Chapter 3: Events Unfold

(Beth's POV)

I hesitantly agree as I'm dragged onto the street. She waves down a taxi and quickly gives the older man the location of the club we are going to. "This is a good opportunity," I remind myself quietly. "What's the worst that can happen?"

I hadn’t expected a club of this size and quality. I’d figured it would be a hole in the wall, a sketchy place. Not one of substantial standards. We wait in line only twenty minutes and quickly jump in the crowds of sweaty bodies.

I follow Clara straight to the bar where she proceeds to hand me shots. I don’t want to get drunk, but I know that I'll have to at least drink a few. Maybe it will be good for me.

I stop at three shots, and I find myself already tipsy. Clara doesn’t slow down until at least seven. Maybe eight shots? By that time, she's extremely drunk and staggering onto the dance floor and allows herself to be pulled into the massive group of people once more.

I stay at the edge of the dancefloor and let myself enjoy the music and my buzz. I'm not stressed. I'm relaxed. While I would not recommend alcohol as a coping mechanism, I will definitely say it helps.

After about thirty minutes of dancing with a semi-cute guy that had staggered over to me, I excuse myself from him and find my way to the bathroom. The bathroom is lit very well with bright, cool-toned led style lights. I can hear a couple f*cking in the very last stall, while a woman cries in the first stall. That’s a relatable mood. Poor woman…

I take my time in the bathroom despite my spectrum of stall mates and finally after splashing cold water on my face was ready to return to the dancefloor. I'm not sure how long we’d been here, but I probably should find Clara. I haven’t seen her since she disappeared into the crowd.

The first thing I notice immediately after re-entering the dancefloor is that while the music still screams and echoes throughout, most of the drunk patrons are quickly moving to the other side of the club. Several things happen at once beyond that, that made my mind swim. Or maybe it was the alcohol. I dunno.

I can hear screaming and shouting beneath the music and in an effort to find the source, I'm grabbed by a large man covered in scars and tattoos. I try to swing and fight my way out, but I'm shoved painfully against a wall with a knife pressed to my throat.

“What the h*ll, dude?! Let me go! I didn’t do anything!” I shriek.

“Hold still and I won’t kill you. I gotta have collateral for something and you are a mighty fine piece of meat.” He mouths against my ear, his breath reeking of sour alcohol and weed.

I can’t help the whimper of fear that leaves my lips. Why did sweaty gross men have to harass me? I'm not a blonde. I don’t have blue eyes. I'm a freckled, brown-headed woman with hazel eyes. I'm average. What do gross men see in me?

The other men continue jeering and threatening the big guy holding me. Until the music stops. Taking the opportunity to cry, I did. “Please let me go. I don’t know what I did to offend you but I’m sorry. I just want to find my roommate and go home.”

“Quiet lady. You might make a fine present for the boss. Might get me back on his good side. Might be even nicer to me if I wrap you up like a present first, too.” He sneers with a grin, waving the knife in my face once more.

Before I could beg, I felt the knife tip dig into my skin and cut me. “Let. Her. Go. Vernon. My office. Now.” An accented voice demands to my right.

The man named Vernon drops me and my knees buckle, causing the room to spin. I sit on the ground shaking slightly as the tall Italian accented man cusses out the brute that threatened me.

He sends several of them toward a door not too far away from where we are standing, waves his hand, and the music starts back up again. People waste no time getting back into the groove of dancing. As if nothing ever happened.

At this point, the man kneels in front of me, extending a hand. His dark hair is slicked back with some kind of hair product, showing off his dark eyes. “Are you alright?” He asks.

I nod. “I think so. Just a bruised arm and a cut on my throat. It doesn’t feel too severe.” It isn’t but I think at this point, even if it was, I would have played it off as nothing. I am pulled to my feet and escorted to a back hallway and into another room where it is far quieter.

The man motions for me to sit down on the sofa. “What’s your name?”

Why does he want to know my name? Maybe for record purposes? I brush my hand against my neck to see that it is bleeding harder than I first expected. Great…I ruined Clara’s shirt.

He kneels in front of me with a cloth and a couple of bandages. “Uh… My name is Bethany Gale. Please just call me Beth. I hate my full name.” I wince as he dabs at my neck.

“My name is Anthony. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Although, I sincerely apologize that you had to meet me under these circumstances. I will personally deal with the idiots that harmed you this evening. Thankfully, you won’t need stitches and you should be fine to go home and relax.” Anthony smiles as he looks me over with a curious expression.

“What happened?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.

“Nothing important. Just dogs that aren’t trained very well.” Anthony answers, standing up after bandaging my neck. What?

“Never mind. I don’t want to know. Do you have any water that I can drink?” My mouth is dry and I'm still coming down from the adrenaline rush of almost being murdered.

“Certainly. Let me find you a snack to eat as well. Some sugar will do you good. Are you here alone? Or did you come with someone?” Anthony asks, disappearing through another backdoor. He returned with a bottle of water and a chocolate bar.

“No, I came with my roommate. I can’t find her though. I don’t know where she ended up.” I frown, gratefully accepting his gifts.

“What does she look like and what’s her name? I’ll go look for her.” Anthony offers, pulling a phone from his pocket.

“Uh… her name is Clara Harrison. She has caramel tan skin and brown eyes. Her hair is kinda frizzy and bleached. She’s wearing a sequin blue top and a miniskirt. She has a tramp stamp that’s visible just above her skirt.” Anthony types in the description and leaves the room.

Ten minutes later, he walks through the door with an intoxicated Clara. She grins at me like a goofy idiot and slumps against me on the couch. Great… It's going to be a long night.

“Is this her?” Anthony asks, clear disapproval in his voice.

I honestly feel ashamed for how drunk she can get. I nod.

“Is she on birth control or any contraceptives?” I nod again; this time very much afraid of where this conversation would go.

“Good. Because I found her in the VIP room f*cking another guy barebacked. Tell her to go get tested. I wouldn’t trust it.” I nod. “Also, Bethany, I’ve called for someone to take you home. Just tell him where you live, and he’ll go. I’m going to help you get her outside and into the car.”

He sounds irritated and exhausted. Never had I wanted to apologize to a man so much before.

“I’m so very sorry about tonight. Thank you for all your help.” I gratefully thank him.

He nods and helps me drag Clara outside to the car. Boy, I can’t wait to sleep.