Promise Me to Please | Please Me #2

TWO

The Incubus was always busy on a Friday night.

  Ezekiel and I were glammed up and ready to go as we approached the bouncer. He looked us up and down. This must've been a new bouncer because they usually just let us in because we were so regular, but this time I had to reach up to say in his ear, "Rya Martin-Monet."

  Within a millisecond of hearing the name, he nodded and stepped aside to let us through.

  Martin-Monet wasn't my actual last name, McCoy was but Martin-Monet got me in more places. You see, my parents met in college. My dad went on to become a successful cardiologist and my momma an executive assistant for one of the top fashion designers in America. When I was four, they divorced and only a couple years later did my momma meet the famous Parisian model Arielle Monet and they got together.

  They joined forces and created Martin-Monet which now reigned as currently the top fashion brand in Paris, London and Milan as well as one of the highest in all of America too. Call that couple goals. I loved Arielle and even though I called her by her name to her face because that was what she felt more comfortable with, I always referred to her as a mother when she wasn't around.

  My parents were never bitter about their divorce. In fact, my dad allowed my momma and Arielle to live in his house whenever they weren't busy touring or working. I spent practically all my summers in Paris, London, even New York with them and the rest of the time with my dad in Wisconsin. I was lucky to have the healthy dynamic that they did, I knew some kids weren't so fortunate.

  True, I was generous in the way I used to Martin-Monet name. Not to the point where everything got handed to me. My dad taught me from an early age that being in a position like ours gave us privileges but also explained to me that without him or my moms, I wouldn't have any of it and so if I wanted to be successful, I'd have to work for it.

  And I was. Boy, was I working for it.

  However, when it came to clubbing and events, of course I used the Martin-Monet name. Who wouldn't? I didn't have the time to wait in the freezing cold, allowing my friends to shiver their butts off, when I could get us in so easily.

  So, here we were.

  The Incubus consisted of three floors; the ground floor was the main club area with a DJ and bars lining the walls, then there were stairs up to the second floor that rimmed around the outside of the club which worked as the V.I.P section, then you had the rooftop which was mainly reserved for private events but sometimes it was free and they played more of the old-school music and served the best cocktails.

   "Home sweet home." Ezekiel gave a charismatic grin as we took in the aroma of sharp alcohol, blaring music, and electrifying warmth of crowds of dancing bodies.

  We made our way to the bar to pick up some shots before making our way to the dancefloor. The music vibrated against the walls, bouncing off the vibrantly lit floor switching between a serenade blues and purples.

  The air was thick with ardour, exuberant with a kind of intoxication only the sweet, hot potence that simmered between bodies that burned with such vibrancy could create. My body got lost in the music before I could register my feet moving.

  The club scene was one of the things I fell in love the fastest in New York City. I got to let go, pretend for a few hours I was nothing but some random girl drinking and dancing her life away with not a care in the world.

  No responsibilities. No worries. No stress.

  That old comfort feeling was replaced with something I rarely ever felt. Freedom. I got to be whoever I wanted to be because what cared what a bunch of drunk nobodies thought?