Grey Eyes: Book One of the Forever Trilogy

Chapter Nineteen

 “Is Tristan here?” I asked desperately.  Surely, there had to be some reason she would bring me out here.  She had access to my thoughts so she had to know how uncomfortable I was right now.

“Not really Tristan’s scene,” she answered.  “But an hour here and I’ll take you to him.  I promise.”

I weighed my options.  I didn’t see that I had much of a choice.  I could either sit in the car for an hour and risk her being too mad to take me, or suck it up and go inside.

“Oh come on,” she pleaded.  “It’s not like you wore the outfit I picked out for you.”

“Fine,” I said, slamming the door behind me.  I really didn’t want to be here. Unfortunately, London didn’t seem to care all that much.

There was a line outside but London went straight for the door, ignoring the shouts she was getting from both guys and girls.  Music blared from inside.  An enormous man stood out front with a clipboard, and his face lit up with recognition as we approached.

“Hey!” he shouted.  “We missed you last week.  What happened?”

London smiled back.  “Got sick, but I’m better now!  I’m back to show my friend here a good time.”

He frowned at me.  “What is she?  Twelve?  Come on now.  No way can I let her in here.”

“Not even for me?” London asked sweetly.

He eyed us over, and London gave him what I supposed was her “puppy dog” face.  He started to crack.  “Alright, but you keep an eye on your little sister.  Anything happens to her in there, not our fault.”

“No worries, our guys are already inside.”

Feeling insulted and uneasy, my body suddenly tensed.  Did she say guys with an “s”? Before I could say anything, she had me by the arm, pulling me into the madness that was this club.  It was almost pitch black, with violent red bulbs flashing overhead.  She kept us the near the wall, and I was thankful.  I could easily see myself drowning in the sea of gyrating bodies at the club’s center.

London was leading us toward a door with steps beyond it, that much I could tell.  Unfortunately, the group of men in our way looked a little too excited to see us coming.  The biggest of the four, a balding man whose belly spilled out from underneath his t-shirt, put his hand up to stop us. 

“Hot damn!  You musta come straight outta my dreams baby,” he said to London.  “My wet dreams,” he added with a snicker. 

The other men ate it up.  One of them, an odd-looking man sporting a large earring that pierced both his lip and earlobe (gross!), advanced to join him.  “And you,” he said looking me over.  “I think you want daddy to give you a spanking.  Have you been a naughty girl?”

London was livid.  Pressing the palm of her hand firmly into the first man’s chest, she pushed him aside. She advanced on the stairwell, pulling me behind her, but as we passed, I saw his hand reach up and grab London’s backside.  Her head whipped around.  “Did you just...?”

The man wore a smirk.  “No fair you get to feel me up and I don’t get to do the same.”

The door behind them burst open.  The rude man who had grabbed London was suddenly lifted in the air, and held there—a feat considering just how he large he was.  While his friends dispersed, including the creepy guy who’d addressed me, I stared at our rescuer.  He was large, a little bigger than Darren was, and wore only a black vest over his thickly muscled frame.  His hair was dark and spiked, and he stared up at the fat man with intense brown eyes.  In fact, with every passing second, his eyes grew more intense, and I could see him balling up a fist that seemed capable of permanent damage.