The Secrets She Kept

The Secrets She Kept - Chapter 9

I would never have imagined that I would be living my twenties life in my thirties. And yet, that's exactly how it felt as I stood in the cold, my breath forming little clouds with each exhale, as I queued to get inside what seemed to be the most popular nightclub in town.

We reached the door and I shivered as the  overhead heaters blew warm air down the back of my neck.

My coat was checked. And then, as I handed over my entry fee, a stamp was pressed on to the back of my left hand. I looked down and absently watched as the word rapidly became fuzzy as the cheap ink bled outwards.

Paradiso.

Somehow, I couldn't imagine that paradise lurked of the other side of the door. It was most likely going to be hell. My own personal hell and I had no one else to blame but myself – and Richie.

My stomach twisted. I really shouldn't have had dessert. My bank balance was not going to be happy with me and my stomach was already trying to rebel as nerves took hold. It had been too long. I had no idea what to expect and it was terrifying.

"Come on, Sunshine." Richie beckoned, his voice barely audible over the loud music playing overhead. He paused to blow on the back of his own hand to dry the ink. "We've got some karaoke to be getting on with."

You can do this, Rosie.

I swallowed but allowed myself to be tugged forwards and into the club beyond.

Immediately, it became ten shades darker as the door closed behind us and we entered the heart of the club. The low lighting of the night club was disorienting and probably hid a multitude of sins. Even if some of the clubbers were making no effort to be discreet.

The floor trembled from the loud music pumping out of the speakers, the vibrations making my feet tingle. As coloured beams of light swept over the crowd, it became instantly clear that I was far too underdressed. Or, as I eyed the amount of skin on show, vastly overdressed.

I patted down my clothes before reaching up and running my fingers through my hair. What was I even thinking? I couldn't do this.

"Don't worry, you look great." Richie reassured me , his hand reaching out and pulling mine away from my hair.

He didn't immediately let go like I had expected him to. Instead, he kept my hand in his. All of the intrusive thoughts, the ones that told me I didn't belong, melted away until all I could focus on was the part where we were connected.

He was warm. Until that moment, I hadn't even realised my hands had been cold. I stared blankly at our joined hands for what seemed an eternity. Then I blinked and glanced up at him. Richie grinned, oblivious to my inner turmoil, and nodded his head towards the bar.

I nodded back, still reeling from the sudden quiet in my own mind. He still didn't let go. Instead, he tugged me through the crowd behind him as he barrelled through people much younger than us.

Bodies buffeted against me from every side. Stale alcohol tickled my nose. My shoes peeled off of the tacky floor with each step, the residue of split drinks clinging to the soles.

I grimaced and glanced down at my feet. The floor was dark but I was certain I could see all of the secrets hidden in the gloom. For once, I was glad my outfit choices were limited. The closed toe of my simple black work boots would at least stop any of the grime from touching my feet.

I had only just started to feel clean. It had taken days for the skin crawling sensation of dirt to disappear after tackling the filth in my own home and now there was this. I shuddered.

"Let's get you that drink." Richie shouted into my ear, when he noted my pause, his voice almost carried away by the music thumping overhead.

It was a girl band. I vaguely recalled the song from the radio. I was sure, if my mind was working properly, that I even liked the song. But, for a moment, I was set off kilter by Richie's closeness. I lost myself briefly in the way his aftershave drowned out the scent of stale alcohol. I became attuned to the warmth of his hand around mine.