Oh hell no.
Me: What would she charge me to stay there?
Mom: Nothing you're family.
I wasn't exactly comfortable with that. I'm not a deadbeat.
Me: I'll call her to discuss it. I gotta go.
Mom: Call me after you two speak.
Me: I will. Bye mom:)
I finally have a nice buzz and am totally fine bobbing my head seated right where I am. I don't mind hanging around and flirting with Marco either. It's easy. While I am not quite sure if he likes men, women or both, I definitely enjoy his company as he talks about his childhood in Miami, his dream of visiting family he's never met in Cuba, and why he moved to Philadelphia. He is totally taking my mind off the fact that I may be moving in with a family, that I haven't seen since I was a kid.
"Damn." Worry lines begin crinkling Marco's forehead.
"What?" I ask.
"Those two over there." He points. "See the one blond in the dress. They're arguing. When those two argue, the shit always ends badly."
"Who are they?"
"They usually come on Sunday nights. That's a whole different crowd. Younger. More hip-hop and radio. Not as exclusive of a crowd. They must not have realized that tonight is techno night. Stay here for a minute, I need to go grab Larry. I wonder how they got in here tonight?"
In the short time I've been chatting with Marco, he's explained to me the entire employee dynamic of Club Lotus. Larry is the weekend manager of the club, the younger brother of the owner, and an absolute no nonsense prick. Marco doesn't seem to like him very much, but admits that he does a pretty decent job of running the club.
My glass of merlot is beginning to settle in.
All the telltale signs are there.
My lips and tongue are beginning to feel numb, my eyes are becoming a tad more sensitive to the intricate lighting caressing the dance floor, and I have a permanent goofy grin on my face. I'm a little past buzzed but not quite plastered. Amazing. I thought for sure that this third one would set me right on my ass. Maybe I'm building up a wine tolerance; which I guess isn't something necessarily to brag about.
As I bob my head to the rapid fire beat of the latest song, I can't help but watch the scene unfold out of the corner of my eye towards the end of the bar. The woman Marco mentioned, a strikingly beautiful blond woman with a horrendously tacky turquoise colored dress on is arguing with an average looking redhead. The redhead has on a pair of ultra skinny jeans (way too small for her) and some sort of weird, retro flowered top. Both women are clearly out of their element. Their clothes seem really cheap and overall they just appear to be oddly out of place. Even more so than myself or beer boy. At least I dressed the part tonight with Sloan's help.
The music is blasting entirely too loudly for me to understand what is being said, but sometimes you don't need to hear the actual words to understand what is transpiring between two people. If I had to guess, I'd say that they were "frenemies" for some ridiculous reason that goes way back to high school, and that they were looking for any excuse to argue with each other. A couple of drinks and loud music has a way of creating an atmosphere ripe with negative possibilities. In this case, it was a high possibility that someone was going to get their face smashed in. My money was on the redhead.
I spot Marco talking to Larry and then the two of them start fast-walking towards the two women. It was actually hysterical, because I don't think I've ever seen two men walking across a club with arms and elbows pumping like that. I decide right then that Marco more than likely likes boys and was in no way flirting with me earlier, unless the wine is making me a little judgy.
As if everything is unfolding in front of me like a movie in slow motion, I continue to watch the two women arguing. The level of their voices seems to be rising as I watch their facial expressions grow increasingly animated and contorted. I still can't make out what they are saying, but the one with the itsy bitsy jeans on starts moving closer and closer towards the other woman's face. I whip my head back towards my right and watch as Larry and Marco continue to move toward the scene, trying to draw as little attention to themselves as they can, but also trying to get to the girls as quickly as possible. Larry's eyes seem to now be fixated on one particular point. The beautiful blond's lap. I watch as she reaches into her silver clutch, which is lying across her lap, and she pulls out what looks like to be a clunky set of car keys.
Thanks to the wine, I am still swaying and bobbing in my seat to the pulse of the music as the whole scene plays out. The music basically serves as a soundtrack for the drama unfolding in front of me. I am just waiting for the first punch. I know it's brewing. I can see it in itsy, bitsy's eyes. Like I said, my money was on her.