Shades of Sydney (Sydney West #1)
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Authors: Brittney Coon
Shades Of Sydney
A Sydney West Novel, Book 1
By Brittney Coon
Shades of Sydney
Copyright © 2015 by Brittney Coon.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: January 2016
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-446-2
ISBN-10: 1-68058-446-4
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
This is for all the girls who are looking for love and for those lucky enough to have found it.
Table of Contents
Seeing the line wrapped around the building of Club Purple made me smile. Usually a lot of people waiting to get into the club pissed me off because I would have to wait with them. Except tonight I was VIP.
My best friend, Amelia, hooked her arm through mine and gave the line a nervous look. “We have to wait in that?” she whined.
“No, I’m on the list and you’re my plus one. Come on.”
I towed her with me as we cut to the front. The heat of eyes on my back made me hold my head higher and add sway to my hips. People muttered insults and gave us dirty looks. I gave them a smirk to show I didn’t give a damn.
The bouncer’s shoulders were wider than my entire body. He took in my profile. My breasts were pushed up by a black leather corset with a matching miniskirt. To seem more rock chick, I threw on some black boots and silver chain necklaces. I pulled Amelia to my side. He frowned at her, not impressed by her short gray dress with three inch heels. She didn’t rate “sex kitten” to club standards.
“Sydney West and my guest,” I said proudly.
He looked at the paper on his clipboard and nodded. “Go in.”
We walked into a wall of music. The room shook and people danced everywhere: on the floor, the stage, cages, and even on top of the bar. It was like they were being pulled by strings and were no longer human beings. The lack of air in the room was uncomfortable at first, like having a blanket over your head for too long, but I got used to it.
Worming our way to the bar, I avoided people dancing with drinks in their hand. I’d hate to have to smack someone down because their drink ended up on me.
Sitting at the end of the counter, I waved over the bald bartender.
“What will it be?” he asked, leaning closer to hear my answer.
“Whiskey, neat.”
He nodded and looked at Amelia, who was sitting next to me. “And you?”
She fingered the hem of her dress and looked at the rows of liquor behind him. “Strawberry daiquiri, please.”
He poured me a whiskey in a glass tumbler. I downed it in seconds and waved for another when he gave Amelia her drink. I paid him and he left to wait on the other customers.
“Do you wanna dance?” I shouted over the music.
Amelia stirred her drink and licked the whipped cream off the straw. “Yes. Let me taste this first,” she said, sipping the contents of her drink. “Mmm, I love this.”
I scanned the dance floor, looking for flies to catch in my spider web. Amelia drank like she could only afford one drink for the night. It annoyed me.
“Down that thing so we can join in,” I said, motioning to the sweaty, writhing bodies on the dance floor.
She scrunched up her nose as she sucked the drink down. “Whoa, brain freeze,” she said, holding her forehead.
A sinister grin curled my lip. “I’ll finish it for you.”
My friend handed me the glass and it was gone in a matter of seconds. She slipped off the bar stool and gave me a once over. “I don’t know how you can drink like that.”
“Years of practice,” I replied, dragging her to the heart of the party.
“Though this year, you don’t need a fake ID,” Amelia said, laughing.
I shrugged. “With these,” I puffed out my chest, making my breasts poke out more, “no one really asked, but yes, it’s good to not worry about making a fake ID anymore for those places that follow rules.” My skin crawled at the mention of rules.
All the plagues and ills of humanity were checked in at the door. People danced like they were young and dumb, just like the music was screaming about. Couples rubbed together, almost creating sparks.
The rest were bodies moving with the beat. The pounding of the house’s music made my chest feel like my heart was trying to break free. The final touch were the neon lights that glided across the floor. It was almost as if the crowd was dancing under a rainbow, high on crack.
Amelia got into the spirit of dancing by wiggling her hips to the beat and raising her hands above her head. She caught the eye of the guitarist on stage and moved closer, like an invisible thread pulled her toward him. He peeled his leather jacket off and dropped it at his feet. Amelia screamed as he did the little strip show. Somehow she made it to the stage and the guitarist winked, tossing a guitar pick to her.
My friend disappeared from view as a wave of bodies pushed me further away. Sweat dripped down my back, but I had to dance, had to feel the emotion of the music. Becoming one with the mosh pit wasn’t hard. They accepted me.
Two teenage girls wearing dresses made for dolls grinded on each other, laughing like crazy. A couple on the edge of the dance mob let their tongues do their dirty work. As they sucked face, the guy’s hands snaked up her skintight silver dress. The more I watched them, the stronger the longing in me grew.
It wasn’t hard to find a man. I’d bat my blue eyes and have them on their knees, begging. But my best asset was my large bust. Men stared at my breasts like they needed beer at a football game. They were the perfect weapon to use on the weaker sex. Men basically did anything I asked—for a peek.
A couple of guys drank beer at the bar and some moved from girl to girl, trying to find the one they wanted to “mark” on their list of women they’d banged. I didn’t know what it was with college guys and their little lists. Those kind of guys avoided me, knowing I was a charmer too and didn’t fall for their lame tricks to get into my panties.
A man at a standing table a few feet away caught my eye. He had arms thicker than my thighs and was the prize in this Cracker Jack box. The type of man I could take to bed.
I envisioned pulling on his raven black hair. Tight muscles pressed against his white shirt. His shoulders were almost at the point of ripping the seams holding the fabric together. A caged beast fighting for freedom laid under a thin piece of cloth. That sounded like fun in the sack.
His sinful eyes locked onto mine and I knew it was on. I moved toward him when a hand grabbed my wrist, pulling me back.
“Hey, girl! Glad you made it. Haven’t seen you in ages,” Gaby gushed, crushing my ribs in a steel hug. I smiled at her and ignored the sad ping in my stomach as the guy in the white shirt charmed a pink-haired girl.
I hugged her back. “A lot can happen in a year. How are you?” I leaned closer to her so my voice didn’t get too distorted by the song.
Gaby was an old high school friend and my best connection to the hottest parties. It helped being the only child of a famous record producer and an actress. Sometimes I wished I had parents like that.
She was a few inches taller than me thanks to her ridiculously high heels. She wore a golden dress that sparkled when light hit it. Her heels matched, as did her bracelet. A strand of black hair fell into her face. She pushed it back from her sweaty forehead.
Gaby shouted over the music, “I’m amazing. Come hang with my friends.” She grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the red roped VIP room.
I snuck a glance at Amelia, making sure she was okay. She was dancing and laughing as the guitarist played his solo. He only had eyes for her and she loved the attention as she moved her body around like some kind of groupie. I looked closer and saw that the jacket he stripped away was around her. That had to be hot, but the grin on her face said otherwise. For the time being, I felt she was fine staying with him.
“I’m back with a friend,” Gaby announced to the people in the VIP room. She let me go and waved at a guy covered in tattoos.
This was where you could do just about anything and no one gave you a second glance. Six people were gathered around on a lush purple couch. They passed around a pipe and a joint, giggling amongst themselves. A small cluster stood at a tall table. A blonde, a red head, and a brunette leaned over the table. The blonde grasped a silver spoon. The red head talked frantically about some movie as sweat beaded down her forehead. The brunette kept looking around with wide eyes. The ghostly skin on their faces and bones sticking out everywhere told the tale of meth’s strangling grip.
“Sit here.” Gaby sat on the couch and hit the spot next to her.
I sunk into the cushions and fought to sit up straight. “How’s your internship going?”
She waved me off and reached for the passing joint. The sweet smell of pot hit my nose, making me want a hit. “The radio station and I didn’t work well. Got fired.” Gaby took a puff and held her breath. As she exhaled, she handed it to me.
“What are you doing now?” I took a puff and closed my eyes. My lungs burned and my brain hummed. A guy wearing fishnets and bright green underwear took the joint from me.
Gaby sighed and placed her arm over her forehead, acting dramatic. She did have a flair for theater in high school. “Livin’ off my trust fund right now. Maybe I’ll go into the film biz, who knows?”
Part of me envied her. I’d like to do whatever the hell I wanted and know I could afford rent, food, and the rest of the shit life offered, but I was proud to be a college student, proud that I would be able to look back when I was eighty and say I had a career.
She pulled her red shirt down a little, revealing the tops of her breasts. “How’s life in Arizona?”
I eyed the pipe across the room and licked my lips. “Good. College likes to throw essays and tests at me, but that isn’t new. I can’t wait until I graduate, though, and finally put my skills to good use.”
Gaby grimaced and patted my knee with the palm of her hand. “If you go all ‘career woman’ on me and everyone else is all about being wives and mothers, who will I party with?”
I wanted to laugh, but the sorrow in her brown eyes said she was serious. “Don’t worry, you’re the life of the party. People will always be around.”
She nodded and looked at the trio doing meth. “You wanna hit the monster?”
“No thanks. I brought a friend here and she’s new to this scene. I don’t want her wandering off.” I stood to go.
“Oh, well, if you ever want to experience something crazy, you know my number.” She got to her feet and gave me a hug.
I took a step back. “Enjoy the rest of—”
“Wait,” Gaby said, waving her hand in the air, “I almost forgot.”
She grabbed her golden clench purse and opened it, pulling out a picture. “Remember last year, when we found a Polaroid camera and took random pictures at that concert?”
I thought for a moment. I remembered the camera, but the concert was fuzzy. “Who was playing?”
She shrugged, handing me the picture. “Not a damn clue. We were on E. Anyway, this was the best picture and I thought you’d like it since you keep that album of memories.”
“Thank you,” I said, accepting the photo and looking down to see Gaby and me smiling like idiots with hundreds of people behind us. In the background, red lights shone down upon the small people standing on the stage. “I’ll put it in my summer album when I get home.”
We waved good-bye to each other and she turned to take the pipe from a woman in a yellow bra and panties with bananas scattered all over.
I made a beeline to the dance floor to avoid the girls playing with the monster. Never in my life would I let meth enter my system. After seeing my father transform from a loving man into a worthless pile of skin, I swore I’d never touch the stuff.
Amelia wasn’t dancing in front of the stage. Actually, the guitarist wasn’t on stage anymore. His band was replaced by an all-girl screamo band.
I scanned the faces around me, searching for my best friend. A guy with spiky brown hair and dark eyes drew my attention and made my stomach sink like a rock. He was one of my summer boys from last year. I think his name was Ryder. He was pissed when he caught me sneaking out of his apartment and called me a whore. My guess? He either didn’t like that I, the girl, ditched him or he didn’t understand what a one-night stand was. I ducked behind a couple dancing so erotically they were basically dry humping.
I walked to the bar and looked for Amelia there. She was nowhere to be found. I bit my lip as I tried to think of another place a newbie partier would go. The restroom, perhaps?
As I made my way toward the bathroom to check, I bumped into a wall of muscle and bone.
“Sorry,” we both said.
The man chuckled at me. His golden hair shined in the dancing lights. My only thought was to reach out and touch his hair to see if it was as soft as it appeared. I forced myself to stare him square in the eye. They were a gorgeous shade of silver, like a sparking pool of…I shook my head. I needed to get laid.
We both moved to my left. If felt like we were playing the mirror game.
A smile cracked my lips as I tried to fight the awkwardness of the situation.
He shook his head, but there was humor in his eyes.
I moved to my right and he went the same way. Now it was just annoying.
“Jason, come on, man. My team is killin’ yours!” a guy shouted from a table near a TV.
He gave the bird to the guy, a friend, I was guessing.
“I’m going this way,” he said to me, pointing toward his right so we didn’t move in the same direction again.