Twenty-first birthday.
Comfort is disregarded when it’s your birthday. I think it’s a cardinal rule. I don’t like it. I’ve never been the type to put on a tight dress and high heels. I like comfort. Give me jeans and a t-shirt or sweatpants.
God, I love sweatpants.
But it’s my birthday and not just any birthday.
I’m twenty-one, and my friends refuse for me to go out in joggers and a hoodie.
“Well, you clean up nice.” Cora runs her fingers through my fresh curls and grabs my shoulder. “Close your eyes.”
“Cora.”
“Listen to her,” Jasmine says as she zips up the fourth dress she’s made me try on. “Because you need to be surprised with how amazing you look. Who knew all this was hiding under all those frumpy clothes.”
I smack her arm and chuckle. “You act like I never dress up. I did for graduation.”
“That was months ago!” Jasmine sounds appalled.
“Okay, enough. It doesn’t matter. What matters is how you’ll walk into the club tonight having men break their necks while looking at you because, damn, babe, you look hot!” Cora spins me around to face the mirror. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” I was ready to get on with the night and get home at a decent hour so I could crawl into bed and put on my favorite show I’d seen a thousand times.
I’m a creature of habit. I think that I partly blame my father. I grew up in a very strict household. My father is a powerful man with powerful enemies, so I was protected at all costs. My school was private with the best security. I don’t remember a day when I didn’t have a bodyguard. I’m so used to being alone that I’ve grown accustomed to it. I prefer it. I like not having anyone to impress, and it gives me time to think about myself and what I want.
“Okay. Open.”
With a deep breath, I do as she says, and I gasp when I see myself.
“Right? You look phenomenal,” Jasmine nearly squeals.
I take in my appearance and smile, feeling confident and sexy. I haven’t felt like this in—well—never. My long dark hair is curled, and my makeup isn’t too heavy, but a light shimmering color on my eyelids causes my coffee-colored eyes to pop. The dress is strapless and stops at my midthigh. Silver sequins glimmer in the light, and I already feel them scratching my underarm. I’m going to want this dress off in less than an hour, and the night has only started.
The heels are bright red, adding four inches to my height, and I tell myself I’ll soak my feet in hot water tomorrow because there’s no doubt they will be sore.
“But let’s not forget,” Cora sings, draping a sash over my shoulder.
“Buy me a drink. I’m twenty-one. Cash app is….” I dip my chin and blink at her. “Really?”
“Babe, you aren’t paying for your own drinks tonight. No way. Not looking like this.” She smacks my ass, and I giggle, snagging my purse from the chair in the corner.
“What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go.” I trip over my own two feet, and Jasmine catches me while Cora yelps. Clearing my throat, I straighten, rubbing my hands down my dress. “I’m fine. I’ll be okay.”
“Five bucks she falls by the end of the night,” Cora mumbles.
“Ten, she sprains an ankle,” Jasmine counters.
“I’m here. I’m still right here. I can hear you.” I walk out of my bedroom, taking the hallway slowly and carefully so I don’t trip in these heels again.
My friends giggle behind me, and our heels kiss against the hardwood floor. Its sounds like we are on a mission, and in a way, we are.
I know Cora is.
Jasmine is along for the fun, but in this group, it’s Cora who calls the shots.
“You look beautiful,” my father says as he stands from his chair. Like always, he is in a pristine suit. He kisses my cheek and snaps his fingers. “Marco. You stay with them at all times.”
“Dad, can’t I have this one night without a guard?” I ask so my friends can’t hear me. “As a birthday present? Please?”
He sighs, staring at me as if he is actually thinking about it. “He takes you to where you go and waits for you outside the building. He won’t go in. That’s my compromise.”
“Really?” I squeal way too loud because I never thought he would go for it. “Really?”
“Yes, really. But if you’re in trouble, you send him your code word.”
“I swear. I promise. Yes.” I bounce from the excitement.
“And what’s the word?”
He makes me say it every time I leave the house.
“Pizza.” Because it’s my favorite thing in the entire world.
He nods, leaning forward again to kiss me on the forehead. “I want updates. I want to know you’re safe. You have your credit card on you?”
“I do.”
“Good. Always get—”
“V.I.P. I know, Dad. I’m going to go. Thank you for letting me have a night without Marco. No offense, Marco.”
“None taken, Ms. Thompson. I understand the need for independence,” he says, giving me a small head bow.
“Okay. Go. Be safe,” my dad shouts from behind me. “And don’t—”
“Talk to strangers! Yeah, I got it, Dad.” I wave bye to him and smile, loving how protective he is of me, but he acts like I don’t have to talk to strangers every day.
Cora and Jasmine flank me, looping their arms through mine as we head down the marble steps of the estate.
“Ladies, where are you wanting to go tonight?” Marco opens the back door to the limo.
“Club Forty-Seven,” I say, and Marco grits his teeth together, his jaw flexing.
He closes the door before any of us can get in. “Anywhere but there. Your dad would never approve.”
“Marco. It’s my birthday. Please. It’s the most prestigious club in the city.”
“No,” he clips, leaving no room for argument.
“Fine.” I know when to cut my losses, but what he won’t know won’t hurt him. “How about Renegades?” Which is right down the street from Club Forty-Seven. I already have a plan percolating in my mind.
He nods and plasters a smile on his face, the kind that says he’s won this round. “Yes, that will be suitable.” He opens the door again, spreading his arm to allow us inside the car. “After you, Birthday Girl.”
“Thank you.” I duck my head as I climb inside, sliding against the leather seats while tugging down the dress as it hikes up my thigh.
Jasmine and Cora climb in next, and Jasmine heads straight to the minibar. She looks gorgeous in her plum-colored dress that hugs her curves. Her hair is up in a delicate twist with a few strands framing her face. She is effortlessly beautiful. The only makeup she has on is mascara. She has a natural, sultry look I’ve always been envious of.
The limo begins to move, and the partition is up, effectively blocking Marco’s eavesdropping. Jasmine passes shot glasses and twists the cap off to the bottle of tequila.
“To the best damn birthday night ever. Even if we can’t experience Club Forty-Seven. Renegades is still amazing.” She pours my shot glass to the brim, and I shoot it back, the burn in my throat not pleasant at all.
How do people do this all the time?
“I have a plan,” I whisper, and the girls lean in, mischievous smirks on their faces.
“Oh, rule-breaking Camilla. I like her.” Cora clinks her glass with Jasmine before shooting it down her throat without flinching. “What’s the plan?”
“We’re going to Renegades, but we’re going to sneak out the back and head to Club Forty-Seven.”
“You don’t think Marco will notice?” Jasmine asks.
“He isn’t allowed in, anyway. I’m not sure why I’m not allowed at Club Forty-Seven, and I want to find out,” I say. “I’m an adult. I should be able to make my own choices.”
“Hear, hear,” Jasmine cheers, lifting her shot glass.
There’s another item on my list that I haven’t told my friends about. I want tonight to be the night I lose my virginity. I don’t want it to be sweet and thoughtful or awkward. I want it to be in the moment with an experienced guy. I don’t want it to be a big deal. If I told Jasmine and Cora, they would call me crazy.
I’m an adult, a grown woman, and I want to experience the things women experience.
Cora has. Jasmine has.
It’s my turn.
While Marco drives, Jasmine turns on the music, and the neon lights in the back begin to flash. I press the button to the sunroof and stick my head out, feeling the warmth in my cheeks from the tequila as the night breeze hits my face.
Cora pops up next to me, then Jasmine, and we’re waving at people as Marco drives downtown.
“It’s her birthday!” Cora yells, pointing at me.
A stranger hoots and hollers, then shouts, “Happy birthday!”
Lines from the bars and clubs are a mile long, and I remember I haven’t eaten as I take in the smell of BBQ from the nearest restaurant.
I’m starving.
Marco pulls into the front of Renegades, and I dip down to take a seat, fixing my windblown hair. I’m nervous.
I’ve never gone against my dad or his security, but tonight is different. Tonight, I need to break away from the constraints and rules I constantly live by to make my dad happy. It’s time to be my own person without someone else whispering in my ear.
The back door opens, and Jasmine slides out, then Cora, and with a deep breath, I follow. Marco snags my arm and quirks a brow at me.
“What?”
“You smell like tequila.”
I roll my eyes at him. “We did a few shots in the back. I’m twenty-one now, Marco. I can do those. It’s the entire point for tonight. In fact, I might get sloppy drunk and tumble into the limo when you pick us up. Okay?”
“I’m not used to it, that’s all. As promised, I won’t be bothering you. I need to run a few errands for Mr. Thompson. Call me when you’re ready to be picked up. And remember your code—”
“—Marco. I’ll be okay.” I hug him, and he grunts, not expecting the embrace, but pats me on the back. “Thank you for being worried, but I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Marco has been my guard for as long as I can remember. He’s graying around the temples, but most of his hair is black, and his eyes are still sharp, calculating, and ready to kill.
“Be safe,” he whispers into my ear, slamming the back door shut before stepping away.
He’s the uncle I never had, not that he knows that, but it’s how I feel.
“Come on, let’s go!” Jasmine tugs on my wrist, yanking me from Marco.
She drags me across the sidewalk, and Cora loops her arm through mine as Jasmine marches up to the bouncer, bypassing the line. I could use my name to get us in, but I don’t want to.
“Well, what can I do for you, Beautiful?” the bouncer purrs to Jasmine, smirking and showing his straight white teeth. His biceps bulge against the material of his shirt.
“It’s my friend’s twenty-first birthday. We were hoping to skip the line to show her a good time,” she flirts, wrapping her hair around her finger, and Cora giggles into my ear as we watch Jasmine work her magic.
His hazel eyes land on me, and he looks me up and down. “Happy birthday, Gorgeous,” he says while clicking the red rope free to allow us in.
“Thank you,” I say shyly, barely able to meet his eyes.
“What the fuck! We’ve been waiting hours to get in!” someone yells.
“Send them to the back of the line!” another shouts.
The bouncer stands tall, towering over everyone, and bellows, “Shut the hell up. Say one more thing, and you won’t get in.” He opens the door for us and grins as if he has two different personalities. “Have fun, ladies. And maybe I’ll see you later,” he flirts with Jasmine.
“Maybe you will.” She winks, pulling us inside.
Neon lights flash brightly, changing from purple to blue to green, and the music thumps loudly, vibrating the walls.
A crowd of bodies gyrating on the floor grind against one another as the beat pulsates.
“Come on, let’s get to the back,” I shout, not wanting to stand here a moment longer than I have to.
Club Forty-Seven is the place I’ve dreamed about going to ever since it opened, and I won’t let playing by the rules of my dad influence that.
Taking Cora by the hand, Jasmine follows. We walk through the crowd, getting pushed and shoved. Someone’s cold drink spills onto my skin, and I flinch away.
It takes a few minutes to cross the club, bypassing grabby hands and drunken catcalls, but I don’t want to spend another second here.
We get as far as the bar, and I grab a few napkins to clean my arm.
“There’s a guard at the back entrance,” Cora sighs in defeat.
Jasmine takes it as a challenge. “You act like you haven’t flirted your way out of anything before.” She rolls her eyes and struts to the back door.
We follow to try to match her confidence. The wet napkin in my hand doesn’t help, and I toss it to the left, hoping no one notices. Keeping my chin up, I set my eyes straight ahead and locked on the target.
He’s bigger than the bouncer guarding the front and has his arms crossed. “This isn’t an exit, ladies.”
“Listen,” Jasmine inches forward. “You want to know the truth? We’re trying to escape a clingy ex and hopping from bar to bar to lose him.”
“He’s here?”
“He is, but it won’t matter if you throw him out. He’ll find us again. Please, let us go so we can just go home. He hasn’t seen us yet, but we have seen him and are ahead of the game. Please,” she begs, twisting desperation in her voice.
He nods, opens the back door, and then cracks his knuckles. “Give me a name, and I’ll make sure he isn’t welcome back here.”
“Simon Lee,” Jasmine answers quickly, naming her abusive ex-boyfriend.
“Stay safe, ladies.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much!” Jasmine kisses the bouncer on the cheek, and if I’m not mistaken, he blushes.
“It’s fine, but don’t tell anyone I let you go.”
“My lips are sealed.” She gestures to lock her mouth shut and throws away the key.
He shakes his head and shuts the door, leaving us standing outside by the dumpsters.
Gross.
“Let’s hope Simon pulls through tonight.” Cora chuckles.
“Finally, something good came from that man.”
“Come on. Let’s go see what Club Forty-Seven is all about.” Cora leads the way, her heels clicking in small puddles of questionable water.
A yellow muted glow reflects from the pavement because of the street lights, and the music is so loud from inside the clubs I can hear every lyric as we pass each building.
The night is promising, but promises mean nothing if they can’t be met.
