Putting his hands in the windbreaker he'd borrowed, he moved out of the way so Betty's friend could squeeze in next to Blay.
"John? You okay there?" Blay asked.
John nodded and looked at his friend, signing quickly, Just zoning out.
"Oh, my God," Betty said.
John shoved his hands back into his pockets. Shit, she'd no doubt noticed he'd used sign language, and this was going to go one of two ways: She'd either think he was cute. Or she'd pity him.
"Your watch is so hot!"
"Thank you, baby," Qhuinn said. "I just got it. Urban Outfitters."
Oh, right. She hadn't noticed John at all.
Twenty minutes later they finally made it up to the club's entrance, and it was a miracle John got in. The bouncers at the door surveyed his ID with everything but a proton microscope, and they were just starting to shake their heads when a third came up, took one look at Blay and Qhuinn, and let them all in.
Two feet past the door and John decided he wasn't into the scene. There were people everywhere, showing so much skin they might as well have been at the beach. And was that couple over there… shit, was that guy's hand up her skirt?
No, it was the hand of the guy behind her. The one she wasn't kissing.
All around, techno music blared, the shrill beats ringing through air that was stuffy with sweat and perfume and something musky that he suspected was sex. Lasers speared the dimness, evidently aiming right for his eyeballs, because wherever he looked they nailed him a good one.
He wished he had sunglasses and earplugs.
He glanced back at the couple-er, threesome. He wasn't sure, but the woman seemed to have her hands down both their pants.
How about a blindfold, too, he thought.
With Qhuinn in the lead, the five of them filed by a roped-off area that was guarded by bouncers the size of cars. On the other side of the steakhead barricade, separated from the riffraff by a wall of falling water, there were fancy people sitting in leather booths, the type who wore designer suits and no doubt drank liquor John couldn't pronounce.
Qhuinn headed for the back of the club like a homing pigeon, picking out a spot against the wall with a good view of the grinding on the floor and easy bar access. He took drink orders from the ladies and Blay, but John just shook his head. This was so not a good environment to get even slightly loose in.
All of it reminded him of the time before he'd come to live with the Brotherhood. When he'd been out in the world alone he'd been used to being the smallest one around, and man, that was true here. Everyone was taller than he was, the crowd looming over him, even the women. And it brought out all of his instincts. If you had few physical resources to protect yourself with, you had to rely on your twitchy senses: Two feet and hauling ass was the strategy that had always saved him.
Well, saved him except for that one time.
"God… you are so tight." In Qhuinn's absence, the girls were all over Blay, especially Betty, who seemed to think he was a stroking post.
Blay had no game, evidently, because he had no quick comeback. But he was definitely not brushing them off, letting Betty's hands go wherever they wanted.
Qhuinn sauntered over from the bar to the sound of brass balls clanging. Jesus, he was in his zone, two Coronas in each hand, eyes leveled on the girls. He moved like he was already having sex, his hips shifting with his stride, his shoulders doing the roll of a guy whose parts were in working order and ready to be used.
Man, the girls were eating that shit up, their eyes flaring as he came through the crowd.
"Ladies, I need a tip for my efforts." He slipped Blay one of the beers, took a swig of another, and held the other pair over his head. "Gimme a little of what I want."
Betty was on the ball, putting both her hands on his chest and stretching up. Qhuinn tilted his head a little, but didn't help her much. Which only made her work harder. As their lips met, Qhuinn's lifted into a smile… and reached out and pulled the other girl close. Betty didn't seem to mind in the slightest, and helped draw her friend in.
"Let's go to the bathroom," Betty stage-whispered.
Qhuinn leaned around Betty and laid a French kiss on her friend. "Blay? You want to join us?"
Blay threw back his beer, swallowing hard. "Nah, I'm going to hang out. Just want to chill."
His eyes called his bluff when they flipped to John for a split second.
Which pissed John off. I don't need a babysitter.
"I know, buddy."
The girls frowned as they hung from Qhuinn's shoulders like a set of drapes, as if John was being a buzz-kill drama queen. And they looked positively bitched when Qhuinn started to back off from them.
John pegged his buddy with hard eyes. Don't you fucking dare think of bailing. I will never speak to you again.
Betty cocked her head, her blond hair slipping over Qhuinn's forearm. "What's wrong?"
John signed, Tell her nothing is wrong and go get laid. I'm fucking serious, Qhuinn.
Qhuinn signed back, Don't feel right leaving you.
"Is something wrong?" Betty chirped.
If you don't go, I'm leaving. I will walk out of this club, Qhuinn. For real.
Qhuinn's eyes closed briefly. Then before Betty could something-wrong them all again, he said, "Let's go ladies. We'll be right back."
As Qhuinn pivoted around and the girls shimmied away with him, John signed, Blay, go get laid. I'll wait here. When his friend didn't reply, he sighed, Blay? Getcha ass going!
There was a moment's hesitation. "I can't."
Why?
"Because I… ah, I promised I wouldn't leave you."
John went cold. Promised who?
Blaylock's cheeks fired up bright as a traffic light. "Zsadist. Right after I went through the change, he took me aside after class and said that if we ever went out with you… you know."
Anger seeped into John's head and made his skull hum.
"Just until your change, John."
John shook his head, because that was what you did when you had no voice and you wanted to scream. In a rush, the pounding behind his eyes came back.
Tell you what, he signed. You're worried about me, give me your gun.
At that moment a smoking-hot brunette walked by in a bustier and a pair of pants that looked they'd been put on her with a Spackle trowel. Blay's eyes latched onto her and the air changed around him, his body throwing off heat.
Blay, what is going to happen to me here? Even if Lash brings it-
"He's been banned from this club. That's why I wanted to come here."
How do you… Lemme guess-Zsadist. Did he tell you we could only come here?
"Maybe."
Give me the gun. Get moving.
The brunette took up res at the bar and looked over her shoulder. Right at Blay.
You aren't leaving me. We're both in the club. And I'm really getting pissed here.
There was a pause. Then the gun changed hands and Blay downed his beer like he was nervous as shit.
Good luck, John signed.
"Fuck, I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm not even sure I want to do this."
You do want to. And you'll figure it out. Now go before she finds someone else.
When John was finally alone, he leaned back against the wall and crossed his little ankles. Watching the crowd, he envied them.
Not long thereafter, a shock of recognition went through him, as if someone had called his name. He looked around, wondering if Blay or Qhuinn had hollered for him. Nope. Qhuinn and the blondes were nowhere to be seen, and Blay was cautiously leaning into the brunette at the bar.
Except he was sure someone was calling him.
John got serious about the looking, focusing on the crowd in front of him. There were people everywhere, and yet no one in particular around, and he was about to decide he was nuts when he saw a stranger he knew completely.