The Scene (6 page)

That's right bitch!!

Damn, was I glad he did that. I don't know how much longer I could have kept up that charade. If I am being honest, I was a little worried when Cyrus was going to realize I wasn’t a size two blonde bombshell. I feared that at some point
, everyone was going to point and laugh at me. I had a horrible feeling that I was going to be made to feel like a complete idiot by Cyrus. It wouldn’t be the first time.

             
A look shot across Dominika’s face. It was a flash, and if you weren't looking, you would've missed it. It was the look of betrayal. There was something in her eyes for that split second that scared me. I don't even know what it was, but I was instantly terrified. I wanted to get away from her. Far, far away.

             
Thankfully, Cyrus moved past her with Tatum and me in tow. We left Dominika behind. The beautiful girl stood there all alone with only her self-worth to keep her company.

             
The three of us quickly fell into step with one another. Our movement made a soft sound. We mimicked the music, a slow, steady, rhythmic, cadence. We moved as one solid unit. If one were to listen to all our hearts at once, they would have been beating in unison. Before I realized it, we had stopped. We were standing in front of the bar. I must have been zoned out by the music, or us. I'm not sure which.

             
I was suddenly aware of my surroundings. The music thumped in my head. My eyes had adjusted to the light, causing the room to look much different than when I had first seen it. I saw more people, I felt them, and I smelled them. There were many more bodies here than I had originally assumed. Maybe three or four times more.

             
Little Miss Observation is lagging tonight.

             
One thing hadn't changed from the moment I stepped through those double doors, the smell. It had only become stronger, more pungent.

             
Tatum shoved a drink in my face and said, “Drink up bitch! I'm sobering!”

             
“How does you sobering mean I have to drink?” I should have known the answer before I even asked it.

             
“Drinking alone makes you an alcoholic...you know that.” She flipped her head back and let the warm liquid slide down her throat. All three of us finished our shots and slammed our glasses down the on bar in unison.

             
“Whoo, that's my girl!” Tatum said planting a quick smooch on my cheek.

             
My stomach burned a little and my cheeks felt warm as the alcohol settled in. I smiled at Tatum, before turning to gaze at Cyrus. I turned my head too fast and a wave of nausea swept over me. I felt dizzy and a little disoriented. Everything began to look slightly askew.

             
I was almost sober when I walked and one shot wasn't going to get me drunk enough to puke, or even feel dizzy for that matter. What the fuck is my problem.

I looked up at Cyrus, damn he's tall; I felt like he was towering over me. His eyes were almost glowing green in this light. They smoldered behind his beautiful fanned eyelashes, like two glowing orbs. He smiled then and his stark white teeth glimmered a bit. They were all shiny and white and a little menacing. Maybe it was just the way he was looking at me, maybe he was drunk. Maybe I was drunk.

I looked over to Tatum, turning as slowly as I could, so as to not get dizzy again. The look on her face surprised me. She looked as though she might vomit, or fall over, maybe both. She wasn't looking at me, just kind of zoned out, face turned toward the dance floor. As I stood there, staring at my best friend wondering if she was as fucked as I was, a strange sensation washed over me. I felt euphoric; suddenly everything was okay. I had no feelings. No regrets, no remorse. Not sad, or angry. Not even scared; though I probably should have been. I just felt free. Tatum looked up at me then and smiled. It wasn't her normal smile, not the smile I had seen thousands of times before. This smile was pure, this smile was unrestricted. I think I smiled back at her, but I’m still not one hundred percent on all the details.

             
From what I can remember, we all stood there very still just staring at each other. Yeah...okay looking back now it does seem kind of weird, but at that moment it felt perfect. The next thing I knew we were moving like a wave with the crowd on the dance floor. I could feel every beat of the music like a heartbeat in my soul. Back, and forth, we all swayed. My entire body felt boneless. I remember looking around intently, seeing the entire space for the first time. When we had first entered, I hadn't been paying as much attention as I had thought. I had missed so much in my first observation. I had missed the beautiful chenille clad dancing girls up on the stage. They moved like felines with the music.

Walls that were painted in a swirl of red and black shades were adorned with deep antique gold sconces. Each assisting in filling the room with flickering candle light. My eyes wandered over the faces in the crowd
, still moving in unison with the wave like motion. As I met their eyes, I noticed the light gave their eyes that green glow as Cyrus' eyes had held before. I also noticed that everyone I could see was breathtakingly beautiful. Each one of them had those perfect pouty lips and black fan eyelashes. They all moved as Dominika had, as though they had muscles most people don't.

I could feel hands on me, on my shoulders, in my hair, pulling around my waist. I was moving with the heartbeat of music pulsing through my body. All of my senses were heightened. I could hear every note of music. I smelled sweat, booze, and blood. I could see everything I couldn't see before. My body turned with the pulsating crowd and I saw something else I hadn't seen before. I saw the mirrors. I couldn't make my eyes focus or my mind wrap around what I was seeing. I tried to stay as still as I could and force myself to understand what I was looking at. There, in the mirror, I saw myself, I saw Tatum. I saw two more women, and a handful of men, all pulsing and moving with the music. I did not see the hands I could feel on my skin. I did not see the bodies I could feel moving around me. I watched in the mirror as Tatum danced with an invisible man to my left. I searched the mirror for Cyrus; he had just been right next to me. The curiosity in me wanted to know why and how it could be. My terrified logic told me to scream
, to run like hell away from the dangerous unknown. I spun around frantically to grab Tatum and run. Instead, I slammed right into Cyrus.

Had he been standing behind me the entire time?

I tried to turn back to see the mirrors again, but Cyrus held me in place. I looked up at him and attempted to struggle free from his grip. He merely smirked at me, then leaned down and whispered something into my ear. I closed my eyes and tried to hear him speak over the pounding music. I could feel his breath, surprisingly cool on my ear.

             
And then…nothing. 

CHAPTER 7

             
I blinked my crusty, hung-over eyes over and over again. I rolled my head from side to side and looked around the room in an attempt to figure out where the fuck I was. My eyes were blurry. I couldn't see shit. My mouth tasted like someone had pissed in it. My head felt as if it might have been trapped under the ass of a four-hundred pound woman all night long. Not that I'd know what that feels like.

             
I drank waaaay too much last night.

             
I rolled over onto my side, only to discover I had been lying on a very thin couch. Thus, crashing to the floor with a very audible thud. I heard a familiar laugh from right in front of me. I opened my eyes, which had been squinted in pain, to find Tatum, looking half asleep and quite hung-over, but still beautiful, on the ground next to the couch I had been lying on. Her face was only inches from mine causing her laugh to shriek in my ears like glass shattering into my brain.

             
“Bad pair of skates?” It was Tatum's favorite phrase when someone ate shit. Seeing as though I’m about as graceful as a baby calf, she was able to use it on me almost daily.

             
“Fuckin' hilarious, Tatum. Where the hell are we?” I was so irritated by that point I could've punched her.

             
“I have no clue, dude. We’re upstairs. That, I can tell you for sure,” she said dispassionately.

             
“How do you have any idea we're upstairs? There isn't even a window in here.” I looked then at my surroundings.

The room we were in had no windows and two doors. I was guessing one door went to a bathroom or closet and the other, I assumed, was an exit of some sort.

              “Judging by the sound of your ass hitting the ground we have to be upstairs.” She said this completely dry, not even a smirk on her face.

             
I looked at her, expressionless, for a few moments before I broke. I tried a laugh but that hurt, so I had to settle for a light chuckle. At that, the dry look she was giving me broke too. We have never gone longer than a minute with the stare-off; someone always breaks.

             
“Okay, so we're upstairs. What the fuck does that tell us?” I said obviously irritated.

             
“Do you remember anything?”

I thought about it for a minute and tried to remember. I tried to piece together the remnants and fragments of the previous night. I remembered Philippe the vampire tool, and Cyrus, and the bouncer in the tiny shirt. I vaguely recalled pulsing music, candle light, and some slut in a blue dress.  
             

Fuck. I don't know.

I couldn't distinguish fact from fiction. It all seemed like a dream. The only thing I could say for certain is that, whatever happened, I was too fucked up to remember it properly.

              My head spun at light speed toward Tatum who, coincidentally, was turning to look at me. My wide eyes met hers as I expressed my discovery.

             
“That fuckin' drink!” I shouted. “What the fuck was that shit??” I asked Tatum, hoping she might remember what she had ordered.

             
“I have no clue. I can't even remember what it tasted like. You don't know what you ordered?” She said with little thought.

Huh?
  

“I didn't order anything. You handed me a drink. I thought you ordered it...you didn't?”

              “No. I was handed a drink. I drank it. You know I don't question free drinks. If I didn’t buy our drinks, then who did?” She asked.

             
“CYRUS!” I screamed this angrily. I hollered loud and angrily enough in fact to rouse the man in question. Two seconds later he came through the door.

             
“Well speak of the devil and he appears.” Tatum can be such a snide bitch. I love it.

             
“I've always wanted a girl to scream my name.” He smiled that perfect, model smile that makes girls swoon.

What a dick!

              Tatum had had her fill of Mr. Cyrus Atossa. She jumped up in one fluid movement and was in his face before I could take a breath.

             
“What the fuck’s going on?” She spoke through her teeth, so close to his nose she could have bitten it off. Cyrus looked at her like a scared child. I think he even flinched.

That's my girl, instilling fear in the hearts of men since 1983.

              Cyrus looked down sheepishly, hands in his pockets. “You guys got a little drunk; I didn't know where you lived so I brought you back here,” he said, not meeting our eyes.

Tatum bowed up, flared her nostrils, and squinted her eyes. If he didn't fess up soon
, he was going to leave bloody. 

             
“Honest. No touchy.” He held his two fingers in the air.

Scouts honor my ass.

              “Fuck honor, Cyrus. You know what I'm talking about. Why can't we remember anything?” she said, as she gave him a look of rage and fear.

He hesitated for a second. It was time for bloodshed. Cyrus knew he'd better start talking before she ripped his heart out via his sternum.

              “Okay, okay. You were part of the experience,” he said finally.

I sat there and watched the perfectly executed right hook make contact with his flawless face. Blood spewed from his mouth; I think a tooth even flew out. He never saw it coming. I instantly burst into uncontrollable laughter. I had seen Tatum knock a fucker out a handful of times throughout our friendship and it never gets old. This time though was a little disheartening, because she may have permanently scarred that beautiful face.

What the general public doesn't know about Tatum Price is that she’s the daughter of Steven Price, martial artist and professional hit man, turned stunt coordinator for many motion pictures. He’d taught his daughter well before he died. Hell, you should see her handle a firearm. She stood there, face hard and callous, watching as he held his own face in pain.

             
“When you’re able, I would like to know the full events of last night. In detail if you would.” She turned slowly and walked nonchalantly to the couch. She sat softly, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap - very ladylike. You would have never guessed she had just nearly punched a man’s teeth in.

             
I sat waiting in awe. Legs curled up to my chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. I looked back and forth from the astute blond to my left, to the bleeding Persian at my right. No one did anything for a full two minutes. Tatum just waited and watched emotionless, as Cyrus regained his composure. As the seconds ticked, I watched Tatum, waiting for her cool calculated demeanor to waiver with impatience; she didn't even blink. After what felt like a century, Cyrus straightened his posture and slowly removed his hands from his blood soaked face.

Oh my God he looks like...well...like he just got hit in the face.

He first looked to me; his face was empty, almost. His eyes held a hint of shame and the sparkle of a secret. After a moment or so, he turned from me to his vicious attacker, who just so happened to be a woman. If he dared tell anyone what really happened, I'm sure he'd be laughed at, there may even be pointing
and
laughing. Once his eyes were on her, they changed dramatically. Now they were empty, they held nothing. No hint, no clue as to what was hidden behind the mask that is Cyrus Atossa.

             
“I've only ever been a player in the game. But last night, I wanted to see it as it was meant to be seen. I wanted to feel what was meant to be felt.  I wanted to experience what you experience.” He looked to me then. The look on his face was one of sorrow and remorse, with an undertone of longing.

             
“I am also not certain of the events of last night. I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that you were safe. The situation is always controlled and well monitored. No one is ever injured or taken advantage of, we see to that.” His face was still dripping blood.

             
Good.

             
“You know, Mr. Atossa, when I asked for details, I meant it. Now elaborate or you
will
leave here with flashing lights.” Tatum never moved. Her face remained cold and heartless. Her breathing was a perfect soft rhythm.

Cyrus exhaled heavily, looked to the floor, and turned to walk toward the chair just to the right of me. I sat like a child in the middle of the floor. My best friend sitting calmly to my left, the most gorgeous man I had ever seen in person to my right. He was bleeding all over his stark white carpet. The bright red spots created a
morbid contrast with the white of the carpet. He sat with a flop, obviously not feeling shipshape. He closed his eyes and sat for a moment; Tatum waited patiently for him to collect himself.

             
“When you signed in to Embrace, Baloo asked for your I.D., you signed a waiver.” 

Baloo? Like the fucking bear? What an ass.

He continued
. “You signed a legal binding document that states you are aware you are entering a private club, you are a willing participant over the age of twenty-one and agree to partake in the experience. Including, but not limited to, the consumption of hallucinogenic and mind altering substances. Everything you experienced last night was heightened and exaggerated by the drugs they gave you.  All of the theatrics and magic tricks were just part of the show. Every night at dusk the doors open and invite in hundreds of willing participants eager to party with the 'vampires'. They are drawn to the scene. The beauty and danger lures them in like innocent little moths to a white hot flame. They leave with the same question you both have now. What was real? The answer is no. Nothing was true. I'm sorry, truly. I thought it would be perfect for you to experience and be a part of a show that most will never enjoy.  Please forgive me.” He wasn’t looking at Tatum as he answered her question. He was staring directly at me, apologizing.

             
Tatum took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let it out slowly through her mouth. She was still a perfect statue of composure. I on the other hand was fuming with anger. I was no longer the innocent child sitting curled up on the floor. I instantly spun around on my butt and turned my body to face the bastard.

             
“What the fuck kind of game is this? What? You go out every night and wrangle up some poor girls to drag into this crazy underground world of drugs and death? Did it ever occur to you that we might get pretty pissed off? Maybe, if you would have said at some point, 'Oh hey, by the way, I'm going to drug you guys and have my way with you, just so you know', we probably still would have gone. But no, instead, you have to pussyfoot around and take advantage of my desperate need to solve this insane mystery. Where do you get off?” I was so pissed I could feel the anger like a hot poker on my tongue.

             
“I am sorry, Dylan. Really, I understand why you are angry, and I do not blame you. The experience is never the same if the participant is aware. I just thought you would get a better understanding of our world if you saw it firsthand. But, really, it is just a magic show enhanced by natural plant extracts.” His voice was nearly pleading at that point.

             
“Plant extracts? Don't get me wrong I enjoy the occasional head trip as much as the next guy, but what I experienced last night was not your usual herbal enhancement. What did we take?” The trip I went on last night was like no plant high I had ever been on in my life.

             
“I am not sure. All I know is it is a legal non-addictive substance derived from plants,” he said, regaining a better sense of himself as the blood stopped pouring from his face.

             
“You allowed us to take something you don't even know what it is? You took it too, right?” I asked. Still fairly pissed I had been duped. One of my many pet peeves.

             
“Yes. I had never been part of the audience before. I wanted to do it with you. I would have never brought you there had I thought something terrible might come of it.” His voice was apologetic.

             
“Well something terrible did come of it. Come on Tatum let's get the fuck out of here. I have had about enough of beautiful liars for one day.” I stood up, angrily, and went to reach for Tatum.

             
“I want to know how it's done.” This from Tatum, still cool and collected.

             
“A magician never tells his secrets,” Cyrus said with a smile. He was treading on thin ice.

             
Tatum closed her eyes, took another deep breath in, letting it out again through her mouth. This time she turned her head far to each side; cracking her neck. The shit was about to hit the fan. She stood slowly and began stalking toward Cyrus. He immediately flinched and curled into a ball atop the chair he was in.  He knew what awaited him if she didn’t get her way.