Was that the fifth or sixth shot? Sylvia was not sure anymore, she had stopped counting when the music booming from the huge speaker had increased its volume: it was enough to cause a headache. Her eyes caught Claire reaching out for another glass of alcohol, she contemplated stopping her but remembered they scarcely break out from their normal routine.
"You should stop… thinking, you know." Claire raised the cup and swiftly threw the content in her mouth, wincing as she struggled to swallow. "No one comes to a club to do whatever you are doing."
"And taking all the alcohol your body can muster is the right to do in a club?"
Claire smirked. "Apparently, yes. Look at everyone."
True to her word, men and women both had a glass of something scary gripped with their fingers. Of course, Claire had requested for another glass.
"At least, one of us needs to be conscious to take you home," Sylvia finally said.
"Oh please." Claire mocked, rubbing her palm on her short black dress. "Anthony is here — and still here waiting for us for a reason."
"Still." Sylvia offered a smile. "You are wasted."
That caused her to grin and Sylvia just shook her head. "So, tell me. How was the interview?"
Sylvia sighed, dropping her shoulders. It had been two long years of attending an online college, and two hateful years filled with unfruitful interviews. They always ended up with words that were directly or indirectly "We will get back to you." And they never did. She already knew today's interview was a disaster: she arrived with rain-drenched clothes and a broken heel, with most of her documents wet and tearing apart already.
"Hey!" two fingers snapped close to her eyes. "God! You think too much. I wouldn't have asked if–"
"You asked before and I told you," Sylvia replied, silently wishing she had alcohol beside her.
Claire rolled her eyes. "You only said 'Rain', then jammed your room door in my face!"
A sigh escaped her lips. "You know I didn't mean that."
"I know. So what exactly happened?"
Sylvia started to explain her unlucky ordeal with the rain, telling her why she forgot an umbrella knowing fully well this was raining season. She didn't forget to tell her one of her favourite black shoe has a broken heel, and she walked back home looking like a mad woman.
"I'm so sorry, Claire. Things… don't work out well for me." she said, contemplating just having one shot from the bar.
Claire smiled, the same smile that reminded Sylvia of her mother. "It was the rain. It can happen to anybody. Why are you apologising tho?"
Sylvia made a you-know look. "It has been two years since you began taking care of–"
"And we have talked about this before. I have never complained, have I?
Sylvia shook her head. "Still. I want to support you and thank you for it, and I also need to get my life back."
She grabbed Sylvia's hands. "I promised you I'll stay until then, I don't plan on breaking that promise. And I won't. Just stop thinking too much, it breaks my heart when you do." she pouted her lips, and wrapped her hands around her. This time, Sylvia hugged her back.
"Well, I need to visit The White Man:" It was the stupid name Claire used to refer to the restroom when she was around people.
A short laugh broke from her lips. "Greet him for me when you meet him."
"You know I will." She managed to whiz between the ever moving crowd.
Her eyes landed on the bartender again. It was no surprise he was looking directly at her with a smirk that caused her stomach to grumble. She feigned a smile and didn't bother asking for the drink she achingly needed.
Anthony stood not to far from where they sat. She has always wondered why a doctor had a driver that also acted as her bodyguard. She had never come across a driver that covered his skin with thai many tattoos. He was 6'2, she was sure of it, with his broad shoulders and my domineering gaze he always wore on his chiselled face.
He must have sensed her eyes on him, because his eyes swiftly shifted to Sylvia, causing her to make a awkward smile and a nod. He nodded back and removed his eyes.
"I wonder if he hates me or he's just keeping distance" She didn't know her thoughts were in the open.
"You mean the grumpy dude you came with?" Her neck snapped at the voice that came from beside her.
It was the bartender. Where the hell was Claire?
"Yes. What do you want?" The question didn't come out as gently as she wanted it to but she could care less.
One end of his lips curved into a smirk again. "We aren't fighting, you know. And I saw your eyes, you had been wanting to talk to–"
"Don't think too highly of yourself." That startled him. Good. "I needed a shot; didn't want to talk to you." She wanted to add "will never will" but refrained.
"Oh." he muttered, running his fingers through his short black hair. "Ehm… do you still need that shot?"
"Nope," she clipped, flexing her back with a frown. She turned back and scanned the club, looking for Claire. But she felt it again. Someone's eyes tentatively looking at her. She ran her eyes again, trying to see the person.
Fear immediately found its way to her. No matter how much she tried to tamp it down, it remained. Until she gave up..
Sylvia could not see the person but she was sure someone kept looking at her, someone that had a dangerous aura. Where was Claire?
As though summoned by Sylvia's worries, Claire, appeared behind her. Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed Claire's hand. "Let's go."
"What? We just came, and you look like you just saw a ghost."
"Ehm… I just developed a headache. I want to rest." When she dared look into Claire's eyes, she found them studying her, as though she saw through the lie.
Claire finally nodded, grabbed her purse and they left, holding hands, Anthony trailing from behind them.
As soon as they left, a tall man with pitch black hair came out from the shadows. He grabbed his phone and dailed a number.
"Hello?" the person from the other end called. "This should better be impor–"
"I. Found. Her."