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“C’mon,” Gina, said, grabbing my arm as the band struck the first note. “Everybody!” she commanded.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or my friends around me, or the way I was dressed, but all inhibitions left me when I stepped on the dance floor. Gina was freak-dancing with Luke, so I grabbed Rodney and started freaking. I was bumping and grinding against Rodney, then turned and he did the same to me. At one point I was down at his ankles working my way back up his body to the beat when I froze around his mid-section. I was being watched by a pair of very familiar, very emblazoned sapphire blue eyes. Trey sat at the bar adjacent to the dance floor, leaning back, with a beer in his hand and a blond on his left. I couldn’t tell if they were together or not.
Rodney noticed I'd not come back up all of the way, and bent down to face me. “Are you all right? Are you going to be sick?” he asked, concerned.
“I may be,” I answered, “don’t turn around Rodney, but Trey is sitting over at the bar, and he’s looking over this way.” Naturally, Rodney turned and saw him.
“Holy shit,” he said, “I’m outtie.”
Rodney climbed the staircase to the safety of the mezzanine. “Chicken,” I thought. I wasn't about to be intimidated by Trey so I danced over to Clint and joined them.
As “Super Freak” ended, the band immediately cued up another Rick James song, “Party All the Time,” as in ‘my girl wants to.’ Perfect, I thought. Clint and I danced to the tune, along with Gina and Luke. We were bumping and grinding and I was getting the ultimate pleasure watching Trey squirm in my very astute peripheral vision. I made sure when the song ended, to jump up and wrap myself around Clint in a big hug. I think he was a little shocked, but no more than I.
After two in a row, we were all a bit worn out. As we climbed the stairs to the mezzanine, Gina caught my attention.
“That was quite a little show you put on down there for Trey, you looking to get Clint and Rodney’s asses kicked tonight?”
My look of surprise and shock didn’t fool Gina at all.
“Don’t bother,” she said, “I know how you roll, girlfriend and hey, I’ve got no problem with dude sitting over there watching you and feeling like his heart is being ripped out, believe me. But C’mon, Ty, you know that it’s not really fair to Clint and Rodney when he chews them out later, right?”
“I was dancing with Piers, too,” I argued, “so you think Trey’s going to take a piece out of his hide, too?”
“Doubtful,” she answered. “In the first place, we’re not even sure Trey was in here when you were dancing with Piers. Secondly,” she continued, with a laugh, “you weren’t dry humping Piers like you did with the others.”
“It’s called ‘freaking’” I argued, “and it’s a perfectly acceptable dance.”
“Uh huh,” Gina replied. “Hey, I ain’t the one you have to convince, Ty. I was doing it too, you know. It’s just that, well…” Gina started giggling almost uncontrollably, “My partner didn’t leave the dance floor with a hard-on like both of yours did!”
“Shut up! No they didn’t!” I laughed, “You're making that up, Gina!” I was bent over, laughing so hard that I didn’t notice that Trey was walking to the dance floor with the blond who'd been sitting next to him at the bar. Gina hadn’t missed a thing, though, as she glanced at me.
“Showtime,” Gina said, nodding her head toward the dance floor. I turned to follow her gaze and my heart sank to my knees. We hurried the rest of the way up the steps. I didn’t want to give Trey the satisfaction of knowing that I'd seen him take his date on to the dance floor. The band did a Mike and the Mechanics ’80s song called, “All I Need is a Miracle.” What an appropriate selection, I thought. I tried to ignore the lyrics but the words floated up to me over Gina’s insanely expensive sound system, the words crisp, clear, and sharp as a knife as they pierced my heart.
I couldn’t take it any longer; I felt the warm tears brimming in my eyes threatening to spill. Gina saw it, too.
“C’mon,” she said, taking my hand, “let’s go to the little girls’ room.” We'd barely made it inside the restroom when the floodgates opened. Gina found box of tissues and was trying to do damage control to the eye make-up she'd so carefully and expertly applied earlier.
“It’s okay, sweetie, you're going to be fine, no need for tears,” she was trying her best to soothe me.
“Why is he here?” I blubbered, “And he brought a fucking date! He must really be trying to send me a message with this stunt, and it’s my birthday!” I wailed.
“No, no, honey, c’mon, you don’t want streaks down your cheeks, now,” Gina was dabbing away.
“Oh, I don’t care what I look like, Gina. I want to leave!”
“Oh, no, we're going nowhere, girlfriend. Now you just take a minute and calm yourself down and listen to me, I mean it.”
I nodded obediently. Gina took out a compact and dabbed some pressed power just underneath my eyelids.
“There, that’s better,” she said. She then got some pencil liner out and relined my bottom lids. “Perfect,” she said. “Now, I need to tell you something, Ty,” she started in a conciliatory tone. “I'm probably the reason that Trey is in here tonight.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, I said something to Aunt Becky when I talked to her last week. I let her know that Ian and I were having you come to Atlanta this weekend to celebrate your birthday. I asked her to let Clint and the others know, and that they were invited as Ian’s and my guests to the Sanctuary tonight in honor of your birthday. I swear to God that I didn’t ask her to invite Trey, though!”
“Gina, you knew that between Clint, Luke, and Rodney, Trey was bound to find out, now didn’t you?”
“So what if he did? He should be here for your birthday!”
