birthright_rpg | Move With the Music

The bulky man in a tight black t-shirt stamped her hand, and Holly gave him a close-mouthed smile. Wordless music began washing over her the moment she entered the club. The air changed in that way it did when a large mass of people shared an enclosed space. She was wearing a red dress, black lace top over it.

Finding a space in the middle of everything, she started to dance. She could get a drink later. Holly closed her eyes at first, just enjoying the lack of thoughts. Thoughts had kept her up at night, swirling nonstop until the colors all bled together.

And okay, it helped that she was a little high.

A bloke came up to her, starting to dance with her, but more like around her. She laughed soundlessly, tossing her hair back and turning her back to him. He took this as an invitation to press himself against her back.

She rolled her blue eyes up to the ceiling, hot lights playing over the crowd. One song, and then she'd push him away. "Asshole," she said, because she could, because no one could hear her.

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"Right."

Holly coughed when the fog machine turned on. Clouds of smoke turned into colored haze. "I hate clubs that do this. What exactly is so cool about fog?"

The brunette turned and made her way to the edge of the dance floor. The redhead could follow if she wanted, but she needed a break. She found the coat room, abandoned for the summer, and let herself inside.

She pulled out a cigarette. Truth was, her euphoria was on the downward slope.

The coat room. She hadn't considered that. Deanna liked how the girl thought. She wasn't completely sure the younger girl was interested or was just escaping the crowd. Either way, she could use a, if the pun could be pardoned, a breather.

She held the tray high above her head as she sashayed off the floor, turning ninety degrees to avoid two girls joined at the hip. Deanna paused, and knocked on the door.

"Land shark."

Holly snorted and opened the door. Her cigarette was lit, and she exhaled a plume of smoke that joined the manufactured fog in the club. "You don't look like the type to watch that show."

The brunette held out a garment. "Look what I found. Members Only jacket." She fished around in the pockets. "A condom, a piece of paper with a phone number. Ooh, Kelly. Sexy name."

She held her cigarette in her mouth, shrugging it on. She did a little half-turn. "How do I look? I think the only thing missing is a porn 'stache."

She'd watched the brunette fidget enough with her hair. It was Deanna's turn now. The tray was set onto the floor before she took a healthy strand of brown locks between two fingers and held it across the younger girl's upper lip.

"Now you're a pimp."

After a moment, she released the strands but kept her fingers close to the girl's chin. "And I'm betting your name is sexier than Kelly."

She snickered, the liquor having made its way to her head. "No, it's really not." Holly tossed the silver-wrapped condom to the floor, and it fell into one of the shots. Oops. She wouldn't be drinking that one.

"I'll tell you a secret."

The younger girl sat down on the floor, playing a silent game of eenie-meenie to decide which one to try next. "My name is Holiday." A golden one, Johnnie Walker that went down like fire.

Deanna picked up the offended shot glass, tossed aside the wrapped condom, and swallowed the shot. It was a dark liqueur, not that her taste buds could truly enjoy it.

"What? I've drunk far worse."

She rested against the wall, sliding down until she was at eye level again with the girl. "Must be fun at Christmas," the redhead commented. "You strike me more as a Holly, amiright?"

Another shot, the second-last. Peach schnapps. "Mine's Deanna."

She twirled the empty glass in her hand. "So, who's strobe-light eyes?"

"So have I, to be honest. One time, I mixed Ribena with vodka. I was sick the whole next day." Holly flicked her ash into one of the empty glasses. She wondered if anyone would find them there.

"Okay, I only met him once. And it isn't one of those goopy, dizzy things. You know, fawning over the Mr.Darcy type. But he helps keep my mind off things."

Holly pulled her hair back to show her ears. "He bought me these earrings. They're very Vegas, aren't they?"

Deanna didn't focus on the earrings. Not when she could see the pulse in Holly's neck. That was Vegas. Life, begging to be tasted. Not ten-cent jewelry sold on the Strip.

Also, the plastic dice reminded her of something Daniel would buy, in a pathetic attempt to win over a pretty girl.

"They're... really something," she spoke politely. But they don't really do you justice. Now these." Deanna placed her forefinger and thumb on the clasp of her left pearl earring, removing it, then the other. She held both in her palm, outstretched. "These are more you."

The corners of Holly's mouth twitched. Was Deanna mad? She took the earrings, holding them up to the light. They looked like real pearls.

"On second thought, maybe I should stay in Vegas. My jewelry collection will double."

Still, the brunette was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. "I'm not really the type to..." Holly gestured to the redhead. "I like boys. Even if a lot of them are right prats."

"Pity."

Holly shrugged, smiled. What can you do?

Faint strains of thumping bass filled their tiny room, and the single light bulb above them swayed a little in its rhythm. The discarded shot glasses looked sad to her, like when a great party finally ended and you realized you were exactly the same person as when you first arrived.

"I should go home."

Whether she meant London or her motel room, Holly wasn't entirely sure.

Move With the Music

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