9.2 Part Two: The Club

   "Ugh!" I scoffed, glaring at myself in the mirror. Originally I wasn't planning on putting a lot of effort into my appearance, but after meeting Xavier, some odd feeling compelled me to. I had spent the last hour and a half on my makeup and hair; I was horrid at hair, I tried to do some Pintrest up do and always ended up with the same lump of blonde strands being held together by bobby pins. I'd never tried the smoky eye look, but I assumed it couldn't be too difficult, so I decided to try it. I'd applied too much shadow to the left eye, so I applied more to the right, than I looked too goth, so I threw in some green; now I just looked like a drag queen.

   "Phoebe?" I heard Delilah call. "We have half an hour until we need to go."

   "I'm… I dunno. I look like a mess!"

   "May I come in?"

   "Yeah." I sighed. Why couldn't makeup and hair be easier things to do; magazines and movies made it look effortless. Of course, normally I didn't care about silly things, but tonight something felt different. 

   "Oh, honey." She said, when she walked in and looked at me. "You've been in here of ages, your hair looks the same."

   "I know."

   "Your makeup looks, interesting, and, er, quite nice, though."

   "Don't patronize me." I glumly replied. I wanted to look lovely tonight; I needed to make a wonderful first impression, yet I was having such difficulty with my appearance. I liked myself as I was, why did I have to apply products to enhance my average looks?

   "Do you have an outfit picked out?" She tactfully asked, ignoring my statement, 

   "I don't exactly have anything club appropriate. I was thinking maybe my high school graduation dress, though."

   "No, no, we don't need to break out the black tie. Thing business casual, darling. Let's go to my room; we're about a size apart, so they should fit, they might just be longer than needed."

   "Thank you for trying to help me."

   "My pleasure, besides I'm the one who invited you out, it's only fair to help you get ready." I followed her out of the bathroom to her cheerfully decorated bedroom. "Alright, think formal, not super formal, but sexy office attire."

   "Sexy?!"

   "Crap, I forgot. I'm your step-mom, I'm suppose to be preaching abstinence and be all anti-under aged drinking. I'm telling, you though, my junior year of my undergrad, of course I turned twenty-one that year, anyways, point is I didn't do either of those things and I've got a stable job and nice personal life. But don't drink under aged, it's not cool, it's stupid and what idiot posers trying to look cool do, and personally I don't give a crap who you sleep with or when you do it, as long as you both consent and I don't have to pay for STD meds or the kid you accidentally pop out. Was that mom-ish, enough?"

   "I guess… can I change now?"

   "Oh, yeah. Sure." She blushed, exiting the bedroom and closing the door. 

   In the dresser there was a variety of clothes, ranging from revealing and almost what a stripper would wear to practically Amish. I picked a nice, blue blouse with yellow decals and slid into in. What for pants? Jeans did seem club appropriate, nor did khakis. Perhaps a skirt? The micro, velvet, navy skirt seemed a bit itchy, may the cotton brown one? I stepped into it and glanced at myself in the mirror. My hair, flip flops, and made the outfit look ridiculous, but maybe, just maybe I could pull it off.

   I  called Delilah in, expecting her to be glad that I was dressed following her guidelines, however she vetoed the outfit and called it "Amish"and said I need to slut it up a bit. In order to get back at her, playfully of course, I picked out micro shorts and a bikini top, which appalled her, as I laughed and smirked and said that I'd change, but I was going to pick what I liked.

   "Fine, fine, just hurry, we have to go soon. The sitter's here and I told her you'd tell her all the baby nonsense she needed to know."
   "I called her in this morning as well; I think she should know what to do."
   "Oo, what you'd do this morning?"
   "Went to the art  store. One of your friends stopped by, gave me a book to give back to you. I think I put it on your desk."
   "A guy? Xavier?" Hope gleamed in her eyes as I glanced at my feet. "How is he? Every since his breakup with the vet, he hasn't left his house much, other than for work."
   "He's fine."
   "Maybe he's moved on?" She smiled. To herself I heard her mumble, "Where's my pushup bra?" Was she trying to impress him? From what he told me, they were just friends; there wasn't an inkling of romance, then again Delilah had mentioned a crush when we'd chatted early this week, when she was introducing herself. "Oh well, hurry, get dressed." She rushed out of the room, as I picked the first two articles of clothing that I spotted, not wanting to be late. I slipped into the skirt and tank top, glancing at myself in the mirror. My hair needed to be fixed; it was awful. I grabbed a brush and ripped it through a few times, it was now down and looked a bit more presentable.

   I walked over to the door, throwing it open, as Delilah grabbed my arm, her nails stabbing my skin. "Quick, we've got to go." She pulled me down the stairs, out of the apartment, into the elevator, then into her car, before I even had time to process what was going on.
   "How do I look?" I asked, as she sped through the city, turning right, then left, then making a U-turn and doubling back to a parking structure.
   "Damn, you look hot. I hadn't even bothered look, I hate being late..." She winked at me, then parked the car, getting out. I followed her down a level, then to the club's entrance.

   "Are your friends here?"
   "They're by the bar." She pointed to a group of woman, who were all holding different shaped glasses that contained, from my limited knowledge of alcoholic beverages, red wine, scotch or whiskey or brandy, white wine, and an expensive looking beer.
   "Hi." I timidly said, once we talked up to them, as they smiled and introduced themselves. Delilah joined them at the bar, as I stood awkwardly to the side. I had expected a darker, sweatier atmosphere than what the brightly lit, hardwood floors, and classical music provided. 

   ?Did you hear? The market's down?" Delilah asked, as she took a drink from the platter.
   "I told you it would be." A blonde woman chimed in. "My husband said we should sell while the market's good and we did; made three thousand profit."
   "Not bad." Another woman, a dark haired woman replied. "Delilah, don't you own five hundred shares?"
   "Yeah. I was hoping that the stock market would go up and I could sell for a tad more, three K is okay. I sold though, I'm going to wait a few days, see how low it'll get, then rebuy and sell when the market's up again. Your husband gives good advice."

   "Thanks." Blonde lady replied; the names hadn't stuck in my head.
   "Speaking of him, where s he?" The red head asked.
   "At home with the baby; the fever's lower, but still I didn't want to leave a babysitter with her."
   "Oh! Speaking of babies, we're expecting a boy."
   "Congratulations!" Delilah, black haired lady, and blonde lady all exclaimed.
   "That's not wine, now is it?" I heard Xavier chuckled.
   "Ginger ale, oh I wouldn't drink while pregnant. You know that Xavier."
   "Speaking of Xavier, when are you going to populate the world with your redheaded angels?" The blonde lady asked. "You too, Delilah; you're the only unmarried ones in the group."
   "Uh..." Delilah said, looking towards Xavier with admiration, as she knocked back a shot of something. Had she not told her group about my father? Or had accepted the fact  that she was a widow and moved on?
   "When the time comes, the time comes." Xavier classfully said. I looked at my feet, feeling invisible.  I wasn't married or expecting children and I didn't want to be asked when I planned on becoming a mother, but they hadn't even glanced at me or said anything other than, 'My name is, blah blah, nice to meet you.' I slowly turned, heading towards an alcove that was lined with black, velvet seats.

   I wasn't an excellent socialite, nor was I one to ignore social clues. Clearly I didn't fit in with Delilah's stock market, mommy friends. I wanted to find my own friends, my own people to hang out with, and not rely on my step-mother. I had started sketching wit the art supplies i bought this afternoon, and I loved that, I just wish that I had a group of people to talk to that wasn't Delilah or Anderson. I sighed, looking down at myself. I thought I looked attractive, but compared to Delilah's friend I look like a whore. I wanted to go home, bury myself in my sketches, yet I smiled, trying to suck it up and not be the party ruiner.
   "Hey." I heard a man say. I glanced up; it was Xavier.
   "Hi."
   "I saw you wander off, we were concerned."
   "We?"
   "Yeah, Delilah and I."
   "Oh... where's Delilah?"
   "Let's just say she handles shots pretty poorly; she rambling about her love life and how everyone else is pregnant or married and she's single. I figured they needed girl talk, so I came to fine you."
   "Thank you."
   "No problem." He smiled, plopping down beside me. "How are you?"
   "I'm okay. I don't fit in."
   "You don't have to."
   "But it'd be nice."
   "Look, you're new to LA and you're a pretty, intelligent, creative woman. I'm sure you'll make new friends soon. You haven't even been in town a full week; don't give up hope."
   "I'm hopeful." I smiled at him. "Do I come off as a depressed teenager; I don't mean to."
   "I don't think you do, I just think you're overwhelmed, trying to find out who you are."

   "I am." I agreed. "I'm glad you understand."
   "I try to."
   "You look handsome."
   "Thank you, I am rather dashing aren't I?" He asked, chuckling, as his eyes shone bright. They were gorgeous lakes, I want to get lost in them. I looked at him sharp jawline, his masculine, yet seemingly gentle features.
   "Haha, you are."
   "I like your..." He pointed to his eyelids.
   "Eyeshadow?"
   "Yeah; that's it." He smiled.
   "I thought I applied too much, made myself look like a cross dressing prostitute."
   "...I wasn't thinking that." He cautiously said, glancing towards the side. I'd made the situation uncomfortable; hadn't I? 

   "You're a good liar." I smirked, pushing back a strand of my hair. "And a good friend, Delilah and everyone are lucky."

   "Aren't you lucky, then, too?"

   "What do you mean?"

   "Well, if they're lucky that I'm their friend and I'm your friend too, then wouldn't you be lucky?"

   "You're my..." I smiled. I hadn't ever really had a friend like him, it was nice being able to have someone who I could just talk to.

   "You should smile more. It's a nice smile; the world deserves to see it."

   "You're so charming; it truly is hard to bear, ya know?"

   "Oh, you'll learn to bear it, don't worry. Everyone else has."

   "I'm not like everyone else, though. I'm not all grown up and equipped to talk about adult things like morgages and loans and the stock market and preschool."

   "Don't worry about being like us. We've got a decade on you, you'll learn, you'll be prepared when you get to that stage. Right now you need to let loose, make mistake,s be a teenager."

   "It's hard; I feel guilty, if I do. I need to be composed for Anderosn and Delilah. I need to make sure she doesn't think that I'm a burden."

   "You aren't."

   "Part of me knows that, part of me doesn't... Xavier, thank you for finding me, but if you want to go be adultish, I'm probably going to walk home, thank you, though, for listening."

   "Any time. I like listening... And you shouldn't go."

  "I'm tired." I shrugged, smiling slightly, then wider when I realised he thought my smile was nice, perhaps even pretty.

   "I'll walk with you. The city at night, well, certain areas aren't the best."

   "Thank you." I didn't feel guilty for taking him away from everyone; I was surprised. I liked him, I liked his mentality, I like being with him and the idea of him walking with me, protecting me from the city, in a way, was comforting.

   We stood up and walked towards the door, I wondered whether or not I should tell Delilah, but from the racket and the strong stench of alcohol that she was emitting, I assumed she'd either figure it out or be too drunk to remember she brought me along. Xavier helped me figure out which way to go; I thought I knew where I resided, but apparently I'd forgotten, or at the very least had overestimated my memory. The air was chilly, neither of us had a jacket, and I didn't want to say anything, in case he thought I was attempting to hit on him.

   "What's that?" I asked, gesturing towards a large truck that was lit up like a Christmas tree.

   "A food truck.Terrance's Tacos. They make some of the best Tex-Mex cuisine around; you should try it... In fact, are you hungry?" 

   "I..." Yes, but the idea of ordering food from someone from a truck at a dimly lit street corner unnerved me. "Is food from trucks decent?"

   "Decent; it's unfathomably delicious. Did the Virgin Islands not have food trucks?"

   "No." I confessed. "Or at least, the Isla Paridiso portion didn't."

   "Here." He said, feeling his pockets for his wallet, presumably. "We'll get you an everything but the kitchen sink taco."

   "Interesting name. I think I have a few dollars on me." I felt my hips, then realised I didn't have pockets; my wallet was at home.

   "No, no I- dammit. Left my wallet at the bar."

   "Do you need to get it? I can walk home on my own, or-"

   "No, no. I'll walk you home, then go back. We'll have to get tacos later."

   "Promise?" I teased.

   "Promise."

   "You better keep that promise, you don't lie to a girl who loves food about tacos."

   "Don't worry." He chuckled, as we began strolling once more. "Cut through here; I know a short cut."

   "Are you sure?" 

   "Yeah, yeah." I faithfully followed him though the alleyway, glancing around nervously.

   "BANG!" The noise frightened me; what areas were we casually passing through?

   "Xavier..." I murmured, pointing towards a hooded figure with an object that looked strikingly similar to a pistol.

   "If I say run, run." He whispered back.

   "Aren't you suppose to freeze?"

   "I think that's with black bears... Maybe grizzly bears."

   "Huh. Really? Coulda sworn it was-"

   "Gimme your valuables and nobody will get hurt!" A high pitched, squeaky voice demanded. It would have been hilarious, if it wasn't for the fact that a gun was being pressed to Xavier's temporal lobe.

   "Unholy, satan worshipping gummy bears." I shouted, wanting to break down in tears. I had no valuables; my jewellery was all coustume. Was the mugger going to murder Xavier? What the hell was I suppose to do? Comply would probably be the best, but Xavier was stubborn and overly protective and too gentlemanly and kind to let a mugger, or anyone, push me of force me to do something I wasn't alright with; I'd barely known him for twelve solid hours, yet I'd already picked up on that.

   "RUN!" I heard him shout and I did; I was going to question him, I ran, even throwing in a few zigzags because I couldn't remember if that's what you do when someone has a gun or you're trying to lose a bee. I ran and I ran and I didn't stop until I got home and dialled Delilah, screaming for her to come home because Xavier had to be okay and she needed to come home and why, why, why had this occurred.