Chapter 6: Livin' It Up

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I decided to go to the party but brought Max with me. Ziggy was my patient and I was his caretaker. The kiss was inappropriate. Returning the kiss was so much worse. I would be an idiot to think he wouldn't try to get laid at what he considered his last party. Though it may be conceited to think he would try it with me, I wasn't willing to take the chance.

I sat in Max's Range Rover and pulled the hem of my dress down, but the edge of my tattoo was still visible. The watercolor-style flowers were a mix of crimson, purple, and black. Someone who had any knowledge of tattoos would have told me that the blood-colored images with drip patterns might look gruesome when poking out from the bottom of shorts, but knowing me, I still wouldn't have cared. The full bouquet bloomed over my upper right thigh and hip. At the time, it represented my anger and my desire to make that beautiful. Now, it represented the rebellious idiot I thought I would become. Someone very similar the rebellious idiot I was being tonight.

I had changed my outfit four times before I settled on the sheath dress, cardigan, thigh-high combo. No one puts that much effort into getting dressed if they don't mean to impress. I didn't look good or bad, I looked intentionally unremarkable. I was remarkably out of place in Max's expensive car.

"Just how sick is he?" Max asked me, breaking me from my thoughts. I told him that Ziggy was my patient, but I didn't go into details.

"Very sick, but I don't think he wants anyone to know."

We pulled around a corner to find cars lined up on both sides of the street. People lingered around a refurbished brick building. I grew anxious.

"Must be a cool guy, throwing a party like this." Yeah. He's pretty cool.

Max parked and helped me out, then followed another group of people inside the building.

The building looked like a remodeled factory—it even had an old elevator that had a manual drop-down metal gate. Everything was made of weathered brick or wood but accented with modern stainless steel and polished concrete. It was artistic and pretentious. Just like Ziggy.

We followed the signs to his place, though the loud music pointed the way regardless. A sign hanging on the door just under the number said, "Just come in, fuckers." We were in the right place.

We walked through the door and into a crowd. huge double-height apartment, the interior made of the same weathered brick. Past the foyer was a large kitchen, a spread of food laid out across the stainless countertop. To our right, a dining table covered in liquor bottles, and behind that, a black spiral staircase leading to what I assumed was a loft space above. Ahead of us, a built-in bed sat in the back right corner, and at the other end of the room, a makeshift stage and dancefloor were set up in what would otherwise be an open living space. Along the back wall were huge windows that tilted open to a rooftop deck where people had gathered to smoke.

The apartment was huge and filled to the brim with people. This was one hell of a party.

"There she is!"

I looked over and saw Ziggy approaching. He looked happy holding his red Solo cup. His well-fitted white shirt hung untucked from his dark pants. I was right to dress casually, but it was wrong for him to look so good doing the same.

"Look how nice you clean up." He hugged me with his free arm and kissed my cheek.

"Thanks. You look great too."

He smiled at me but it faded as quickly as it came. "Who's your friend?" he asked, giving me an icy glare.

"I'm Sabs' boyfriend, Max. Nice to meet you."

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