Chapter Seven
The club was hopping with activity. Several round tables lined the bar, and almost all of them were filled with patrons. The dance music blared and multi-colored spotlights swept across the floor. Some people were dancing, and others were talking and ordering drinks. On the opposite side of the dance floor were several booths, where people could find more privacy or sit down and order some appetizers. Garrett chose a round table near the bar. There was a sense of excitement to the night, but Maggie felt troubled by what they had just talked about and about what she was not revealing to him. She thought about the murder and her feelings for Sam. Yes, she had realized that she had them.
He had been nice to her from the beginning. She found solace in him, whereas with Garrett, only excitement and heat. She also wondered about what she was going to do now that she didn’t have any friends. She supposed that Sam could be considered a friend; and she could tell by the light in his eyes that there was a little bit of interest on his part, too. She tried to think of the right word for him: wholesome. Trustworthy. Dependable. All of the things that she assumed Garrett was not.
Maggie was going to have to work through her problems and move on, bravely entering into the future. She was going to have to be able, somehow, to say good-bye to her friend. She knew that she would never be the same after what she had witnessed, the silent agony on Darlene’s face, forever locked into an expression of horror. She supposed that she would feel the same way, too, if she were about to lose everything. She found herself in deep thought when Garrett spoke.
“I can sense that you are a little tense,” he said. “Does this scene make you feel uncomfortable?”
“No,” she said, rubbing her arms.
“Do you want a drink?” He looked inquisitively at her.
She supposed that she shouldn’t refuse. She also supposed that she should at least try to have a good time. She thought for a moment, then said, “I’ll have a grasshopper.”
He got up and went to the bar. Maggie looked uncertainly around her as soon as he left, noticing that the club had gotten a little bit more quiet since they had first gotten there. Strange, she thought. It’s eight o’clock, when the business should be at its peak. Several young people hovered near the speakers, slowly dancing to the music. One of them looked like Darlene, and Maggie turned her head sharply towards the right. Sucking in a deep breath, she searched through the crowds. But when the young woman looked her way, she could see that it was not her.
It was all her imagination. When Garrett returned, he was carrying her drink and a vodka martini. The next song was slower, more hypnotic. “The scene is not as alive as I thought it would be. I have been here a couple of times before, and there was a lot more business.” She chewed her index finger. “But I suppose it’s not dead. At least we are not the only ones here. I like the music,” she said offhand, sweeping her eyes over the crowd again.
“Try to enjoy yourself,” Garrett said, taking a sip of his cocktail.
She was, she thought. She could begin to feel the tension slipping away from her. The rhythm of the music was relaxing, and exciting. She looked into Garrett’s face and his eyes looked intense. The deep brown of his irises seemed to have warmth in them, but the look in his eyes was teasing and full of promise. She noticed the lines on his face and wondered what kind of life would have caused the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the lines around his mouth, which gave her the impression of a full, but difficult life. She sipped on her own drink, beginning to relax a little bit more. She noticed a couple coming closer to the bar. The man’s arm was enclosed around the woman’s small waist. They both swept their eyes on them briefly, and the woman smiled at her seductively.
A waitress approached them. “How are you enjoying your evening?” she said. She was wearing a short, black dress and an apron.
Garrett looked up at her. “The night is just getting started, but I hope that it will turn out well.” He looked at her then and smiled, and she felt her arms chill. She looked over to the next table and they were enjoying shots out of colorful tubes. She looked across the room again and various people had gotten up, abandoned their tables to empty and half-empty glasses, crumpled napkins and stacks of bills left there for the waitresses. They were headed to the dance floor.
After about a half-hour there were more people. The music seemed louder. She had ordered another drink, even though the first one had slammed into her at surprising strength. The smile in Garrett’s eyes, the multi-colored lights dancing on the floor, the lulling music, and the smell of perfume and cologne mingling in the air with cocktails and appetizers: all of it was magical. But that’s when she saw it. A group of people on the dance floor had stopped dancing, and they were talking amongst themselves. A police officer walked in, strutting close to the speakers. He wasn’t stopping to talk with anyone, but only scanning his eyes through the club, taking stock of the faces and what each person was doing. Maggie heard lyrics inside of her head: “Don’t tell me anymore lies… I have had enough of your disguise.”
A few minutes later she detected the first odor, the odor of smoke. At first she thought it was nothing. Perhaps it was someone, drunk, lighting a cigarette despite the smoking ban. But the odor became more intense. She looked over, close to the speaker, and saw it: small wisps of smoke, rising from behind what looked like a heavy, black curtain. “Garrett, look over there,” she said, rising from her chair and pointing. Gasps emerged from the crowd. As the smoke thickened, several people got up to run out. A man shouted, “Fire!” She saw the first licks of flame.
And it happened so quickly. The sprinklers came on, and a woman screamed. Many people hurried to the front doors, ramming their bodies against each other as they struggled to escape. Where was the police officer? Most people were able to leave the club. But by the time Garrett and Maggie reached the front, the doors would not open. “Shit,” he said, pulling on the door again and again. “Maggie, go try to find another exit.”
The fire was more progressed than she would have thought. It must have started behind the black curtain, and had already grown by the time that she saw the smoke. Panicked, she looked for a fire exit but could not find one. Surely there is one here. There were only a few people left in the club, and many of them were screaming. The fire was still alive, despite the raining water from the sprinklers. Smoke made it difficult to breathe. Maggie let out several hoarse coughs.
Garrett was banging on the door. Maggie saw the lit sign which said “Exit,” clear across the dance floor, near the booths. “This way, Garrett!” she yelled. But then she saw that it was barricaded. Who would have barricaded the door? Garrett rushed to her side. He saw the reason why she hesitated. He made a move, and with his strong arms he began to push at the obstruction, which was actually a heavy-looking table which had been wedged between the sides to block any person who might be trying to escape.
They managed to get themselves outside, and then asked each other, “What happened to the police officer?”