Chapter Sixteen

Samantha wasn’t sure how she managed to make it through the rest of the week, but somehow she did. Half the time, her mind was spinning with thoughts of Richie; the other half of the time it was threatening to turn to thoughts of Shane. It was overall exhausting – whenever her mind was on Richie, Samantha was desperate to be with him again, and whenever it was on Shane, she was desperate to think of something else.

When the clock finally ticked to 5:00 on Thursday evening, she let out an impatient sigh, threw the magazine layout she was working on into a drawer, and closed up shop, letting everyone go home early for a 3-day weekend.

Instead of their original plans for shopping on Fifth Avenue, Alex had called earlier to suggest they hit up Noche Caliente, one of the hottest clubs on the East Side, for Ladies’ Night. Alex insisted that Samantha needed to get out and do something with the girls for once. Samantha privately agreed, although she wasn’t about to give Alex the satisfaction of knowing her “like a book,” as she liked to frequently gloat.

Samantha stopped by her apartment to change and shower before heading out. An hour later she emerged into the tepid New York spring evening, looking beautiful, but modest, in a wine-colored off-the-shoulder silk top and tight dark blue jeans, which hugged her slender curves. She wore her favorite brown suede boots, the ones with just enough heel to look sexy, but comfortable enough to wear for an evening. She had left her hair down, but tossed some gel into it first, making it wave and curl around her shoulders and face.

She hailed a cab and got in the backseat, her thoughts shifting again unfavorably. She didn’t know what was wrong with her – how weak did you have to be to turn into an emotional wreck at the very mention of an old flame? Samantha was angry with herself for dwelling on Shane so much; it wasn’t like she had run into him somewhere. That would have been a lot harder to deal with than merely hearing about him and his life lately.

She supposed what bothered her so much was the fact that while she had had to deal with the painful aftermath of his infidelity for years following, he seemed like it hadn’t affected him in the slightest. In that picture on the contracting company's website, he didn’t look the least bit “wounded” or “emotionally scarred” or whatever people were supposed to look like in pictures years after a traumatic break-up. But this isn’t a friggin’ daytime soap, Samantha shook herself angrily. This was real life, they were real people, and he had moved on like she had.

Better than she had, apparently.

But then again, he was the one who cheated. He was the one without a heart or morals or any regard for his wife. Why would he be emotionally screwed up? He was responsible for the choice he made.

No, perhaps the biggest thing that unsettled her was the fact that he had been so close all these years. He was a big-shot contractor for New Jersey, which meant he frequented the general area. The website article had said he obtained his Master Degree from the University of Pennsylvania. That made sense to Samantha because she had generally assumed – perhaps naively, she now thought – that after their divorce was finalized, Shane had moved away. Started a new life. Married someone else. Became integrated in another area, another region of the country that was foreign to Samantha and therefore not a part of her life.

But no. He had remained local, albeit a few hours away for graduate school, and moved on with his life as he pleased, pursuing a higher level of education and working his way to a prominent position in a wealthy occupational field. The concept was unsettling: he had been in her vicinity, roaming around in her life’s sphere, however inconspicuously, part of her world, and yet not at the same time. She almost felt cheated (ironic feeling) to know that while she had been under the impression that he was far away and out of reach, he was right around the geographical corner.

Samantha sighed and gazed out at the twilight, frustrated and sad. She couldn’t help but wonder if he ever missed her like she, despite being angrier than hell, had missed him at times in the years following their breakup.

She finally shook her head and forced herself to focus on the evening ahead. She was going out with Alex, damn it, and she was not going to let Shane ruin it. He had too much control over her life already, and he hadn’t even spoken to her in a decade. She had to take control.

______________


Alex met her at the corner across the street from Noche Caliente, looking stunning as usual in a black miniskirt and matching halter-top that accentuated her full chest; black knee-length leather boots clung to her legs.

Samantha whistled. “Trying to outdo me?”

Alex tossed her long blonde ponytail and smiled. “I don’t have to, school-girl.”

They crossed the street and joined the growing line of people waiting outside the doors. The bouncer let them in with a smile – actually, leer was more like it – staring pointedly at Alex’s chest.

“I have a feeling we’d get in for free even if it wasn’t Ladies’ Night,” Samantha smirked, making Alex grin.

“Hey, if you got it, flaunt it, I always say.”

They entered the club, greeted with a blast of heavy bass and the smell of perfume and sweat. Neon-colored lights flashed and spun, giving the otherwise dark interior a bold, mysterious look. Figures moved in silhouettes through the hazy smoke, dancing, laughing, and drinking; the people were loud and the music louder. The atmosphere was heavily Latin, but catered to the Park and Lexington crowd as well – a sort of upscale gathering for corporate people who actually knew how to have a good time. Sam and Alex moved through the crowd, searching for an open table, but finding none except for a small, private booth in the back.

“I guess this is good as any,” Alex shouted over the music. “Want me to get the drinks?”

Samantha nodded, motioning that she’d stay there. She settled into the booth and scanned the crowd, taking in the scene. Noche Caliente was large for a club – from her vantage point, she could see both the dance floor and the entrance to the downstairs VIP lounge. There was also an upstairs, she knew, with another VIP lounge and an upscale restaurant, which she had no doubt was well out of her price range. She saw Alex over at the bar, and even from a distance could tell the bartender liked her: his smile was almost as leer-ish as the bouncer’s.

Eyes still on the bar, Samantha watched the people stationed at it. She liked to watch people, their secret lives always masked by their public facades. There seemed to be a melting pot of culture just in that one spot: a beautiful, busty Latin woman dressed in a classic red salsa dress who was chattering away with a lusty-eyed middle-aged man, whom Samantha assumed (for no apparent reason other than stereotype) was married; a much-too-skinny brunette who was trying, and failing, to catch the eye of a cute guy across the bar; an older woman, wearing too much eye makeup and a top that was just wrong on someone her age, nursing a martini with a scowl on her face; and a young blonde couple on the far end whom Samantha couldn’t see very well – the girl clad in a blue mini dress and the man in a suit, looking like he had just come there from work, though the tie was loosened and the jacket off.

Alex returned with two giant cocktail glasses and set one down in front of Sam. “Cosmopolitan,” she announced. “Just to start off.”

They clinked their glasses and drank, the familiar burn of vodka stinging Samantha’s throat at first swallow. She wasn’t a heavy drinker, but she wasn’t a total pansy either: she could usually hold a couple of drinks before she started turning incoherent. Alex, on the other hand, could down a dozen straight and hardly get a buzz. Which really wasn’t all that surprising, Samantha thought. Alex was a pistol.

Alex swallowed half her drink in one gulp and took Samantha’s hand. “Come on,” she instructed. “Let’s get your ass moving.”

Samantha laughed and followed her friend out onto the dance floor. Alex immediately began moving and grinding with some cute guy nearby, but Samantha felt guilty doing any grinding when Richie wasn’t there. In fact, she felt guilty doing anything more than a waltz with anyone other than Richie; it just didn’t feel right. She danced a bit with Alex and somehow avoided the men who kept sidling up to her, politely keeping enough physical distance to ease her wary mind.

After about ten minutes of dancing in that vein, Alex grew impatient with her. “Samantha, for Heaven’s sake, it’s all right to move a little and have some fun. Richie knows you’re faithful!”

Samantha smiled, but continued to feel awkward. “I’m going to go get another drink,” she held up her empty glass. Alex rolled her eyes and continued dancing.

Samantha made her way to the bar and ordered another Cosmo, then wandered back to their table and sat alone, sipping and observing. Alex didn’t join her at first, and she found that she didn’t mind at all – she was content to just watch the scene for now.

About fifteen minutes later, Alex returned to the table, fanning herself and mentioning that she needed another drink. She retreated to the bar and came back with a bottle of Sam Adams in one hand, a Sex On the Beach in the other.

“I know you’re not supposed to have alcohol when you’re thirsty, but a cold beer just sounded so good,” she took a pull from the light amber liquid and handed the other drink to Samantha.

“Drink it, Sam. You need to loosen up and let out the wild tigress in you.”

Samantha snorted. “The wild tigress?”

“Well, something more exciting. You’re a freaking kitten right now!”

Samantha smiled, then figured, what the hell. She wanted to loosen up. She wanted to have fun tonight – damn it, she needed to have fun tonight. It had been too long since she went out and partied mercilessly, and if alcohol was the only thing that would lower her inhibitions and melt away her resolve, then so be it.

She tossed back half the fruity vodka in one gulp, managing to keep the burn under control.

“Atta girl,” Alex smiled. “Now get out here with me, find a cute guy, and dance.”

She led Sam back out onto the dance floor just as the DJ started up a new song. Samantha recognized it from the first few chords, and she looked at Alex wild-eyed. "Listen!" she squealed excitedly. It was Bon Jovi's 'One Wild Night', the perfect club song for a night like this.

Alex smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Well, duh, you nerd, who do you think requested it?"

The crowd was taking to it just as they should, and Samantha felt the uncontrollable urge to 'bump and grind' along to the music. She winked at Alex. "Not sure, but she has excellent taste!"

They both moved in among the sweaty bodies and joined in, singing along at the top of their lungs and not caring who saw them.

She danced with several guys, and Samantha was surprised at how nonchalantly she was able to interact with them. Never once did she feel as though she were cheating on Richie; this was just innocent fun on a night out with her best friend and a club full of strangers.

Around eight-thirty, Samantha was sweaty and tired, and motioned to Alex that she was going to the restroom. Inside the dimly lit tile-covered room, she splashed cool water on her face and touched up her makeup a bit. She studied herself in the mirror for a minute, then, satisfied with her looks, went back out to find her friend.

She found her back at the table with another drink, and she joined her, sliding in on the bench with a happy sigh.

“This is so much fun – thanks for getting me out there, Alex.”

Alex waved her away. “It’s what I’m here for, sweetie – when you’re timid and shy and careful about your decisions, it’s my job as your best friend to tell you to suck it up, throw caution to the wind, and get your ass out there.”

They laughed, and Samantha felt free and light. She was in a damn good mood – she knew it was mostly from the alcohol, but it was so good to get out on the night scene again.

“Sam, look, hottie at three o’clock – he’s coming this way,” Alex motioned inconspicuously to her left – Samantha’s right. Samantha turned. The smoke and thick throngs of people made it hard to make out his face very well, but she could tell it was the blonde guy she had seen at the bar earlier. He was coming their way, and Alex flipped her ponytail again, preparing her best “flirty face”.

Samantha frowned. “Alex, that guy has a girlfriend – I saw them together earlier.”

“Maybe it was someone else he was trying to pick up, like us,” Alex was too preoccupied with eyeing the stranger to realize what she was saying.

The blonde guy got closer, and Samantha was able to see him better now. She felt a sense of familiar recognition, though she couldn’t place it with the buzz she had developed. She scrutinized him more closely, and it suddenly hit her with a jolt, her good mood evaporating instantly.

“Shit,” she breathed, looking down at her glass and praying he wouldn’t see her, which was, of course, stupid, as she and Alex were the only ones at the table. “You have got to be kidding me…oh, God, please, no….”

Alex barely had time to look at her before the stranger reached the table.

“Good evening, ladies,” he smiled, and Alex’s jaw fell open slightly before she spoke.

“Good…evening,” she looked at Samantha, who was still doing her best not to look at him.

After a brief second she kicked her under the table, and Sam glared at her. She didn’t have to be polite. Not if she didn’t want to.

“Good evening,” she said shortly, not meeting the guy’s eyes.

“Would you care to dance?” the guy wasted no time and held out his hand to Alex, who looked back at Samantha again, this time for help.

Excuse me? Samantha felt a surge of anger, which surprised her, and she gave Alex a meaningful look. Tell him to fuck off, she thought, trying to communicate telepathically.

Alex stuttered. “I, ah…”

That was it – Samantha’s blood was boiling. She stood up quickly and faced him. His blue eyes were slightly glassy, and she could smell the booze on his breath as he watched her curiously. She spoke before she could stop herself, the alcohol giving her a boldness she never would have had sober.

“Well. You certainly haven’t changed, have you?”