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first person pov
I looked around, shaking my head that I had actually believed my brother. He said we were going to a club, on Wall Street. Yet somehow, we'd ended up at a beach club in Brooklyn.
A part of me was thankful in honesty. While yes, this "club" technically did have a bounced and everything, it was a bit more lowkey. Not every racist investment banker on Wall Street was trying to get into this one unlike the club which was previously in our plans.
I had lost Emme and Carlos from the moment we got there. I had no doubt that his tongue was down her throat right this second.
That's a gross image. I shuddered at the thought.
Instead, I'd found company in Farah and Jason, two of my brother's friends.
"I'm honestly surprised we managed to even get in here." Farah laughed, as we strolled on the beach.
"Honestly same, this place was way more exclusive than that Wall Street club." Jason chimed in.
"Oh is that why we came here instead?" I questioned, receiving nods from both of them as answers.
"Some of the guys changed their mind when they heard some PSG footballers might be here. Emme made the final call since she said Carlos might like it better too." Farah elaborated.
I nodded again. Eventually, Farah and Jason left me to go get some beers.
I decided to wander inside the beach club, people watch maybe. I was not in the mood for socialising and drinking while being sleep deprived didn't seem to mix very well. The mood was quite low key, except for the long line leading to a heavily guarded door.
What was everyone in line for?
I wandered around for a few minutes and watched as the line gradually dispersed. I took my chance and went up to the bouncers. The amount of security seemed to have multiplied since I'd gotten here.
"What's everyone waiting in line for?" I asked, tapping on the closest bouncer.
"Your ID please." The man did a once over before checking my drivers license.
His eyes bulged out when he saw the picture. He called over someone else as they compared my picture with something else.
"It has to be her. Maybe she's under a fake name for security." I heard them mumble.
"Who do you want to see Miss?" They questioned.
I shrugged my shoulders nervously, "I don't know. I heard PSG's here."
That did it apparently. Because they nodded and opened the door for me. I watched as the others in line gaped at the door's opening. It was almost as if it was some exclusive, VIP sort of thing within an already particular club. I walked down the long hallway the door was opened to. It was dark, dimly lit. I texted my brother, Emme, and the others in case I died.
