Michelle shot me a curious glance as we stepped forward, past the club doors. “What was he talking about? Masks?”
I didn’t have to answer her because the moment we walked into the dark club, it made sense. The club was called Mascarada because it was an actual nightly masquerade. Everyone we passed in the foyer was wearing a mask that covered some or all of their face.
“C’mon,” Michelle said, tugging my arm and leading me to the left where the bouncer had directed us. The hallway was packed with people trying to get to and from a small room at the very end. We pushed through the crowd and I stood frozen as I came face to face with masks in every shape, size, and color. Feathers, glitter, rhinestones, bows, lace. They were beautiful and exotic, and I knew I’d have a hard time picking just one.
“Entra! Come in!” an older woman called from behind a small counter in the back corner of the room. She had white hair, tied up in a severe bun on top of her head. She waved everyone forward, trying to tame the crowd. “Find a mask and then check out with me before you leave.”
Easier said than done.
I reached for a white mask hanging on the wall just past the door. It was glittery, cheap, and a bit obnoxious, but I could hardly move in the room, and I didn’t care enough to shove through the crowd and try on others. Michelle reached for a blue one next to where I’d found mine, and we edged our way toward the back counter to make our purchases.
It was ten or fifteen minutes before we made it to the front of the line. I’d been jostled and shoved more times than I cared to count, but when I dropped my mask on the counter and reached for the extra money in my small clutch, the woman manning the station shook her head.
“No. No. This one won’t do,” she said, eyeing me over the rim of her glasses. Up close, she was even smaller than I’d expected. Before I could protest, she abandoned her station at the counter and disappeared into the crowd. I glanced back at Michelle, confused.
“Out of my way!” the woman shouted, though I couldn’t pinpoint where exactly she was located in the room. She was a sneaky little thing.
People behind us in line eyed me with annoyance, but I shrugged and turned around. It was a few minutes before the woman sidled back behind the counter with a content exhale.
“Here,” she said, dropping a new mask on the counter in front of me and reaching to grab the cash out of my hand. “Melhor. Better.” She was ringing me up before I’d even confirmed that I wanted the new mask, but I’d have been an idiot to turn it down. It was exquisite, the same red hue as my dress and made completely of brocade lace. It tied in the back with black silk ribbon and I didn’t even care to find out what it cost. I needed it. Maybe I’d even wear it for the first game. And the one after that too.
Michelle helped me tie it once we’d made it back out to the hallway. The lace was soft against my skin, seductive even. I met my gaze in a hazy mirror hanging on the wall and silently thanked the woman for taking the time to find it for me. With my red dress, red lace mask, and confident smirk, I was hardly recognizable, even to myself.
“All right, let’s go,” Michelle said once her mask was in place. “I need a drink.”
I’d assumed the inside of the club would be less crowded than the mask room, but there were people everywhere. Even with three levels full of private tables, booths, and dark alcoves, I couldn’t take more than two steps without brushing against a random person.
The masks had a heady effect on the entire experience. Even the bartenders wore them so that when I leaned in to shout my drink order to one of them, I couldn’t be sure he’d heard me. He whipped around to reach for a bottle of liquor and I glanced up, taking in the entire club. The space was shaped like a rectangle with three stories. The center of the room was open from floor to ceiling so that the people on the top floors could lean over the railing and watch the dancers. It was like surround sound for all of the senses.
Michelle tapped my shoulder and I turned to find my drink waiting for me on the bar. We paid and wound back through the crowd, trying in vain to find the group Nathan had promised would be there. We tried the dance floor, curling around the perimeter of jostling bodies without luck.
“Let’s try the second floor,” Michelle said, pointing to a set of stairs in the corner of the room.
That was where we ended up finding them; they were sitting at a long table, three drinks ahead of us and loud enough to prove it. I’d nearly passed by them without notice, but Nathan had shouted my name.
“Andie!”
I turned and watched him stand to greet me on uneven footing. He smelled like liquor when he pulled me into a hug, but I smiled and introduced him to Michelle. Her smile was wide and genuine—clearly she was interested—and in an instant I felt like a third wheel.
“Michelle quiero mucho dance,” I said, hoping my broken Spanish would be close enough to the Portuguese translation.
Nathan arched a brow and held out his hand.