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Storm
Standing
at the long, glass-topped bar of Starlight, scrunched between Dan and Shane,
Storm felt safe. Her vision from
earlier tucked away in the recesses of her mind, she allowed the thrumming
classic rock of the club to ripple through her.
Christmas lights twinkled above, lining the ceiling, and below her
beneath the plexiglass floor. The same
lights trimmed the bar and liquor shelves.
Starlight was the hip, new club according to her friends. They were clearly channeling some sort of big
hair band vibes this evening forcing Storm to stifle sarcastic comments all
evening. She was bored. Other than the music, she found nothing
appealing about Starlight. Her foot
refused to stop keeping beat to the medley of Jimi Hendrix, The Doors, Boston,
and Lynyrd Skynyrd. Okay, so the music
struck a chord and the boys had agreed to unload her entire truck and help her
unpack if only Storm would accompany them for the night. They even offered to buy her drinks. Her guilt over sending them away coupled with
the scrumptious pizza they’d delivered, well, she gave in right quick.
The
worst part of the experience had to be the get up they’d produced for her. With all of her clothes packed away in the
truck she couldn’t very well argue.
Storm dolled herself up - as in completely out of her element. In fact, she looked like a pin-up. Every time Storm caught a glimpse of herself
in the enormous floor to ceiling mirrors behind the bar she cringed. It was uncomfortable only for the fact that
men were staring at her and the only thing that staved their awkward advances
remained her two beautiful companions.
Storm felt painfully aware that she was not the typical fare for
Starlight; the snug-fitting pencil skirt and off the shoulder top stood out in
the crowd of spandex and sequins.
Perhaps she’d gone a touch too far with the 20s style coif. She cursed herself for listening to Dan and
Shane.
“Stop
fidgeting, Storm. You look
amazing.” Shane’s whisper tickled her
ear and the compliment made her even more uncomfortable. Retreating behind the glass in her hand,
Storm eyed her co-dates. She didn’t get
it. They could have anybody in the bar;
she’d seen the droves of women watching the pair hungrily and shooting her
death looks. Still, they flanked Storm,
in the middle of the long bar, and fed her drinks and popcorn in attempts to
force fun down her throat. Storm
mentally checked herself; she had to give them more credit. Dan and Shane were not the average
body-building, superficial thugs and she accepted that nobody could call her
hideous.
Sighing,
Storm placed the empty glass on the bar and gestured for another from the cute
bartender, half clad in stylishly tattered jeans slung low on his hips, low
enough to let the world know he sported nothing underneath them. Baron, that was the name he’d given her. Right.
Storm could only think of Snoopy and the Red Baron when she looked at
him now. That’s what usually
happened. Something would turn her off
so she could no longer look at a man with even remote sexual interest. Dan and Shane were the same. Though she still wished she would feel
something more toward them, it just didn’t happen. Storm would always see them as the Hardy
Boys, much worse since they’d become police officers. She didn’t even really know where the
correlation had come from. It just
happened one day when they were at a football game, sophomore year
perhaps? She couldn’t be certain. Regardless, to Storm, Dan and Shane were
beautiful to look at but it ended there.
Sad but true. She sighed again as
the Red Baron placed a drink in front of her and attempted to undress her with
his eyes for the tenth time that night.
Turning
back to watch the crowd milling about the dance floor in odd rhythms, Storm
felt a ripple down her spine and nearly dropped her glass. Dan’s arm found its way around her waist in
an instant and concern flooded his face.
“I
am fine, just turned too fast.
Really. I probably just need to
slow down on the drinks a bit.” Turning
her most reassuring smile to Dan, Storm slipped out of his embrace and leaned
against the bar. His face fell and she
knew it. They’d been friends for years,
since childhood, and when she’d returned, Storm looked the guys up first. Well, she’d only looked the guys up. Storm found out that they’d kept the
postcards she sent them from her various locations but knew her well enough to
leave it alone. It was comforting to
know they’d kept her secret – until Trin’s death. She felt grateful they’d outted her for
that. The hairs on the back of her neck
stood on end. Something was coming. Something she did not want to deal with. Dammit.
How could she get the Hardy Boys to leave now?
“On
second thought, I am not feeling too hot.
Maybe you boys could get me home?”
Storm feigned balance problems and put her arm around Dan’s waist,
leaning into his warmth. That did the
trick; she felt his breath catch for a moment and then his arm around her in
return. They followed Shane as he weaved
his way through people and random tables toward the door. Storm didn’t see who Shane nearly collided
with but she heard the apologies. Her
body reacted to the stranger’s voice, a blend of silk and iron, coaxing and
offending at the same time. She went
rigid, that voice seemed familiar somehow.
Before
she knew what happened, Storm found herself seated in the back of her Beetle
and speeding toward Willow Wood. She
felt lightheaded and realized the she had actually consumed more alcohol than
she should have. One of the guys carried
her in and laid her in bed. Storm fell
asleep to their hushed argument, making out a few words in her drunken haze,
something about immortals and almost blowing it. Then her focus became convincing herself not
to wretch. She failed miserably and
stumbled drunkenly to the bathroom.
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