The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 4 - Exes and Oh's

We walk hand in hand to one of the few remaining dance clubs in Paceville. Sosa gets excited as soon as she hears the pounding music and starts wiggling her body to the beat as she goes up the stairs. I follow her out onto the crowded dance floor and that's when I see him.

My blood drains to my feet as I watch him toss a shot of clear fluid down his throat. He looks cold and sinister, almost haunting, under the strobe lights. When he looks up, our eyes meet and-

"Derek!"

Wait, what? Derek is here?

I turn around just in time to see Sosa making a beeline in the opposite direction towards a blond, lanky guy with a sullen but pretty face who is casually leaning against the wall, beer in one hand, phone in the other.

Oh no! No, no, no, no, no!

"Sosa, wait!" I skid in front of her, blocking Derek from view and hoping against hope he hasn't already seen us. "You cannot go to him like this. You've had too much to drink."

"Are you crazy?" she protests. "We just broke up and he's already... out and about? Enjoying himself? Getting his groove on? I told you there's someone else and I am going to find out who she is!"

She tries to go around me but I block her again. "Sosa, calm down," I shout over the music, grabbing her shoulders to keep her from running to him. "Think! If there was someone else, she would be with him. And besides, you're also here to enjoy yourself and get your groove on, remember?"

Wrong choice of words. But then again, there are no right words when Sosa is angry. "Do I look like I am enjoying myself?" she screams back angrily.

Sosa wobbles precariously on her legs and goes slightly pale. I take advantage of her momentary weakness and turn her around to face the other way. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Derek immersed in close conversation with a dark-haired, stocky-looking guy I've never seen before.

"No, you're right. You don't," I say, guiding her through the densely populated dance floor towards the small lounge area at the back. "But that's what we came here to do. So, let's just chill for a moment. I will get some water and then we can dance like there's no tomorrow, okay?"

I sit her down between two couples who are too busy to notice anything that's going on around them. Not the best seating arrangements, I admit, but at least Derek is no longer within her line of vision. "I'll be right back. Don't move, okay?"

She crosses her arms and legs and nods to show me that she's understood as she eyes the couple on her right with a grossed-out expression on her face. I rush to the bar and push through to the front of the queue. As I try to get the bartender's attention, a particularly stern voice cuts through the noise. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

I recognise him immediately and close my eyes as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. Turning around slowly, I find Mr Jeremy James Cordina a.k.a. The Boss, towering over me, tall and proud, his chest inches away from my nose. My knees almost give under the weight of his icy, blue gaze. His expression is cold and arrogant and I am suddenly reminded of his nasty phone call earlier today.

I don't know if it's the alcohol in my system or all the curve balls this night keeps throwing at me, but suddenly, my head flushes and my throat snaps and before I know it, my mouth takes charge and answers his question without passing it through a diplomacy filter. "I must be since you can't seem to keep your eyes off me. Even though you haven't actually spoken to me in, what? Four years?"p

For a brief moment, The Boss looks like I've slapped him in the face. But he recovers spectacularly and his own retort is instant. "I own the premises. It's my duty to have CCTV." Then, as though realising he needs further justification, he adds, "for security purposes."