Senior Year Box Set

“Up to your standards?” she asked as her voice rose.

I had her where I wanted her.

“I’m David A. Dawson, the youngest ever Academy Award-winning actor. Since I won, I’ve had to put stringent criteria into place,” I explained with a straight face.

If Gina had been here, that statement would have confirmed everything bad she’d ever said about me. If I hadn’t been working Erika, I would have been appalled at the words coming out of my mouth.

“Like what?” she asked.

“They have to be older but not too old.”

“I’m not even going to ask about that,” Erika said.

That was fortunate because I hadn’t really thought this through. I was just trying to describe her.

“They have to be of a certain social class. A lady-in-waiting at a minimum.”

It looked like Erika had started to figure me out.

“So far, you’ve at least gotten past the initial screening process,” I said.

“Have I?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, brightening. “I had a wonderful time on our outing earlier. That’s why I agreed to take you out tonight.”

“I thought you already asked me out?” Erika asked doubtfully.

I ignored her stupid logic. It didn’t fit my narrative of events.

“Now I need to figure out how you move on the dance floor,” I said and leaned in closer. “They say you can tell a lot by how well someone dances.”

The waggling of the eyebrows might have given me away.

“Then take me dancing,” Erika said.

If this had been a movie, it couldn’t have worked out any better. Her driver pulled up as though on cue. The paparazzi asked where we were going, and like a ‘stupid boy,’ I told them.

In the back of my mind, I wondered if any of them had videoed me flirting with Erika. If we’d been back home, you could have banked on it. I hoped the rules truly were different here.

◊◊◊

La Rascasse had a line to get in. I grabbed Erika’s hand and pulled her to the front. The bouncer glanced at us, dressed to the nines for our night at the opera, and let us in without a question.

The pulsing bass hit us like a wall of sound, vibrating up through the soles of my feet. My eyes took a moment to adjust as I cut through the throng toward the bar. It was dark inside the club, the sizeable multi-level space illuminated only by the occasional flashing strobes overhead. Dozens of people were on the dance floor, shaking what God gave them to the beat of the music. Clearly, the line out front wasn’t a ploy to make it appear harder to get in than it was. In another hour, I bet this place would be so packed you wouldn’t be able to move.

A young woman stopped us inside and smiled. She obviously worked for the club.

“VIP section?” I asked.

“Right this way, sir,” she said.

Two guys in t-shirts with the club’s logo blocked the exclusive upper level, but they moved aside to let us pass. A group of attractive girls waited nearby, but the velvet rope closed behind us. I could only imagine two reasons to keep talent like that out of the VIP section: either there was someone important up there, or it was already full.

It wasn’t quieter up there because the upper level was open to the downstairs. If anything, the vibration from the massive speakers pointed at the dance floor was worse. I looked around at the brown leather couches facing each other with coffee tables in between to put your drinks on. Along one wall was a full-service bar.

The young woman led us to a couch across from the lead singer of the rock band that had attended the fundraiser. He was seated with four girls. I spotted a white powder on the table that he cut into lines with a credit card. He rolled up a hundred-euro bill and snorted two of the lines.

“Damn, that’s good.”

His head shook like Duke’s did when he got out of the water after chasing the ducks in the pond at our local park. One girl snatched the bill out of his hand while another distracted him with a kiss. The other two giggled like he’d said something funny. From their glazed eyes, they were all high.

I shook my head to the young woman who was finding us a spot to sit to let her know I didn’t want to deal with that all night. I didn’t need pictures of him doing drugs, with me sitting across from him, to hit the Internet.

She found us a secluded table towards the back. Erika leaned into the girl’s personal space and said something. She just nodded and left us alone. A minute later, a server came over with two shots. I picked mine up and sniffed the brownish liquid. I figured it had to be something devilish, but I drank it anyway.

My mother had told Ashley that I wasn’t to step into a casino or club on this trip, but Ashley was only the messenger. If my mother wanted me to not do something, she should tell me herself. I reasoned I was old enough to drink legally here, so why not?

Erika and I walked downstairs and claimed a spot on the dance floor. As I predicted, within an hour, the place was packed. The fun had gone out of it because it had become nearly impossible to move.

“Let’s get out of here,” Erika suggested.