“If you’re ready to cleanse your palate, tonight might be a good opportunity,” Kamilah said, dropping her lime in the shot glass and pushing it back across the bar.
Grey mulled it over. She turned her back to the bar and rested her bare shoulder blades against it, taking in the array of young, lithe bodies that were slowly crowding the VIP section. Her gaze settled on a guy chatting up his friends in the corner. He was long and lanky, with tanned skin and an unruly head of curly black hair. As if he felt her eyes on him, he glanced up, his full lips curling into an insouciant smile as he kept talking, before looking away again. Grey blushed and looked down. Kamilah subtly turned her head to see what Grey had been looking at, then grinned and rolled her eyes.
“You always did like the tall ones.”
The stage lights went down and the crowd roared as Andromeda’s band took the stage. Latex-clad dancers undulated under strobe lights as Andromeda descended from the ceiling on wires. They floated around the stage, lifted high on an elegant and ever-changing arrangement of their dancers’ raised arms and bent shoulders, as they cooed their way through their first song. Behind them, Kamilah’s videos were projected on enormous screens: objects, shapes, faces, perfectly timed with the music, starting as abstractions and cutting away moments before becoming identifiable. The overall effect was mesmerizing.
Grey sipped a vodka soda and leaned against the railing. She was vaguely aware that the guy from earlier was now standing only a few feet away. She tilted her head slightly, looking at him without looking at him. He was younger than he’d seemed from a distance; early twenties at most. Well, that wasn’t a dealbreaker, and she had to admit he was even cuter up close—cute, but not seasoned enough to be handsome. She noticed him sneaking glances at her, too.
Did she want to talk to him? She supposed she should enjoy her new freedom, though she wasn’t entirely sure how much she was allowed to. As far as the press knew, she and Ethan were still together, just keeping a low profile. But she had no obligations to him anymore, contractual or otherwise. There was nothing wrong with a little flirting. She only hoped that this guy was sizing her up due to how good her ass looked in her leather leggings, and not because he’d already seen, in detail, what it looked like underneath them.
Her weekend with Ethan had reminded her what it felt like to be desired. It had also reminded her what it felt like to be publicly humiliated. But now she felt something else: powerful. She’d had a debauched lost weekend with an A-lister, had her indiscretions smeared on the front page of every tabloid, and lived to tell the tale. What else did she have to lose? She’d already lost everything that mattered.
She scooted a little closer as Andromeda’s second song came to a close. He looked over at her and smiled.
“They’re amazing, right?”
“Unbelievable,” Grey agreed. He turned fully toward her and offered his hand.
“I’m Max.”
“Grey.”
He leaned forward, frowning, as the crowd cheered louder.
“Grace?”
“Grey. Like the color.”
Her lips were practically touching his ear as she shouted to be heard over the din. His eyes lit up in comprehension, and he leaned back again.
“Grey! Got it. Nice to meet you. So how do you know Andromeda?”
“My friend Kamilah—” Grey looked behind her to point to Kamilah, who had conveniently disappeared. “Well, I’m not sure where she is right now. But she’s dating Andromeda, and she does all their video stuff.” She gestured at the screen behind Andromeda. Max looked suitably impressed. “What about you?”
“See the guitarist?” He pointed to an angular man to Andromeda’s left. “That’s my brother.”
Grey oohed and aahed, inching slightly closer to him. He nodded at her drink, which was now mostly ice.
“What are you drinking? Can I get you another?”
“Vodka soda, please,” she said, flashing her most charming grin.
“You got it.”
He headed toward the bar. Grey turned to see Kamilah immersed in conversation with a group of three or four people, but when they made eye contact, she excused herself and made her way back over.
“So?” she asked, eyes flicking over to Max, busy at the bar.
“I don’t know, we barely even said anything. He says the guitarist’s his brother?”
“Ohhhh, so that’s Zane’s brother. You know he’s, like, twenty-two, right? You little cradle robber.”
“Relax, I’m not planning on ever seeing his crib.”
Kamilah laughed and returned to her conversation. Grey didn’t even have to look to know that Max was behind her with their drinks. She accepted hers with gratitude, and they went back to the railing.
“So, what are you into?”
Grey frowned. “What?”
“Like, what do you do?”
“Oh. I’m an actress. Unemployed, right now.”
“Oh, nice. Anything I’ve seen?”
Grey hated that question, even under normal circumstances. She always had to bite her tongue to stop from responding, How should I know? Now, with her recent X-rated output, the question was even more loaded. She played it safe, going with her usual (unfortunately accurate) answer, “Probably not.”
Max’s face fell in disappointment. It seemed genuine, so Grey chose to believe that he was oblivious.
“What about you?” she asked quickly.
“I’m a musician, too,” he said, gesturing his head at the stage. Grey cringed internally. She’d gotten over her musician phase in high school, when her boyfriend had dumped her after she’d been cast in an off-Broadway play, rendering her too busy to sit on the couch in his friend’s basement every afternoon and make eyes at him during rehearsal like his bandmates’ girlfriends.
“What kind of music?”
“Industrial noise, mostly. I dabble a little in glitch, too. Sometimes I rap over it. It’s all kind of freeform.”
“Oh, cool,” Grey said, suddenly very interested in her drink. She had no idea what to say next. Her brain felt like a shaken Etch A Sketch. Her eyes strayed back to the show, and the two of them resumed watching in silence.
After a few more minutes, he nodded at her, and left to go back to his friends. Grey’s stomach twisted. So much for being a powerful heartbreaker. She couldn’t help but feel like her leather leggings were disappointed in her.
She returned to Kamilah’s side after that, spending most of the evening smiling and nodding vacantly as Kamilah and her new friends recounted one outrageous tour anecdote after another. At the bottom of her third drink (fourth, including the tequila shot), her mind was loose enough to wander, against her will, to Ethan. What was he doing right now? Probably shut up in his office, drunker than she was. The thought should have made her feel relief at a bullet dodged, but instead she felt like crying. Did he miss her? Was he thinking about her? Why hadn’t he tried to contact her?
She scanned the room for Max, and caught his eye as he talked to his friends. She tilted her head a little, and he came sidling back over immediately. Maybe she wouldn’t have to turn in her seductress credentials after all.
“Wanna make out?” she asked, setting her empty glass on the table next to her with a punctuating clink. His eyes widened a little in surprise, then a grin crept over his face.
“Yeah. Sure.”
She took his hand and led him out to the back stairwell, which was deserted, lit by dim red lights. Her intention was to find somewhere even more private, but as soon as the door shut behind them Max had her up against the wall, his mouth coming down on hers so hard their teeth clicked.