“Pride is one of our most popular clubs,” Jake explained.
“And it’s the only way in. Shal we?” He indicated via a
courtly flourish that I should walk ahead of him, but my legs
seemed rooted to the spot and refused to cooperate. Jake
was forced to take my arm and escort me. The fog cleared
to reveal a young man and woman standing outside the
doors. The woman was insect thin, pale, and dressed in
nothing but sequined black shorts, a leather bra, and the
highest platform shoes I’d ever seen. Fine silver chains
hung via silver hooks from her bra down to her navel,
creating a mesh curtain in front of her torso. Her platinum
blond hair was cropped short, and a cigarette hung from
black painted lips. I was surprised to see the young man
was even more heavily made up than his female
counterpart. His eyes were boldly outlined and there was
black polish on his nails. He wore a leather vest over a bare
chest and checkered pants that tapered at his ankles.
Piercings were visible on every body part exposed. The
woman traced the outline of her lips suggestively with the
tip of her tongue on which I could see a silver stud. Her
eyes had a hungry look as they traveled over my body.
“Wel , wel ,” she purred as we approached the entrance.
“Look what the cat dragged in. It’s a glow-in-the-dark dol .”
“Good evening, Larissa … El iott.” Jake’s greeting was
acknowledged by a silent and simultaneous inclination of
heads.
El iott smirked and cast an approving glance in Jake’s
direction. “Seems someone took something that didn’t
belong to them.”
Jake’s face broke into a gloating smile. “Oh, I think she
belongs to me.”
“Wel , she certainly does now.” Larissa’s laugh was low
and guttural. She’d outlined her eyes so the liner curved
upward, giving her a feline look.
The way they talked about me as if I weren’t there was
unsettling. It made me feel like some kind of trophy. If I had
been less disoriented, I might have expressed my
disapproval. Instead, I asked the only question that sprang
to mind and my voice came out sounding childish and waif-
like.
“Who are you?”
El iott clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “She obviously
don’t get out much.” That made me angry.
“It’s real y none of your business!” I retorted, causing the
pair to break into peals of laughter.
“She’s entertaining, as wel ,” commented Larissa. They
cocked their heads and continued to study me with an
unsettling intensity. “What else can she do?”
“Oh, just the usual,” I snapped back angrily. “Backflips,
knife throwing, that sort of thing.”
Jake sighed with sudden boredom. “Can we move this
along, please?”
Larissa shrugged obligingly and bent down to look me
directly in the eye. “You wanna know who we are, dol
face?” she asked. “We’re the door bitches.”
“Excuse me?” I was taken aback.
“We man the entrance. Nobody gets in or out without our
say-so.”
“But seeing as you’re a VIP,” El iott jibed, “you can go
right on in or should I say
down
?” The pair shared a
conspiratorial chuckle.
“And what if I don’t want to?” I said defiantly.
El iott raised a quizzical eyebrow and waved his hand
vaguely behind me. “Honey, can you see any place else to
go?”
I had to admit he was right. Surrounding the al eyway was
nothing but an oppressive swirling blackness, the kind that
looked capable of devouring you. There was only one path
with one door at the end of it. Only one direction any of us
could take. As much as the idea of going through those
doors made me feel queasy, I knew it couldn’t be as
dangerous as wandering through the blackness alone. I
didn’t know who or what was out there. I stil didn’t even
know where I was. I felt Jake’s warm breath behind my ear.
“You’l be fine,” he murmured. “I’l look after you.” It was
strange how they al waited to see what my decision would
be. As if I actual y had a choice.
I squared my shoulders and stepped forward with
bravado I didn’t feel.
Larissa bared her teeth in a smile before grabbing a tight
hold of my wrist and turning it upward. Her grip was cold
and claw-like, but I tried not to flinch. She held my wrist
faceup as El iott pressed something down on the inside. I
braced myself to feel pain, but when I looked, he’d only left
an inky imprint behind. It was a stamp of admittance in the
form of a smiley face.
Larissa pressed a buzzer and the heavy doors slid open.
Jake ushered me into a vast carpeted foyer where flights of
narrow corkscrew steps veered like a labyrinth in several
directions. There was no time for closer inspection as he
steered me swiftly toward the central steps. The pumping
music grew louder once we started our descent
underground. The sound was so overpowering that I looked
hesitantly back toward the open door. Larissa appeared to
read my mind.
“Too late to change your mind, sweetheart,” she said.
“Welcome to our world.”
Then she slid the heavy doors shut behind us.
I fol owed Jake down the narrow stairwel until it led to an
open dance floor, where a throng of bodies was pressed
together, fists pumping the air and heads thrashing to the
beat. The dance floor was a checkerboard of colored lights
flashing on and off. I was surprised to see people of al
ages on it. The sinewy, leather-clad limbs of the elderly
contrasted sharply with the firm, exposed flesh of youth. I
was startled to see a few children there too. They had the
designated task of clearing the tables and refil ing drinks.
The one thing that united them al —young and old alike—
was the vacant expression they shared. It was as if they
were only physical y present and some vital part of them
had been erased. They were like sleepwalkers, consumed
by mechanical movements that were only interrupted long
enough to down another shot of liquor. Occasional y under
the masklike faces I detected a darting eye or nervous
flicker, as if something dire were coming. The track playing
was a computerized dance number made up of a single
line that was repeated continual y: “I’m in Miami, bitch.”
Light flashed across the polished concrete floor, casting
shadows across the bodies moving in sync with the
rhythmic beat. The mingled scent of cigarettes, spirits, and
perfume was overwhelming.
I’d never stepped inside a club before so I had no point
of comparison, but it looked surreal to me. The ceiling was
il uminated by a myriad of tiny lights and the wal s were
lined with red velvet so they looked like upright couches.
Scattered around the perimeters of the room were white
cubes that served as tables, as wel as low velvet couches
that looked battered and wel used. The tables had glowing,
cone-shaped lamps on them and the bar that wound around
one side of the club had been crafted to simulate the
appearance of molten lava. Around the bar loitered black-
suited security guards stonily nursing their drinks. A
striking-looking woman behind the bar juggled shot glasses
and threw bottles with the dexterity of a circus performer.
Her wool y ringlets, flecked with gold, surrounded her face
like a mane and she wore a figurehugging red bandage
dress with brass armbands. An asp tattoo wound its way up
the burnished dark skin of her throat. She watched us
distractedly and didn’t avert her gaze even when someone
ordered a drink.
As Jake and I inched our way through the press of
bodies, the crowd parted to make way for us. They never
stopped dancing, but their eyes fol owed our every move.
When someone reached out a tentative hand to touch me,
Jake made a low, hissing sound and threw a lethal look.
The
onlooker’s
curiosity
shriveled
instantly.
Jake
acknowledged the barmaid with a formal nod that she
doubtful y returned.
“What can I get you to drink?” he asked. He had to shout
over the music to be heard.
“I don’t want a drink. I just want to know where I am.”
“You’re not in Kansas anymore.” Jake chuckled at his
own joke. I had a sudden urge to make him listen—to see
how frightened I was.
“Jake,” I insisted, grabbing his arm. “I don’t like it here. I
want to leave. Please take me home.” Jake looked so
taken aback by my touch he didn’t answer right away.
“You must be very tired,” he said final y. “How insensitive
of me not to notice. Of course I’l take you home.” He
signaled to two bearlike men who were standing at the bar
in black suits and sunglasses, which looked absurd given
we were in a dimly lit club underground.
“This young lady is my guest. Take her to Hotel
Ambrosia,” Jake instructed. “Make sure she’s safely
delivered to the executive wing on the top floor. They’re
expecting her.”
“Wait, where are you going?” I cal ed out.
Jake directed his smoldering gaze at me and smirked,
seeming to enjoy my dependence on him.
“I have some business to attend to,” he said. “But don’t
worry, they’l take care you.” He glanced at the bodyguards.
“Their lives depend on it.”
The guards’ vacant expressions didn’t alter, but they
nodded almost imperceptibly. Then I found myself
enveloped by rockhard muscle as they shepherded me out
of the club, roughly shoving aside dancers that got in our
way.
Back in the underground lobby I peered past my escorts
to see that Pride was only one of several clubs that wove
their way underground like catacombs. From the murky
depths of one stairwel I could hear muffled moans and
soon two men in suits emerged dragging a disheveled-
looking girl with a tear-stained face. She wore a lacy corset
and a denim skirt that barely covered the tops of her thighs.
Her struggle to free herself from their vise-like grip was
futile. When her eyes met mine, I saw terror in her face.
Instinctively I took a step forward, but my move was
intercepted by one of the guards.
I brushed them off and tried to sound casual, doing my
best rendition of the way the girls at school spoke. “What’s
up with her?” I figured the more alarmed I appeared, the
less information I’d be given.
“By the look of it she just ran out of luck,” replied one
guard while the other punched numbers into his cel phone
and muttered our location to the person on the receiving
end.
“Luck?” I parroted.
“In the gaming room?” he replied as if the answer to my
question was patently obvious.
“Where are they taking her?” This time he merely shook
his head in disbelief at my ignorance and walked me
toward a long car with tinted windows that had pul ed up
outside the club. It was strange to see a car indoors, but the
underground tunnels, I realized, were wide enough to fit two
cars side by side and were meant to serve as roads. The
rear door was opened for me and the guards slid in on
either side so I was ensconced between their bulky forms.
The smel of cigar smoke clung to them.
We drove for a while through the winding tunnel that
seemed to spiral into nowhere. Wandering partygoers
shuffled out of the way when they saw us coming. Once we
moved away from the club district I noticed that these
people didn’t seem to be celebrating. They drifted
aimlessly around with staring eyes and vacant faces like
the living dead. Looking at them closer, I saw their skin had
a grayish tinge to it.
Final y at the end of a steep tunnel we came to a
towering building that had perhaps been white, but had now
faded to the color of yel owed parchment. It must have been
at least twenty stories high and classical in style with plaster
scrol s above the windows.
Revolving doors led us into a vast and opulent lobby. The
hotel was designed so the rooms on every floor overlooked
the lobby, giving the effect of looking up into a maze. The
showpiece of the lobby was a curtain of tiny fairy lights. It
hung from ceiling to floor il uminating a central marble