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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1307102
Rated: 13+ · Novel · Comedy · #1307102
A wild tale full of faeries, elves, demons, other magical and/or weird characters.
The fourth part of Sanity's Edge! Things are getting better, aren't they? Enjoy!



Ryuu

         Oh, the joys of mental torture! I restrained myself from clapping my hands when Kyra suggested (and by suggested I mean commanded) that Hibiki and I talk out whatever was going on, with her as the middleman. Or middlewoman. Whatever.

         “All right. Let’s get started,” Kyra said, plopping onto the couch as Hibiki and I sat and faced each other on the floor. “Now, Hibiki. I want you to state what’s bothering you so much.”

         “Well…Ryuu is making me uncomfortable,” he admitted. I chuckled inside my mind, keeping a wide-eyed, innocent look on my face. Kyra nodded gravely, pushing up round glasses that I suspect she snatched from my dad’s room when I wasn’t looking. She moves at supersonic speed, and I am not kidding when I say she is a blur when she runs.

         “How so?” she asked, leaning forward intently. I found myself thinking that she would make a great therapist, even if she showed up wearing bunny pajama pants and a mismatched tank.

         “I can see your bra,” I chirped inadvertently. Kyra casually adjusted her top, and Hibiki stared at me with something akin to horror.

         “HE’S GAY AND HE WON’T ADMIT IT AND HE WON’T STOP HITTING ON ME!” Hibiki screamed, pointing at me. I merely smiled. The look on his face was priceless. Oh, lookie, I have my camera right here…

         FLASH.

         Hibiki stared at me again, with that same look that suggested he would like to run away screaming and come back with a pitchfork. I grinned cheerily.

         “Nice picture,” I said, smirking. Kyra’s mouth twitched. “Wanna see the look on your face? Or should I ‘flirt’ with you again and take another picture? Or, oh! I have a great idea!”

         I scrambled to sit next to him, and before he could move, I took a picture of me kissing his cheek. I consulted the digital screen on the back and cackled at his expression in the picture.

         “This is definitely blackmail material!” I crowed. Hibiki passed out, and Kyra busted out laughing. I smiled happily and shut off the camera.

         “So did you just come up with this today, or has it been going on secretly?” Kyra asked between snorts of laughter. I grinned.

         “Hibiki inspired me today. I mean, who knew that he’d pass out when another boy kissed him? Poor thing, he must be so overwhelmed!” I exclaimed. “Now I’ve finally gotten back at him for pushing me into the gym naked!”

         Kyra stopped laughing and stared at me curiously.

         “You know, I think I was there.”


Kyra

         After the whole episode, I drove back home, in a rush to get ready for work. It was just after eleven, and I needed to look up directions to Illusions, because that taxi driver had been going too fast for me to remember where to turn.

         I pulled into the driveway, walked up the front path, saw the squiggles glitter in the moonlight, opened the door, and tripped on a shoe. Like I said, clockwork.

         Now, first issue. What to wear? Something comfortable but sexy. It was a club, after all. I found a slinky dark gray top and pulled out my favorite black jeans. Now for makeup.

         I had long ago perfected the smoky eye look, and I loved applying it. Makeup is sort of like art for me. I experiment with colors a lot, but tonight I decided to stick with the blacks and grays palette.

         Directions. It wasn’t too complicated, and it was just under ten minutes away. Before I headed out, I ran a flat iron through my hair, admiring the bluish black silkiness of it. And my mom said that black was a terrible choice of hair color; I’m too pale, she says. But it works nicely. I hate my blonde hair. Others love it, calling it golden honey spun into silk. Something along those lines. I still don’t like it.

         Now, I don’t want to sound snobby or anything, but I love having money to spend. I mean, it’s not like I go completely wild and throw extravagant parties that no one remembers very well ‘cause they all got smashed. I just like the luxury it brings.

         Take my BMW convertible. Not the most expensive of cars, but it’s not the typical teen car either. I amuse myself by pressing the button and watching the top come up. It’s not one of those cloth tops either, it has a hard top so that it looks like a normal car when it’s up. Gosh, I sound so spoiled.

         Oh well, I’ve got fifteen minutes to get there. I hop in and turned the key in the ignition, sighing in relief as it roars to life. I have no idea why it failed me this morning; it’s practically new. Hm.

         I arrive in exactly seven minutes, and I walk to the entrance, ignoring the huge line that stretches down past the corner of the block. I saw no bouncer, so I shrugged and began to go through, unmindful of the whispers that came from all the would-be clubgoers.

         A black figure emerges from the shadows, and I jump as a long-fingered hand grips my shoulder tightly. I look up (waaaay up, this dude is tall!) at an extremely pale man. He’s looking at me impassively with ice blue eyes. I smile and face him, casually shrugging off his hand.

         “Hey. I’m Kyra, the new shotgirl,” I said, sticking out my hand. Jeez, this guy looks like one of the undead! He looks at me carefully, and I keep from shuddering, taking my hand back when I realize he isn’t going to shake it.

         “Kyra,” he repeated, and all of a sudden I’m wondering if maybe he’s just a bit slow. I start feeling guilty, but then his hand is on my head, with his palm pressing against my forehead. I gasp in surprise. What the heck is this guy doing? His other hand reaches for me, but I twist away and walk quickly inside, throwing only one last glance towards him. He’s standing there like he’s just been struck by lightening.

         I shake off the fear that floods my body, and find myself surrounded by dancers, illuminated like ghosts in the flashing lights. I look towards the bar and spot Adam, who’s mixing up some drinks for a couple of girls. I thread my way over there, trying to resist the temptation to start dancing myself. This music was so hypnotic, way different from what I usually listen too. Still, it seemed almost to suck me in, draw me closer to―

         “HEY!” Adam shouted over the noise. I shook myself mentally and smiled at him. He motioned to the counter, and I saw the place where I had to lift up a section to get behind the bar.

         Within twenty minutes, Adam had me out on the floor, serving shots that he called Raspberry Smash. It sounded kind of weird to me, but he assured me that it was a club favorite. I had just gotten the hang of it when I caught sight of a guy dancing alone in the middle of the floor. The lights played around him and made his dark hair glint.

         There something just so…attractive about him. It wasn’t just his looks, it was a certain sort of pull that just made me want to go up to him and…do something. I continued watching him dazedly until I realized someone was trying to pay me for a shot.

         “Oh! Sorry! Six dollars!” I said loudly. The girl nodded and paid, but before she could turn away, I grabbed her arm and nodded towards the guy on the dance floor.

         “Who is that?” I yelled in her ear. She gave me this are-you-playing-dumb-or-are-you-serious sort of look.

         “That’s Jade! He’s here every night, dancing for a couple of hours before he goes to the back,” she answered, pointing to a door that read “Management Only”. “Each night there’s a different girl who tries to cozy up to him, but he just ignores them. There’re rumors going around that he’s gay.”

         I thanked her, and she half-walked, half-danced away, shot in hand. I realized that she’d given me ten dollars, and figured that she’d meant to tip four. Pretty good; I thought she was going to hit me or something for grabbing her arm.

         I wondered if he really is gay. That’d be such a waste. I let my gaze linger for a few seconds more before continuing my rounds. I ran out of shots pretty quick, and I tentatively mixed more behind the counter, with Adam glancing at me every few seconds, making sure that I was doing it right.

         Seven rounds later, I was back at the bar, but when I began making more shots, Adam pushed me away, and yelled in my ear.

         “Go dance! You deserve it!”

         I hardly needed any cajoling; dancing is my forte. I let the throng of people nudge me this way and that until I was reasonably sure that I was in the middle, my favorite place to be. I started dancing, unaware and yet perceptive to the bodies around me.

         It was so easy to lose myself in this trance-like, pulsing music. I let myself go, feeling my body move on its own accord and my spirit lighten. I tossed my head back, experiencing the adrenaline rush that I was so addicted to, that washed over me like hot water in the bath.

         I dimly recognized that I was dancing alone in the middle of the floor, with some people cheering me on. I just smiled and bathed in the euphoria that dancing brought me.

         “What’s your name?” A husky voice whispered in my ear. I turned, startled, and found myself looking into hypnotizing light green eyes rimmed with kohl. I kept dancing though, and answered smoothly enough.

         “Kyra. You’re Jade, right?”

         His pearly whites flashed at me in a gorgeous smile, and I found myself placing my arms around his neck, moving my body along with his in a slow, rhythmic dance.

         “Yeah,” he said. We kept dancing together, and I relaxed completely in his arms. After a while, he pulled away slowly and grasped my hand. He led me toward the door that the girl had pointed to earlier, and I glanced back to the bar to see Adam smiling ruefully in my direction.
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