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Bea, lucky girl, happened to have a car. Not that it was particularly high-quality (compared to Sutton's it was junkyard material) but it sure beat the bus. 

She drove just a little bit recklessly, though.

"Uh, Beatrice, you're moving into the other lane."

"Oh," she laughed, shifting back to the right, "Whoopsies."

"Should I be driving?" I asked tentatively, watching the guy beside us shake his fist.

"Kat," she said seriously, "I dated a racecar driver once. I know what I'm doing."

She then ran through two red lights, at thirty above the speed limit.

"Bea..." I started, holding my seatbelt for dear life.

"Relax, mother." she laughed, "I've talked my way out of a ticket plenty of times."

I wondered briefly if she could talk her way out of a t-boned car. Now that would be impressive.

She reached out, turning the radio on to a classic rock channel. Not the kind of music I thought she listened to.

Livin' on a Prayer came on and Bea sang along, totally oblivious to the horns honking behind us.

"Maybe you should turn on the indicator next time you turn." I suggested, turning down the volume.

"Maybe you should stop being a backseat driver." she said pointedly, turning it back up.

"For your information," I replied, "I'm sitting in the front seat. Beside you."

"Oh yeah." she chuckled, giving a sheepish smile, "Don't worry, we're almost there." 

By the end of the drive I was sure my brain had been loosened significantly from my skull. 

I stepped out of the car as quickly as my feet would let me, leaning on the car's hood for balance. My legs were wobbly, whereas on roller coasters I didn't feel a thing. 

Beatrice stepped out and started walking, telling me to hurry up. She seemed as if she'd just had the most calm moments of her life. 

Her car seemed shabby in comparison to the others parked there (the lot was practically full) and I had to wonder what kind of neighbourhood I was in. 

I followed Bea, distinctly aware of the beat of bass-heavy music in the air. The short, squat building we were walking towards had lights dancing off of its roof, and I could hear the sounds of people whooping.

A feeling of dread spread in the pit of my stomach. 

"What is this place?" I managed to ask in a small voice.

"Isn't it amazing?" Beatrice gushed, "It's called Eon. Essentially where the rich come to party."

"How are we going to get in, then?" I asked, hoping that Bea would say we were actually going somewhere else.

"I know the bartender." she smiled, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the front of the line.

Quite a few people looked at us with daggers in their eyes but Bea, whispering something into the bouncer's ear, dragged the two of us in soon afterwards.

As soon as we entered I felt loud music rumbling in my ears. Bea managed to yank me through a horde of people and plopped me onto a stool by a gleaming bar, sitting beside me animatedly.

"Hello, ladies." the bartender said, juggling glasses easily, "Can I interest you in a drink?"

"This is Alain," Bea explained, "Get me a cosmo on the rocks, would you? Kat, what about you?"

She grinned at him and I could sense her turning on the charm. 

"Uh..." I started, "I'll just have water."

Beatrice looked at me as if I'd grown a second head.

"Coming right up." Alain assured, tossing two of the glasses so that they landed, upright, on the counter. 

He tossed some ice in one of them and ducked to get something from the cupboard in front of him. 

I watched in fascination as he mixed Bea's cocktail, tossing and catching bottles behind his back and spinning them through the air without even looking at them. 

It was easy to tell that his eyes were glued to Beatrice. No surprise there.

Alain squeezed some lime juice into the pink-red drink, sliding it to the object of his attention, and then just poured me water from a jug.

I took my glass and sipped at it,  turning to look at the rest of the club. It didn't take a genius to tell that Bea was busy flirting.

The floor was covered in black carpeting, matching the colour of the walls and ceiling. It was pristine considering the fact it was a club. A swarm of people were dancing in the middle, but there were more secluded booths along the side. 

Overall it looked more the part of a chic lounge than a club. And I felt like a banana in a coal mine. 

The End

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