Haze(16)

CHAPTER NINE


Isla




"You'll need to come with me."

I ignore her at first, not because I'm rude. At least, I try not to be rude. I don’t pay any attention to her because I'm sure she's talking to the woman next to me who has been flashing her tits at some guy parked on a bar stool.

I see a lot of breasts in my line of work. On any given day I'd venture to guess that I see at least four or five pairs when I'm helping customers try on bras.

I don’t compare them to mine because I know mine are spectacular. I'm not conceited. It's just that every guy I've ever f*cked has said the same thing.

Well, I mean they've said other things, like I'm good at oral or I'm too loud when I come but for the most part, they've liked my breasts. I like them too.

"Excuse me." I feel a light tap on my shoulder with the words.

The tone is too high to be Barry's. Besides he's staring at me and he hasn’t said anything for at least two minutes. I think he asked me something. Did he ask me something?

I feel sick. Like so sick right now.

"I'd like you to come with me." I hear the voice again. It's definitely a woman.

I look to my left and I see her there. She's dressed all in black. Even her dark hair is pulled back into a bun. She's the exact opposite of fun. She's no fun. I wonder if she's related to Cicely.

I think I might vomit.

"She's not going anywhere with you. I'm taking this one to the back with me," Barry, the blonde haired dentist I met earlier, says really loudly. He says it so loudly that my head hurts.

"There's a problem, sir." The grumpy lady is pulling on my arm. "I'm going to have to escort her from the club."

"That's not happening." Barry grabs hold of my waist. "We are going to the back. I've invited her and she accepted."

Technically I haven't exactly RSVP'd yet. He did invite me when he was kissing my neck and drooling in my ear. I was leaning more towards not going. He's not my type and I haven't flossed today so we're not a good match. I know how much dentists hate it when you don't floss. My grandmother always said that if you can't say something nice, try and say something nice…no wait, if you can't say something nice, say something not nice? No…it was…

"You're a good dancer." I tap my hand on his chest. "I like dancing with you."

"What's the problem?" Barry ignores my compliment. "I don't understand what the problem is."

"There's an issue with her identification." The woman gestures towards my clutch purse.

"What issue?" Barry's voice is even louder now. I definitely have a headache.

"Shh." I bring my finger to my lips. "You're so loud."

The woman in the dark clothes leans close to us both. "We have reason to believe she used fake identification to get into the club."

Well, shit. I am so f*cking busted right now.

I pull my clutch closer. That fake ID cost me a lot and I need it at least for the next ten days until I'm actually twenty-one. I don't want this woman to take it away from me. What if I decide I need a drink after work one day?

Who am I kidding? After tonight, I'm never drinking again.

"Her ID is legit," Barry says.

"Don't say legit." I grimace as I look up into his face and shake my head from side-to-side. "It's not cool, Barry. You're like over that hill, you know what I mean?"

The woman talking to us stifles a laugh.

"Give me that ID." Barry grabs hold of my clutch so quickly that I don't have time to react. A lot of that has to do with the two, wait, it was three vodkas and sodas I've had since I got here.

"I want it back." I try to yank the bag back into my hands. "That's mine."

"Sir, you need to step back." A man dressed in a dark suit is standing next to us now. I recognize his bald head. I saw it when I first came into the club. He was greeting some people at the door.

"He took my bag," I whine. "Tell him to give it back."

I pull harder on the clutch but Barry's got it in a death grip. He's shaking his head and gritting his teeth. "I'll show you that her ID is real. She's at least twenty-five. Look at her."

I pull harder. "You think I'm twenty-five? Really? I look twenty-five to you?"

"At least." Barry pushes the bald headed man aside as he tugs on my clutch. "Just tell them the ID is real so we can go to the back."

"No." I shake my head as I let the clutch go. "It's not real. I'm only twenty. I won't be twenty-one for another ten days."

I don't see Barry's expression as he falls on his ass. My eyes are glued to my clutch and as it flies out of his grasp and through the air, I say a silent prayer that the broken clasp will hold tight.

It doesn't.

All I can do is cover my eyes as the contents of my clutch spill out and into the view of virtually everyone in the room who has stopped to stare at the commotion we caused. I hear the faints gasps and giggles as my phone, the six condoms, two ten dollar bills and the fake ID tumble to the floor right next to the brand new shiny handcuffs I brought with me.