🎵 “Hello” - Martin Solveig & Dragonette 🎵
Gold bangles jangle on her light brown wrist as she knocks the bar top. “Hey, Mil, all alone?”
Milly spins to face her. “Kevala, you look great!”
Kevala wobbles her head a tiny bit. “Coming from you, that means something.” Her straight, dark hair drapes over the straps of her tight, blue dress. “You OK?”
Milly sighs. “Ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?”
Kevala chuckles. “Every damn day. But we’re here tonight?”
“Fair point.” Milly smiles.
“Your skirt’s deluxe”—Kevala brushes the fur hemline—“whoa, real?”
Milly nods.
“Which brand?”
“Tailored.”
“Fur? How?”
“Rabbit. Hunted it myself.”
Kevala laughs. “Your desert humor: so dry.”
Milly stands, then curtseys.
“The other two are in the bathroom already. You know why.”
The four girlfriends squeeze into a stall and start chatting.
Milly says nothing about Heoh, getting punched, or her birthday.
One of Milly’s friends, eyes flitting above her broad grin, pulls an eyedropper from a fake lipstick tube.
Kevala politely refuses the drug. “I’m good.” She scoots off to dance.
The others each take a drop.
A minute later, Milly says, “I might feel something.” She leaves to find Kevala.
One friend takes another drop. “That kicked in fast!”
The other nods. “Milly didn’t chip in, but I’m afraid to ask. She’s such a magnet!”
The pair trot towards the dance floor.
Some random guy approaches Milly. She turns her back, flings her hair, and continues dancing by herself. Another tries. She ignores him, too.
The men refocus on Milly’s more receptive friends. The DJ from the train leaves the booth and the headliner takes over.
🎵 “Decoding Myself” – Waveshaper 🎵
After a blur of light and several songs, Milly announces: “I’m leaving.”
“No!” One friend pouts. “Why?”
“Leaving alone?” Another friend winks. “Didn’t find what you were looking for?”
Milly groans. “A home that feels safe?”
Kevala’s face sinks. “Shit, that’s deep.”
“At Ambrosia?” The other friends cackle. “Good luck.”
One raises her phone. “Girlfriends!”
Before she can snap a photo, Milly rolls her eyes and walks off.
While she’s fumbling in her purse near the exit, the DJ who approached Milly on the train marches over.
Milly looks up.
“Remember me?” His brow furrows with jealousy. “You missed my set talking with that older guy, then your friends. You didn’t even come say hello and I got you on the guest list.”
Milly sighs.
"Is he your boyfriend?" The DJ blathers, more words indiscernible from the thumping music.
She stares past him and wobbles.
The DJ changes his tune. “I’m acting childish.”
Milly perks up.
“I was naïve.” He shakes his head. “I should have known.” His face softens. "I’m sorry to have bothered you like this. You don’t owe me anything. I hope you enjoyed the club.”
They share a stare.
Milly reaches out, fingertips tracing lush contrast across his cheek. She leans in, easing her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him gently towards her, a smidge upward to her lips. When their kiss finally ends, Milly whispers into his ear.
His eyes widen. “OK. I’m Ethan, by the way.”
“OK.” Milly snaps her purse shut.
The male bartender looks in their direction, pushing his finger through the frame of Milly’s glasses. There’s no lens. “I should’ve been a DJ,” he mutters.
Up on the balcony, Kevala exhales, waving away a cloud of vapor. The sea breeze sweeps smoke away from the Moon.
A young woman stumbles over. “Can I have a hit?”
Kevala holds up her vape. “It’s just flavor, there’s nothing in it.”
The marquee glows above.
— AMBROSIA
Kevala peers over the railing to the street below. Milly’s getting in a taxicab with the DJ, who’s hauling his crate of vinyl records. “Milly, you sneaky little stray cat!”
Catching up to their taxicab is less effort than conveying awkward small talk, which can be skipped.
I'm really enjoying this. I'm supposed to be writing and working on a chapter, instead I find my self here reading one piece after another. That speaks volumes.