was going to offer you something to drink. Water, maybe.”
Dude, he can probably smell the Jack Daniels across the room. “Thanks anyway. I need to hit a club.”
His next blink is squarely in the realm of shocked. “You’re going where now?”
“Go dancing. It’s only midnight. You want to, uh, come?” I stumble over that last bit, already bummed. I want him to say yes when he’ll likely say no. Anticipatory rejection ftw.
“I’m not sure. . . “
“Come on, Big D.” I throw some sass at him. Not like I could possibly make things worse. “Princess is hot to go.”
Dorinda takes a sip of wine, her gaze flicking from me to her brother. It’s obvious she wants to say something, and I’m half tempted to ask her what. I don’t, because I’m tempted, not stupid.
“What club are you thinking?” Damon’s gaze holds the kind of banked-fire look that gives me a flicker of hope.
“Probably Neighbors. Close to home, you know.” Where I can shower away the funk and the stress and the fear.
“Haven’t been there in a while.” He exhales, like he’s come to a decision. “Definite maybe. Text me if you change your plans.”
“I won’t.” If for no other reason than that flicker of hope has turned into a merry little blaze.He might actually show up.
Dorinda mutters, “Y’all are crazy,” and walks out of the room. Damon watches her go, then shrugs.
“Yeah, I’ll have to shower and change and stuff.”
“Let me have my coat and I’ll leave you to it.” I pull my phone out of my pocket. “Neighbors in an hour?”
“I’ll text you. Might take longer, depending on the light rail.”
Ah yes, the definite maybe angle. Claiming my coat, I leave him to get ready—or not—and try to keep some perspective on my own hopes.
Chapter Sixteen
Damon
Neighbors doesn’t look like much from the outside; a low building in the middle of the block on Broadway, with a relatively subdued neon sign over the door. This late, everyone who waited in line is already inside, so I walk right in. There’s a huge dance floor with a bar on one end, a stage on the other, tables along the walls, and an elevated booth for the DJ. The whole thing is lit with rainbow floodlights, and there are a couple of raised platforms at the center of the floor.
Ezra’s on the platform on the right, just high enough for his head and shoulders to be seen over the people on the dance floor. I can’t take my eyes off him yet somehow I make it to the bar without tripping over anybody or anything, which is a damn miracle.
Lights flash with the beat and the air is heavy with the smell of competing hair products.Ezra’s dancing with a Black man who’s taller and slender. They’re rocking in sync, Ezra’s back to the other man’s front. The crowd shifts, giving me a better look at Ezra. His shirt is unbuttoned and his jeans are riding 2002-level low. He’s got his head resting on the guy’s shoulder and one of the guy’s hands is spread wide over his belly.
I want that to be my hand so bad I have to close my eyes. I start to sweat, and it’s not just because the club’s a good thirty degrees warmer than it was outside.
By the time the bartender gets to me, I can barely remember how to talk. I blink at him until my brain comes back online, then order a beer of some kind, and by the time I turn back around, the Black man is dancing by himself.
