The Passage (h.s)

Chapter Three

It's been six months since our move to LA and we've only been dancing once since we got here. The last club we went to was subpar at best and we vowed to never go back. The guys were creepy, the music sucked, and the drinks were too expensive. And believe me I needed more alcohol than usual to tolerate that place.

My ex-husband James is in town for a couple weeks visiting the girls and they'll be staying with him for at least a week. I'm not happy about it, but legally I can't keep him from the girls unless I have proof he's an unfit parent. It doesn't matter that we all know he's ill-equipped to parent two young girls, for now the law is on his side. The only thing that eases my mind is that I'm close by if I need to bring them back home.

He's living at an extended stay hotel while he's in town. There's no way in hell he's staying at my house, but the girls want to spend time with him, so this is the best way to handle the situation I suppose. He's agreed to take them to the beach and the movies during his visit. He'll probably follow through on his promises for once because he wants to be the cool parent.

Considering I'm a free woman for at least week Sam insists that we need to go clubbing tonight. She's not one to neglect her duty of making sure I have fun like a young adult should. She's right though, this night out is well overdue, and I deserve a break. In the past few months I've been learning how to take care of my own needs from time to time. It's a slow process but I'm making an effort and that's what counts, I grow a little every day.

The musicians Sam has been working with this week recommended a club for us to go to. I don't know a lot about the place other than it's exclusive, usually filled with several celebrities, and they play a mixture of music from hip-hop to trap. Both genres are either fun to grind to or get lost in on the dance floor. Sounds good to me, I can't wait to go out tonight.

Sam picks my outfit for the evening. I've been told this club isn't a little black dress type which is perfect because I hate wearing little black dresses. The wardrobe Sam has chosen for me consists of sexy black leather pants, calf high boots, a white silk low-cut cami, a long silver pendant necklace, and some mid-size diamond hoop earrings.

"Are you sure these pants aren't too tight?"

"Are you kidding me Will? We're going to one of the hottest night clubs in Hollywood, there's no such thing as too tight or too revealing."

"Ok, I guess I'll take your word for it."

I reply as I reluctantly pull the ridiculously snug pants up my thighs. That wasn't an easy task, I can't imagine how hard it'll be to take them off when I have to go to the bathroom or at the end of the night when I've been sweating for hours on the dance floor. I may need surgical scissors to remove them, but at least I'll look good right?

Sam looks amazing as usual, she's tall and lean and she's wearing fashionably ripped skinny jeans, an off the shoulder top and patent leather knee high boots, everything in black. Her chestnut brown hair is swept up in an unpolished bun and her outfit is minimally accessorized with silver jewelry.

I dry my hair and sit at the vanity in my room as instructed by my stylist. Sam curls my mahogany colored hair; it flows perfectly down my back in thick tendrils. After applying massive amounts of hairspray to salvage the curls, she cocks her head to the side contemplating her work, but she looks apprehensive.

"On second thought I'm gonna put these curls up in a high ponytail. It's too damn hot in a club to leave your hair down, and the curls will still look gorgeous hanging over your shoulders."

I nod my head in agreement. I have no desire to be sweatier than necessary in a public place, especially when there's a high probability I'll run into some random celebrity.

After perfecting my hair, she swivels me around in the chair to do my makeup. It's one of her favorite pass times, she can sit and watch makeup tutorials for hours with Lark. She always knows the latest techniques. Normally, I don't let anyone do my face, except for the two of them because their work is so natural. Sam uses power foundation, so my makeup isn't heavy, the work she does on my eye shadow, liner and mascara is flawless, and she's mastered the art of perfect highlighting.

"You're so lucky to have these lashes Willow, you have no need for extensions. I'm not going to lie, I'm jealous as hell. Do you know how hard it is to mess with eyelash extensions?" I shrug my shoulders. "Let me tell you, it's a pain in the ass."

"Maybe I was the one blessed with these lashes because I have zero talent when it comes to these sorts of things. You on the other hand know what you're doing and you're also much more coordinated than I am."

She chuckles at me for backhandedly insulting my own clumsiness.

"On a serious note, you don't need really need much makeup if any at all. Your skin is naturally beautiful, I don't ever want you to try and hide it. And remember what I always tell you. Any guy that falls for a girl with too much makeup on her face is in for an unpleasant surprise when he moves in with her and he sees her naked face every morning."

Sam says amusing herself.

"Sam you should get a second job working at the Mac counter. You'd be like a bartender who listens to people's life stories, but with makeup instead of alcohol. I think that sounds like a good hobby for you. I'll give you a good work reference."

She smacks me on my arm because I'm entertaining myself at her expense.

"Ha, you're hysterical. I honestly hope any guy who wants to dance with you tonight is prepared to be tortured by your dumb jokes. Get ready to be chastised for your lack of humor."

She shakes her head at me sarcastically.

"Don't pick on me just because you're wittier than I am. I have my own talents."

"Oh really, what are these magical talents of yours?"

I stutter looking for the proper comeback.

"I don't know...picking up younger guys."

"Okay Will, is that your final answer?"

"Shut up, this isn't Who Wants to be a Millionaire. Cut me some slack, I'm nervous. I haven't been out in a while."

"I know, which is exactly why my goal for tonight is to find the hottest young guy in the club, let him get you drunk and take advantage of you on the dance floor."

"Dear lord Sam you've lost your mind, haven't you?"

"Really? You're the one that told me you like to date younger guys because they're better in bed and they aren't interested in commitment."

I try glaring in her direction for her smartass comment, I can't help but hysterically laughing instead.

"Ok, you're right I did say that. But I think I was drunk when that happened?"

I know that sounds horrible, but I'm not promiscuous, not in the least. I've maybe hooked up with a random guy twice since my divorce. Sam and I flippantly make comments like this because we feel comfortable sharing our innermost thoughts. I'm not interested in a relationship right now, but maybe it wouldn't be a horrible thing for me to get laid every once and awhile.

"Nice try Willow you were stone cold sober when you told me that. Shame on you!"

Sam feigns disappointment in me as she grabs me by the wrist leading me towards the door. On our way out we snatch up our phones and I slip the keys into the palm of my hand. I lock the front door and now I take the lead dragging her towards the car.

"Let's go have some fun tonight shall we?"

"Ohh, let's."