Let's Start A Riot

Chapter Eighteen - Bustin' Moves

Marcus and I walk stiffly side-by-side to the small queue at the entrance of the club. We keep a considerable distance between us and are silent until we are two or three people back from the bouncer, a little buzzing noise coming through my earpiece which I realise after a few seconds is Hugo talking. "Are you two trying to blow the mission before we've even started? Why are you standing ten feet apart? We need this to look convincing because don't forget, we are being graded on this because they'll watch this footage back when we get back to base and you also must be convincing for the dealers so that you don't blow your cover because they know we're onto them, so they'll be on the lookout for enforcement looking people. You need to practice before you go anywhere near them because this is a terrible performance so far – hold hands or something!" Hugo rants through the earpiece, making me wince.

I glance at Marcus, who is looking at me as though I'm a slimy, wrinkled alien, his gaze flickering to my hand, his nose wrinkling in contempt at the sight of it.

"Oh, for god's sake, do what Hugo said already! You're acting like preteens at a school dance!" Sarah snaps into the earpiece.

Finally, Marcus roughly grabs my hand, intertwining my fingers with his while exhaling an extremely dramatic sigh.

After a minute or two, we get to the door.

"ID." One of the large security bouncer's orders.

He is almost as tall as Marcus, with bulging muscles and an extremely bored look plastered on his face. Marcus pulls out both of our IDs from his pocket which he had taken out of my purse and his wallet as soon as we joined the queue to make our entry to the club smoother.

He hands them to the bouncer to check, who scans over them quickly, checking our date of birth's and matching our pictures to our faces.

The bouncer gives a disgruntled nod, handing back the IDs. "In you go."

Marcus moves past the bouncer, pulling me along with him by my hand that is already aching from the tight grip he has on it. We walk through a short, dark hallway that is filled with people waiting to pay their entry and receive a stamp. Marcus pays for both our entries when we get to the window and we both hold our hand out for the purple club stamp. Finally, we move through the open double doors at the end of the hallway that leads to the main room of the club, blasted with the sound of the music and the people already in the club screaming and singing.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?" The taunting voice of Hugo echoes in my ear.

"Shut the fuck up." Marcus mutters under his breath.

The dance floor is already packed, bodies moving everywhere, people leaning against the bar and occupying the tables and booths set to one side of the room. If this is how busy it is now, I don't even want to think about what it will be like later when everyone moves from the smaller pubs and clubs to this one.

Marcus tugs on my hand again, pulling me straight towards one of the only empty tables in the corner of the room. He lets go of my hand as soon as we were near enough to the table that we won't get separated and sits down in one of the seats.

I sit in the other seat across from him and turn to look at the dance floor, at all the people laughing, dancing with their friends, dancing against random people they'd picked up on the dance floor, couples locked in embrace already.

Something in me aches watching them, having never even been to a club before, only dingy little pubs in my hometown that close before midnight, and even going to those was a very rare occasion I was allowed.

I hear another huff come through my earpiece. "What don't you two get about looking coupley?!"

I can hear the aggravation in Hugo's voice, who I know will be watching Marcus and I ignore each other while we sit in silence at our table surveying the dancing crowd, through the CCTV footage that he has access to.