I did remember the sound of her voice and the tone of it.
Calm and sure.
Even a touch casual, as though I hadn’t been waiting, anxious and desperate for any word of her since the last time we were together.
I couldn’t remember throwing on clothes, but my mind was clear by the time I made it to my garage.
I took my black Q7, because it had a bit more room, and I wasn’t sure what to expect.
I also recalled where she’d told me to meet her and why it was such a strange request.
It was that damned neon rave warehouse club where I’d had to pick her up from all those months ago, that same place where someone had slipped something into her drink.
What in all hell was she thinking to end up there again?
And when had she gotten back to town?
I would have to wait to find out, as she’d hung up before I could ask a single question.
I got some strange looks as I parked my Audi on the curb beside some kids painted neon and tripping out on God only knew what.
“It’s a cop, man!” one of them yelled, and I paused for a moment, looking down at myself.
I’d thrown on dark gray UA track pants and a matching tee, my unruly brown hair was messy as usual, and that looked like a cop to them? Or were they just that high?
It didn’t matter; I ignored them, walking past. Only one person in this mess of neon concerned me.
It only took a few minutes for me to scan through all of the partygoers lined up near the street. Iris was always easy to spot, so I didn’t have to look hard to know she wasn’t outside.
With a long-suffering sigh, I headed inside.
The doorman didn’t want to let me in, but I’d brought cash for just this reason.
I handed him a fifty, and he stepped aside without a word.
I stepped into a cramped, crowded hallway that seemed to go on forever. The place was a madhouse of loud house music pumping through the walls, and way too many people, all stoned out of their minds, occupying a very narrow space.
I plunged through the writhing bodies, scanning every head I passed.
No sign of her.
There was a second bouncer manning another set of doors at the end of the hall. He had the opposite reaction of the other guy.
He eyed me, top to bottom. “You Dair?”
That took me aback for obvious reasons, but I found myself nodding.
What the hell was going on now?
He nodded back, pulling a mouthpiece out of his collar that I hadn’t seen, and speaking into it.
This was a well-organized rave, apparently.
“We’ve got Dair here,” he spoke loudly into it. “Bruno, can you show him up?”
That done, he nodded again. “Bruno will be here in a sec to show you to her.”
I’d barely processed that when whom I assumed was Bruno showed up and waved for me to follow him.
He led me straight through the middle of the main room, which was packed with writhing bodies decked out in glow-in-the-dark paint, the dim, black lit room pumping color out as loudly as the DJ was pumping the music.
We made it to a staircase at the back of the room, squeezing through gyrating bodies. It was even harder to navigate through than that narrow hallway.
I scanned the crowd along the way, but it was no use, and besides that, it had sounded like Bruno was taking me to her. They must have been talking about Iris, because . . . who else?
Another bouncer guarded the base of the staircase, but he waved us through without speaking.
We went up a rickety set of metal stairs. I didn’t notice that the room even had an upper balcony until we were on it.
And there she was, decked out in glowing body paint (and hardly anything else), holding onto the rail that overlooked the revelry below, smiling with neon pink lips and shaking her ass.
She squealed when she saw me, rushing to throw her arms around my neck.
Without a word, she started kissing me.
She didn’t need rescuing. She hadn’t called me here for that.
I filled my hands with her exposed skin, thrusting my tongue into her mouth.
The balcony was much less crowded than the floor below, but we were far from alone.
As I pulled away from her to catch my breath, I glanced around. Almost everyone was dancing, and they seemed too far gone to notice anything beyond themselves.
I looked down to study Iris, cupping her jaw in my hands, trying to decipher if she was as out of her mind as the rest of them.
“Have you taken anything?” I asked her, having to pitch my voice loud to be heard.
Her eyes were clear, and she shook her head without hesitating. “I don’t drink or do drugs, Dair. I’m just here to escape my cage for a bit and do some dancing.”
I processed that as she started to tug me towards the wall.
I noticed something as I stared at the back of her head. I fingered the tips of her pale hair. “Is your hair pink?” I asked her.
She looked back at me, grinned and nodded.
I sighed out a breath, thinking that I was way too old for this shit.
Who was I kidding? I was born too old for the rave scene.
One part of me was still in 100%, and that was my traitorous cock. He was enjoying the hell out of a barely dressed Iris, painted top to bottom, hair dyed pink and ready to dance.
At the wall, there was a table set up as a neon body painting station.
Iris turned to face me, stepping very close, her hands going to the hem of my shirt.
She started pulling it up.
I stopped her, asking, “What are you doing?”