She tugs me towards the bar. “Duh, it’s a club.” She sings, leaning across the wooden top and pressing her body down to push her tits out to get the bartenders attention. I come here often, but something about tonight…

There’s just something about tonight that feels different.

The lean bartender bypasses people that were here before us, showcasing Jade’s true talents. She calls herself a siren, but instead of luring men with her voice, she uses her body. “Hey, ladies.” The man grins at Jade, not taking his attention off of her.

She doesn’t pay him the same energy, she crooks her finger and slides it under my chin. “Shots?” She mouths.

I nod in her hands. “Definitely.”

“Coming right up.”

We down the two clear liquid shots of what taste like poison. “Martinis?” I suggest, wanting something a little tastier.

She sucks in a deep breath. “Fuck yes.”

I order a dry olive, and she orders orange. With our dainty drinks in hand, we carefully pass-through groups of people looking for somewhere to ‘Search’ as Jade puts it. “Over there.” Her eyes twinkle to the VIP booths.

To where the high rollers party, and I worry Dante is going to appear with his new arm candy tonight. Altitude is one of the nicest clubs in LA. Huge stages, state of the art lighting, the best drinks in the city. Jade’s gentle fingertips scorch my burning skin, “Calm down, he won’t come.” She assures.

“How do you know?”

She shrugs, “If he does, I’ll fuck him up.” She grins, her face so close to mine that I can smell her cotton candy breath.

“Promise?”

She nods, grabbing my hand to twirl me to the music. “Yes, now let’s get you laid!”

“Shh!” I shush her, unable to handle her outlandish mouth. The way she says what’s on her mind, at the worst possible times. We move onto the dance floor, hugging the edge so we can move to the music without getting the drinks knocked out of our hands.

I’m already a little tipsy, dropping the olive onto my tongue from the empty martini glass. That’s when I notice a tall, tan drink of water watching me. “Jade.” I whisper in her ear as she dances on me.

“Huh?”

I nudge her. “Three o’ clock.”

“Oh,” she coos. “Jason Mamoa type.”

He isn’t a drink of water, he’s a stout glass of vintage whiskey.

And I’m in the mood to burn tonight.

I continue dancing to the music, letting the alcohol control my body and ever so often, I’ll make burning eye contact with the behemoth of a man. Tonight, I’m going to be less like Macey and more like Jade. “Exactly my thoughts.”

“Well,” She grabs my hand, “no reason to waste any time. Let’s go see him.”