Bachelor Number Five (The Bachelor Series, Volume 1) (14 page)

“It seems to me like there are lots of things to do around here.”

“Going out is certainly one of them.”  Peter came back into the living room wearing black jeans and a black sport coat over a white shirt with no tie.  His hair was styled with gel.  He had no shoes on his feet.  As he walked past Amanda, she could smell his cologne.  It was the same as he’d been wearing that morning in the laundry room.  The same that Lauren complained of.  Amanda couldn’t help but wonder what his game really was.  It all seemed a little bit peculiar to her; the invitation to go out, his answering the door in just a towel, the cologne.  Was this just some elaborate seduction?  Amanda’s concerns only grew when he went straight to the refrigerator.  Peter opened the door and glanced inside before pulling out a bottle of sparkling wine.  “Since we’re celebrating, we might as well start with some bubbly.”  He peeled back the foil on top and twisted off the metal cap before popping the cork.  “You will join me, won’t you?”

“Sure,” Amanda answered.  “I’ll try some.”  She wasn’t used to drinking sparkling wine like this on a random Saturday evening.  To Amanda, that was something generally reserved for weddings and New Year’s Eve celebrations.

Peter took down two champagne flutes and filled each one.  He left the bottle on the kitchen table and carried the glasses into the living room, handing one to Amanda.  “To your new job!” he said.

“To my new life,” Amanda answered.  They tapped the rims of their flutes and each took a sip, the effervescent bubbles tickling Amanda’s nose as she drank.  Whatever Peter’s intentions were, she had to admit that she was having a good time.  He was broadening her experience, introducing her to the club life, and maybe, just maybe, he would help her cross paths with Grant Hutchinson.  Just the thought the she might bump into Grant on this very night made her smile.

“Good, huh?” Peter asked.

“What?” Amanda snapped out of her daydream.  “Oh, yes!  Great!”

“I discovered this at a tasting up in Sonoma last summer.  I bought a whole case.  I’m down to my last few bottles.”

“I can see why you like it so much,” Amanda smiled again.  She had no idea why he liked it so much.  Not that it was bad.  It was just that, as far as she was concerned, sparkling wines all tasted more or less the same.  “So who exactly is coming with us tonight and where are we going?”

Peter lifted a remote and pointed it toward the stereo.  He flipped through a couple of music options before settling on a grooving electronica.  “Is this all right?”

“Um, sure.”  It wouldn’t have been Amanda’s first choice.  Or her second, for that matter.

“My friend Blake is coming, and this girl named Anika.  She’s Dutch.”

“Is she his girlfriend?”

“No, we just all go out together sometimes.  You’ll like her.  Blake, too, he’s a good guy.”

“How do you know him?”

“We were roommates in grad school.”

“Is he an adventure capitalist like you?”

“What?!”  Peter seemed amused for some reason.  “No, he’s a lawyer.  Entertainment law.”

“He must know a lot of famous people.”

“Yeah, maybe if we put a couple drinks in him he’ll tell you some stories.”  Peter moved back into his bedroom.  “Help yourself to more wine!” he shouted back.

“Thanks!” Amanda replied. 

When Peter marched into the living room again moments later he had on black leather shoes and held his phone in one hand.  “Where are those guys?” he asked rhetorically before firing off a quick text.  “I’ll see what they’re doing.”

“Did you tell me where we’re going?” 

“Studio Club.”

“Oh, ok.”  Amanda tried to hide her disappointment.  She’d hoped it would be one of the three clubs mentioned in the magazine article.

“If that’s no good, we might end up somewhere else.”  Peter checked his phone again.  “They want to meet us there.  Are you ready to go?”

“Sure, I’m ready any time.”

“All right, bottoms up!”  Peter held up his glass and they toasted once again before draining the last of their wine.  Peter moved into the kitchen, corked the bottle and put it back in the fridge.  Next he walked to the front door and held it open as Amanda passed before him onto the landing.  She felt a thrill of anticipation.  Even if she didn’t find Grant, this was her first big night out on the town, in one of the most iconic cities on earth.  Something incredible was bound to happen.  Together, she and Peter moved on down the stairs.  His steel grey Porsche was parked behind the building.  When he opened the passenger door, Amanda lowered herself into the sculpted leather seat, all the while marveling at what her life had become. 

Chapter Seventeen

The club was dingier than Amanda had expected, especially considering the $35 cover charge.  That was half of her tips for the day, gone before they’d walked in the door.  The room itself was enormous, with huge pillars along the front side framing giant arching windows.  A large rectangular bar reached out into the room from the back, taking up half the floor.  Tall round tables lined one wall.  A separate section, guarded by a bouncer in a black suit, had low tables surrounded by plush couches.

“That’s table service,” said Peter as they walked past.  “We’ll go to the bar.”

Amanda followed along.  Up above she saw a mezzanine overlooking the whole scene.  “They don’t play any country music here, I suppose?” she asked over a pulsing electronic beat.

“No,” Peter laughed.  “The VIP lounge upstairs might play country if somebody famous asks for it, but I wouldn’t count on it even then.”

“Do a lot of famous people come here?”

“Everyone comes here eventually.”

Amanda peered from face to face, hoping in vain to spot one she recognized.  The crowd was light for 11 p.m. on a Saturday night.  It certainly didn’t seem like such a popular place to her.  The girls who were there wore skirts so short you could practically see, well, Amanda didn’t want to look.  And the breasts… they seemed to defy nature.  Then again, they did defy nature.  That was something Amanda would never get used to.  She looked down at herself and felt a conflicting sense of inadequacy and relief.  She couldn’t compete with those girls, but she didn’t really want to.

“What will you have?  First one’s on me,” said Peter as they eased up to the bar.

“Oh, no, I can pay for my own,” Amanda replied.

“It’s no problem, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks, I’d really rather,” she insisted.

Peter shrugged as a bartender approached, tossing a napkin on the bar in front of each of them in turn before looking up.  It was a woman; full face, dark eyes, dark eyeliner, dark hair, with bangs cut straight across her forehead.  “What’s up Peter?” she said.

“Hey Sabrina, how’s it going?  I’ll have a vodka martini, shaken with a twist,” said Peter.

The bartender nodded and turned to Amanda, who stood staring a few seconds more until it hit her.  She’d seen this woman at the apartment building; downstairs unit just past the laundry room.  “What’ll you have?” Sabrina asked, as though just waiting a few extra seconds was an impossible imposition.

Amanda had no idea what she wanted.  What was she supposed to drink in a place like this?  Her usual beer on tap seemed wildly inappropriate.  But a vodka martini?  She didn’t like the sound of that.  And how much was it going to cost?  Amanda decided it was best to play it safe.  “Just water for me,” she said.

The bartender reached into a refrigerated case under the bar and pulled out a small bottle of water.  She twisted off the cap and placed the bottle on the napkin in front of Amanda.  Next she took out a martini glass and dropped in a few cubes of ice.  In a shaker she poured vodka and vermouth before putting on the lid and giving it all a good shake.  When it was ready she poured the contents into the glass.  “Anything else?” she said.

“No, but I’ll start a tab.”  Peter handed over a credit card.

“How much is mine?  I’ll pay separately,” Amanda blurted.

“Five dollars,” said Sabrina.

Five dollars?  For an eight-ounce bottle of water?  Amanda tried to conceal her astonishment.  She opened her purse and fished out a five dollar bill plus an extra dollar tip and placed them on the bar.  Sabrina took the money and the credit card and walked away.

“I wouldn’t have minded putting it on my tab,” Peter said again.

“I know, I appreciate that.  I’d rather keep things simple,” Amanda answered.

“Suit yourself.”  Peter took a seat on one of the barstools. 

“I’ve seen her before, right?” said Amanda.  “At the apartment building?”

“Yeah, that’s Sabrina.  She lives downstairs.”

“I thought so.”

“Nice girl.”

“She seems a little intimidating.”

“That’s all just an act.  Mostly.”

“How well do you know her?”

“We’ve hung out a few times.  And no, I’ve never hooked up with her!”  Peter gave Amanda a sly look.

“I wasn’t suggesting anything!”  Amanda sat on the barstool beside him, lifting her legs from the floor and placing her feet on a footrest.  She picked up her bottle of water and took a drink.  “They certainly know how to squeeze you around here,” she said.  “You’d think it would come with a glass at least.”

Peter took a sip of his martini.  “We could ask for one.”

“No, that’s fine.  I’d rather not bother.”  Amanda took another look around the room.  A handful of people moved to the rhythm on the dance floor, though they all seemed uninspired.  “I’m surprised there aren’t more people dancing.  In fact, I’m surprised there aren’t more people here, period.  It’s nothing like I expected.”

“Just wait,” Peter replied.  “We’re early.  By midnight you’ll hardly be able to move in this place.”

Amanda raised her eyebrows.  “What time do they close?”

“Dawn.  Maybe later.  It depends on the crowd.  They try to kick everyone out of here by nine a.m.”

“Nine a.m.!  I hope you’re not planning to stay that long!”

“No, I usually bail out of here by four at the latest.”

Amanda drank again from her water bottle and then put it back on the bar.  “Don’t they have to stop serving at two?”

“Sure, alcohol, but they serve Red Bull all night.  Besides, most of the people here are all pumped up on ecstasy anyway.”

“You don’t take that stuff, do you?”  Amanda eyed him with suspicion.

“I’ve been known to dabble on occasion.  It’s part of the culture.”

“Are you planning to dabble tonight?”

“Why, do you want some?”

“Ha!” Amanda laughed out loud.  “No, I don’t want some.”

Peter shrugged.  “Fine, you don’t have to take any.”

“I’m hoping you don’t either.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good.”

“But you never know how the night might go.”

Amanda pursed her lips and furrowed her brow.

“Don’t worry, Nervous Nelly, I’m only teasing.”

Amanda looked down at her knees, covered by the black fabric of her funeral dress.  She was out at a nightclub in Hollywood, with a handsome man who drove a fancy car and smelled of expensive cologne.  It should have been a dream come true, but so far she wasn’t having a very good time.  The place was expensive.  The people were not her kind of people.  She didn’t care much for the music.  She wondered if Grant Hutchinson might actually come to this place and found herself hoping that he didn’t.  If he enjoyed a club like this, what would that say about their compatibility?  Maybe just that he was searching for love wherever he could find it.  Is that why Peter was here, too?  She watched him scan the crowd, pausing to stare at the most beautiful women.  No, it wasn’t love that Peter was after.  He was looking for something else entirely.

“There they are!”  Peter lifted an arm in the air to wave.  Amanda followed his gaze and saw a handsome, dark-haired man wave back.  He wore a blue checked shirt, un-tucked, over blue jeans.  His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.  An expensive-looking watch was on his left wrist.  His face was unshaven.  With him was a woman in a skin-tight black and white dress, cut off above the knees.  She was tall and pretty.  Very pretty, with lots of makeup and long auburn hair draped over her left shoulder.  The pair made their way across the room.

“What’s up, Slick?” said Peter as they drew near.

“Yo, Chief,” his friend answered.  He held an arm up and the two of them clasped hands in a masculine show of affection.

“This is Blake,” Peter said to Amanda, “and Anika.” 

“Nice to meet you.”  Blake reached out and shook Amanda’s hand.

Anika’s lips formed a smile, though there was no warmth to it.  No sincerity.  It was a mere formality and nothing more.  “Hello,” she said.

“Hello,” Amanda answered, wondering why it was that this woman made her feel about two-feet tall.  Amanda just wanted to disappear.  How could it be that this foreigner, from halfway around the world, seemed to fit in here while Amanda, a true-blue American in her own country, was so far outside her comfort zone?  It wasn’t just the tight dresses and the fake boobs that made Amanda uneasy around these women.  It was the aura of danger that seemed to surround them.