WORTHY, Part 2 (7 page)

I felt a surge of affection toward Jane. She was really going out of her way to try to make me feel welcome. And she was completely right: I was too worried about Jonathan being gone. He had to do what he had to do, but I needed to take care of myself, too. I couldn’t depend on just one person for my happiness and well-being. I’d been happy before alone, out in the woods. It was silly to think that I had to be around Jonathan in order to be happy now. I could do this. I could explore this city on my own and develop friendships on my own — like with Ash, I really liked and valued — and be happy on my own.

Even when Jonathan did return home from his trip, he’d probably have a lot more work to do. We wouldn’t be able to be attached at the hip like we had been at the cottage. That was something I needed to accept, too. It was pointless to crave the life we’d had out in the woods. That wasn’t us anymore, and wishing for it was only a waste of time.

“So serious.” I snapped out of my thoughts to realize that we’d arrived at our destination and Brock was holding his hand out to help me out of the car.

“That’s my game face,” I said, giving him a grin as I struggled to get out of the car without flashing my goods.

There was a long line to get into the club, but the bouncer unhooked the velvet rope and motioned at us. His eyes widened when he saw Jane get out of the car — she didn’t take nearly as much care as I did to try and conceal what was beneath her dress. I could feel the music just as much as hear it. The bass was powerful even just lingering outside on the sidewalk.

“Straight up to the VIP section,” Jane instructed, pointing her finger at the sky. “No mingling, Michelle. She has a problem with fraternizing, Brock, it’s the damndest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little healthy fraternization,” Brock consoled me, slipping his arm around my shoulders. “I’ve had some of my best lays from the help.”

I winced and cringed away from him, and Jane gave him a playful shove.

“Pig,” she said sweetly.

The music inside the club was deafening, a driving electronic beat pulling us forward. We took an elevator up to the VIP section, but even inside the metal box, the bass was so powerful that I was sure it was making the sequins on my dress rattle.

Brock positioned Jane and I on either arm so he could help us negotiate the path to our couch. I was beginning to believe that the heels were a bad idea. My feet were already aching, and it was only the beginning of the night.

“Look at this arm candy of mine,” Brock remarked, jerking us closer to him. “How did I get to be such a lucky man?”

“You are only one of many,” Jane told him, patting his arm condescendingly. “Don’t think too much of yourself.”

The couch that had been reserved for us was made of black leather and overlooked the dance floor below. I perched on the edge of the couch and looked down, watching the mass of writhing bodies. I was pretty sure I had no idea how to dance to this kind of music, but they were all giving it their best tries, grinding against each other and swaying their hips.

A cocktail waitress arrived with a tray, and I opened my mouth to order something, but she instead set down a trio of bottles: vodka, rum, and tequila. Another waitress set down a number of glasses, a bucket of ice, and carafes of different juices. Apparently, VIP meant that we could act as our own bartenders. I didn’t know if that was awesome or dangerous. Probably an exotic mixture of both.

“Let me do the pleasures,” Brock said, grabbing the bottle of tequila. “Let’s do a shot to get warmed up.”

Warmed up? I’d been getting warmed up all evening. I remember how the previous tequila shot had curdled in my stomach.

“I think I’m going to pass on a shot,” I said. “Maybe I’d just better have some of that orange juice.”

“Pass on a tequila shot?” Jane shrieked. “Never! What’s your problem, Michelle?”

“I don’t think I can do it,” I confessed. “The one we took before we left the compound nearly got me.”

“Well, with that attitude, of course you can’t,” she said. “Now, repeat after me: I am going to make this tequila shot my bitch.”

“I am going to make this tequila shot my bitch?”

“With more conviction!” Brock roared, drizzling the foul liquor into three shot glasses.

“I am going to make this tequila shot my bitch!” I hollered, surprised that I could hear myself at all over the music. It wasn’t as loud up here as it had been when we’d first walked in downstairs.

“That’s my sister,” Jane said, grinning at me and holding her shot glass aloft. “Here’s to a night we’ll never forget — well, who am I kidding? Of course we’re going to forget it!”

The tequila hit me the same as before, blending with the salt in a vaguely unpleasant way, but the immediate bite down on the lime made my stomach not only tolerate the shot, but accept it.

“You’re getting better at this,” Jane laughed. “I am seeing very good progress, Michelle. Excellent work.”

“I am now taking drink orders,” Brock said. “Mrs. Wharton?”

“Enough with the Mrs. Wharton!” Jane berated him, slapping him on the arm. “Seriously!”

“I’d be more surprised if I didn’t find Amelia down there dancing,” Brock remarked, following my gaze to the crowd below.

“We’ll take two vodka cranberries,” Jane said. “And no more talk of my mother, please.”

I was soon clutching yet another beverage with yet another kind of liquor sloshing around in it, but I was only too happy to slurp on it with a tiny swivel straw.

“So tell me, Michelle,” Brock said, looking at me. He was pretty handsome once you got past the fact that he was a crude idiot, and I could kind of understand why Jane kept him around. “How’s married life?”

“She hasn’t had a chance to enjoy it yet, remember?” Jane interjected, rolling her eyes. “Jesus, Brock, you can be so dense sometimes. Jonathan had to leave the wedding.”

“He left the wedding?” Brock asked, looking genuinely confused. “Damn. I really was wasted that night.”

“We both were,” Jane said, shaking her head. “But even I remember that. Poor Michelle’s been on her own ever since.”

“That’s a damn shame,” Brock said, patting my hand. “On behalf of my friend, I apologize. He is an asshole for leaving you.”

“He’s not an asshole,” I protested. “He had to go. I totally understand. It’ll be fine when he gets back.”

“It’s fine now,” Jane said. “We’re going to have a good time and not get bogged down in all of this sad, silly talk.”

“I know,” Brock said. “Let’s play a drinking game.”

“What for?” I asked, confused. “We’re already drinking.”

“Please excuse my sheltered sister,” Jane said. “She has lived a sheltered life and before this evening, had never even taken a tequila shot. You’ve never played a drinking game either, have you?”

I shook my head, but quickly stopped. It made me terribly dizzy.

“This is a great game to get to know everyone,” Brock said. “It’s called ‘Never Have I Ever.’ Basically, we go in a circle and name things we’ve never done. Whoever has done them has to take a drink.”

Both of them studied my blank look for a couple of seconds.

“Never has she ever heard of this game,” Jane remarked. “Brock, you go first. Michelle, you’ll catch on.”

“All right,” I said uncertainly.

“Never have I ever taken it up the ass,” Brock said cheerfully.

“Liar,” Jane said, grinning as she took a drink.

I wrinkled my nose. What had just happened?

“Brock has never been on the receiving end of anal sex — allegedly,” Jane said, raising her eyebrow at him. “Since I have been on the receiving end, I took a drink. What about you, Michelle? Have you ever had anal sex before?”

I blushed, embarrassed out of my mind. “I don’t think I want to play this game,” I said, looking away.

Jane and Brock burst out into laughter. “We’re all friends here, Michelle,” Brock told me, holding his hands out. “We’ll take your secrets to the grave. Promise. Now, be a good sport and play. It’s a fun game, it’ll get us drunk, and we’ll get to know one another better. What do you say?”

I stupidly wished Jonathan were there at the club to back me up. He’d curse them both out inventively and cheerfully and put all of this to an end. This whole premise made me ridiculously uncomfortable.

“I don’t know,” I hedged. “It seems like they’re going to be really personal questions.”

“That’s the whole point,” Jane said. “That’s the best part of the game. It’s much more fun than spending months and months digging for secrets, don’t you think?”

I didn’t know what to think, but I nodded numbly. All the drinks I’d had were making me unusually pliant. I took another sip of my drink — it was perfectly balanced and very delicious after the raw tequila shot — and settled back on the couch.

“The game is on, then,” Jane said, clapping her hands. “Never have I ever had a cock. Brock! Why are you drinking, you dickless son of a bitch?”

He laughed as he swigged his cocktail. “That was a cheap shot, even for you,” he said. “Now, Michelle, it’s your turn. Tell us something you’ve never done.”

“Never have I ever gone skydiving,” I said, my voice small.

“Boring,” Jane said, rolling her eyes. “Come on, Michelle. It has to be something juicy. That’s the whole point.”

“I’ve been skydiving,” Brock said, sipping his drink. “It’s only juicy if you hit the ground without a parachute.”

“Disgusting,” Jane opined. “Another one, Michelle, and make it good this time.”

I cast around for possibilities. They wanted something juicy, which meant that they wanted something about sex.

“Never have I ever… had sex on a boat?”

Both Jane and Brock took drinks dutifully.

“You mean to tell me Jonathan hasn’t taken you out on the yacht?” Brock asked. “That was one of his favorite places to take girls.”

“Michelle isn’t a girl,” Jane reminded him. “She’s his wife. Plus, it’s been too cold to be out on the lake. Don’t worry, Michelle. I’m sure that as soon as Jonathan comes back and summer comes, he’ll take you out on the yacht and you can pop your boat sex cherry.”

“I wonder if he remembers how to operate the yacht,” Brock said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I might have to come along, too. You know, to drive the boat. Chaperone. Listen. Watch. Participate, if you all are feeling magnanimous that day.”

“You’re such a pervert,” Jane laughed. “Now, go on. It’s your turn.”

“Never have I ever lived alone in the woods before,” Brock said, raising his eyebrows at me. I sipped my drink. I had lived in the woods. I was starting to understand the game better now.

“Seriously!” Jane groused. “You two are so boring. Brock, I want something juicy, goddamn it!”

“Fine,” Brock said, smiling easily. “Never have I ever masturbated while living alone in the woods.”

Both of them looked at me expectantly as I flushed heavily, hoping the flashing lights of the club helped conceal my shame a little bit. I hesitated just a moment longer before lifting my glass to my lips and taking a sip.

“That’s hot,” Brock commented as Jane cackled and clapped her hands.

The more we played the game, the drunker I got and the looser my lips became. Jane and Brock were able to guess at some of the things I’d done while out in the woods with Jonathan (“Never have I ever had sex in the great outdoors”) and they delighted in discovering little things about our sex life.