Word has it that opposites attract. Jessica Keith would give the pithy expression two middle fingers because a wild party girl like her and the prim do-gooder, Matthew Parkinson are opposites hopeless to attract, let alone breathe the same air.
Howe...
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Matthew
"Your parents arranged a car for us?" Jessica gaped at him.
He nods.
"You have the best parents," she murmurs, giving a playful jab on the rib. "Is that our ride?" She asks, looking at the car pulling over.
"Yes." He smiles, feeling more proud of his parents than embarrassed, which he does most of the time.
The driver opened the car door. Jessica climbed in.
He followed suit.
When the driver clamber back in, Jessica leaned over, instructing the driver that they were not planning on going home yet. She gave him an address before turning to him.
"You've been to a nightclub before, right? Maybe at least once?"
Matthew doesn't know what to do. He doesn't want to lie. But he doesn't want to sound like a boring loser. The latter was tempting, but still, he doesn't have the heart to lie.
"No." He heard himself say.
She nods, unbothered. "Okay. It'll be another first time then."
"Another first time," he parroted.
"Mm-hmm. Let's see if this is something that you'll find fun." She winks.
"They're going to let us in with what we're wearing, right?"
She giggled. "Yeah. This is not one of those nightclubs. I don't want to overwhelm you with mobs of strangers writhing like worms."
"Okay. I'll take it I'm in good hands."
They went through moderate traffic, but if it was worse, he barely noticed because Jessica was there telling him about how her day went. And then he was telling her about his.
They passed a few clubs with lines running a mile long. And it seemed as though the later the night has become, the longer the line gets.
They were heading to the seacoast. He wasn't sure what Jessica have up her sleeve, but he trusts her completely.
A few more minutes later, they pulled up at a huge establishment – the only club that doesn't have a line of skimpy-dressed people. In fact, there's no line at all.
Even the bouncers don't even look like the typical ones. In the parking lot, are an array of cars with personal drivers in them.
This is not the usual nightclub he pictured out. The car groaned into a stop. The driver opened the car door.
"You ready?" Jess gave him a saucy smile.
"Ready but confused," he replies honestly.
She steps out of the car.
He did the same thing.
Jessica pulls at his sleeve and ushered him to the entrance. "Okay, so, you need a membership in this particular nightclub. My grandma owns this. She said it was a speakeasy in the 60s."
