Isabela Part 2
I'm moving a little closer to the black-grated railing of the booth, which is shaped like a deck, the same one where Nate was on the Night of the Big Bad Wolf. As the funk "Tu tá na Gaiola" by MC Kevin o Chris plays, I start to shake it alone, going down to the floor, feeling loose as the alcohol begins to spread wildly through my veins. I raise my hand with the beer bottle above my head, using the other to hold onto the railing and support my body while bouncing on the ground. I don't care if my panties are on display for anyone below in the crowd. There are too many girls paying for their underwear to care about mine.
I laugh to myself as I remember my friend Josiah, who loved to call me a "Nutella rocker" because I can’t help but shake my butt whenever I hear funk. It’s stronger than me, and if I drink a little, I just feel the urge to dance.
When I return to the table to swap my empty bottle for a cold, full beer, Cris reappears next to me, her dark lipstick smudged and her lips swollen. I give her a conspiratorial look as she beams widely, happy, a sight I rarely see. What a good dose of free-flowing alcohol and a fling with a handsome guy can do!
“I’m going to the bathroom. After so much beer, I really need to pee!” I say, leaving my empty bottle on the table, having chugged it down quickly.
My voice is a little slurred, making it clear how “high” I am. I usually don’t lose control completely, but I get drunk fast because I eat little. My grandmother always gets mad and worries about my health due to my eating habits, but I’m old enough now to change those. If I’m nervous, I hardly eat anything at all, but I binge on sweets.
“Ah, go ahead. I’m going to get that hot guy’s number!” she jokes, winking at me before walking over to the boy she’s been flirting with.
I head towards the stairs, the environment becoming a bit more hazy, and I’m loving this feeling of being outside the box, free, feeling great and ready to hunt for a target to finish the night. But first, I really need to pee.
I descend the stairs, sidestepping a couple who are about to get down to business, one of them slipping his hand inside the other's pants. The place smells of sweat and booze, but I don’t care. I’m incredibly happy! I dodge people, trying my best not to freak out with shoulders sliding against mine or lustful glances from guys in my direction. And I hope none of these bastards tries to touch me because they’ve done that before, and when I snapped out of the trauma, I slapped the kid, who then hit me back, knocking me down. That night ended with my friend Josiah and my ex-hookup Bill beating up the guy, and we all ended up at the police station. I can’t remain passive in the face of harassment. I can deal with a guy trying to flirt with me, but crossing the line and getting handsy is a whole different story.
As I make my way to the club's bathroom, which is almost at the entrance, I see that bastard Nate sitting in a red leather chair, in an area separated by a low, dark brick railing. I had thanked God for not seeing him in the booth. Naively, I thought I wouldn't run into him tonight. And there he is, the son of a bitch, with a woman sitting on his lap, smiling while that scumbag Ian—the delinquent from Toca who hung out with Nate—shows him a piece of paper, then hands out others to the group in the private booth. The idiots around them burst into frenzied laughter at the printed paper. Nate holds one of them between his fingers, smirking subtly to the right. That damn mocking laugh unsettles me completely, captivating me even though I want to tear off his skin with my bare hands just to reveal the animal lurking underneath. He’s wearing beige pants and an untucked white button-up shirt rolled up at the sleeves. He doesn’t see me, which is great!
When my eyes fall on Bianca, clad in black leggings and a red lace crop top, looking like she hasn’t aged a day, my blood begins to boil uncontrollably. I want to walk up to that bitch and shove the 51 bottle she’s drinking from down her throat, yanking her hair until I pull her bangs out. I feel the need to show her who I am today, someone far removed from the little girl she used to call a freak and a slut.
I’m frozen in place, staring at the same redhead who was sitting on Nate’s lap. He seems mesmerized, staring at this woman’s curves as she sways to the rhythm of the funk. Her long hair bounces as her ass moves. I’m shocked to see Bianca pulling the girl with the defined, toned body by the neck, yanking her away from Nate, then pressing her lips against hers. Okay, that’s enough! I head towards the bathroom.
I need to relieve the damn jealousy building up inside me, trying to create a lump in my throat. Why am I feeling this way about that man?
Hell!
Finally, I manage to use one of the stalls in the vast bathroom with dark, matte tiles, trying to see clearly under the low, yellow lighting, squinting my drunken eyes. Now that I’m finally relieving myself, I hear an absurd noise of cracking that startles me, soon overshadowed by a scandalous moan.
It doesn’t take me long to come to the obvious conclusion that there are people having sex in the stall next to me. What a pain! I finish drying myself with toilet paper, feeling my head spinning as I flush. As I start washing my hands at the sink, I stare into the large white-framed mirror above it and almost fall over in shock.
I can’t believe I’m seeing this shit!
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