Pulling my hood further over my head I looked around the “restaurant” which was pretty much just one of the craziest clubs I’d ever seen. For starters it was a backlight club, meaning that everything was glowing, people’s teeth, white clothing and the crazy face paint that decorated people’s bodies and faces. Lights pulsated making me feel light headed. And some song about a black widow filled the air, playing so loudly it vibrated in my chest.
“See anything?” Michael who was walking behind me muttered, pulling his hood further down.
“No,” I muttered.
Suddenly the walkie-talkie in my pocket screeched. Looking around nervously I pulled it out and handed it to Michael.
“What do I say?” I hissed.
“Generally I think you say something quite rude but I don’t think now’s the time.” I replied.
Shrugging, Michael brought the device up to his mouth, “Balls, does anyone copy, balls.”
“Michael, now it not the time.” Luke snapped.
“Okay fine, do you guys see anything outside?” Michael asked, referring to Calum and Luke who were scoping out the balcony.
“Negative.” Luke answered.
“Same,” Michael sighed, “Although it’s fucking sick in here.”
Swatting the back of his head, I looked around, and then I saw it. A guy, his face painted white, black paint, covering his lips and eyes, making him look like some sort of horrific skeleton, dragging a girl behind him towards the back of the club.
Frowning, I started to move closer, grabbing Michael and pulling him by the sleeve behind me, and then with a sinking feeling I realized I recognized the faded pinkish purple hair of the obviously highly intoxicated girl.
“Is that……” Michael whispered, “Gemma.”
Feeling sick I released Michael so I could push through the hordes of sweaty, drunk bodies on the dance floor, doing the same he trailed behind me.
Trying to keep my eyes on the floor and away from the flashing strobe lights, I pushed through he crowd until stopping inside of a massive pair of shiny black shoes. Looking up I found an enormous security guard in a suit blocking the VIP section where Gemma had disappeared.
I started past him, however chuckling he throw an arm out, nearly knocking the air out of me as he hit me in the chest.
“I don’t think so pal.” He laughed.
“No, you don’t understand, I have to get in there!” I cried.
“Yeah okay.”
“He’s not kidding let us in!” Michael snapped.
“Is your name on the list?”
“Yes!” Michael and I lied in unison.
“Alright then,” the guard chuckled, “Name?”
“That one.” I said, pointing to a random name on the list.
“You expect me to believe your name is Ping?”
“Fuck,” Michael grumbled, “Where’s Calum when you need him.”
“No, no, I’m sorry,” I laughed, “The one under that.”
“You expect me to believe you’re Iggy Azalea?”
“Yes?” I said slowly.
“No,” he laughed, “Now get out of here before I throw you out of the club.”
