Vowing to make the best of a shitty situation, I get in my car and head to the club, calling again to let her know I’m on my way. She doesn’t answer. There’s a slight drizzle as I navigate the streets, and I can slowly feel my anger ebb as my anticipation sets in. I might not get to mingle with her friends for very long before they’re all ready to leave, but a little is better than nothing at all…unless they’ve all already left. I suppose that’s always a possibility, too.
Parking is damn near impossible when I arrive forty minutes later, but I eventually find a spot a couple blocks away and decide to walk. I pay the cover charge and head inside to see if I can find Amelia. If I don’t see her, I’ll have to try calling her again to make sure she made it home all right. I’d hate to worry.
Wall-to-wall bodies greet me as I cross the threshold. It smells of stale booze, and the music is way too loud. How these kids can hear anything is beyond my comprehension.
God, when did I get so old? I’m sure things haven’t changed that much since I was this age.
I make it through the first wave of hormonal young adults, and I’m just about to walk toward the bar when the crowd clears a path leading to the dance floor. I glance at first, and when I don’t see her I turn back in my original direction. Then, out of my periphery, I see a flash, feel that pull she has over me, and I look back again.
There, in the middle of the dance floor, is Amelia. Her eyes are closed, lips moving as she sways to the loud and fast music playing. She looks so beautiful—although a little drunk—and when I see another man pressed up against her back, his hands on her hips, I see red. I keep my eyes on them as he takes her hand and spins her before pulling her against him, and she laughs. I push through the crowd that suddenly gets in my way. My heart beats louder than the music until my blood pulsing through my veins is all I can hear.
I reach them in less than a minute, though it feels like longer, and I yank the guy off Amelia. She stumbles, but I’m not fully focused on her as I pull my fist back and slam it into this asshole’s face. His nose gives under the force of my punch, and he falls to the ground. Bodies circle around us, gasps and cries of shock breaking through the pounding of my own heart. Somewhere in the distance, I hear a voice cry, “Hey!” but my focus is on the man on the dance floor who’s starting to stand.
I’m about to demand he stay down if he knows what’s good for him when someone grabs me and tries to turn me. Ready to tell whomever it is to mind their own goddamn business, I whip around, only to be met with alarm and confusion.
“Owen?” Amelia says, almost as though she’s unsure what she’s seeing. She blinks, clenching her eyes shut for a moment. When she opens them, I’m still here, and she’s still confused. She looks completely smashed, swaying from leg to leg to keep her balance. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
I open my mouth to demand an explanation when she fully realizes what just happened. “What the hell are you doing?” she cries, pushing past me and kneeling next to the guy who was practically fucking her on the dance floor. She cradles his head in her lap and inspects his nose beneath his bloodied hand while I just stand there, flabbergasted. Is this really happening?
“What the hell am I doing? Care to explain what it is the two of you were up to a minute ago?”
Another man rushes toward Amelia and this boy. Amelia stands the minute he takes over and approaches me. “Dancing. You know, what us crazy kids do at these clubs.”
The crowd is forced to break up around us again as several burly guys approach. Bouncers. Their hulking size and angry expressions tell me that much.
“What seems to be the problem here?” one of them asks, looking from me to the man on the ground, then toward Amelia. “Miss, maybe you need to take your father outside and get him home.”
“He’s not my father!” she shouts at the same time I yell, “I’m not her father!”
Yes, I can understand the misconception, but it’s still maddening to hear it over and over again.
“Well, regardless of who he is,” the bouncer continues, “he needs to leave. Either of his own volition, or by force.”
Amelia looks up at me, and her eyes narrow angrily before she storms past me. The line she makes toward the front door is anything but straight, and I can feel the waves of anger rolling off of her as I try to catch up to her.
“Amelia! Amelia, wait,” I call after her, but she doesn’t stop. Once we’re outside, I reach for her and grab her arm. “Amelia, listen to me—”
She whips around so fast, I fear she might stumble given her drunken state. “No, you listen.” She thrusts a finger in my direction. “I have never been so humiliated in all my life…which, granted, isn’t all that long, but—”