Shadow Play

15

She gave me a once over. “Let’s touch up your hair, give those eyes a little s*x appeal, and we’ll be good to go.” Ash was much more interested in makeup than I was. I wasn't sure if it was just my nature not to care or being raised by an au-natural mom but the stuff never interested me much. She pulled me down to sit on the bed and went about finalizing my look for the night. While she primped and prodded, I mentioned what Cat had said about the Huntsman, but as expected, there was no way she would budge. “You said that Cat girl seemed a bit mousy, she’s just probably prudish and doesn’t know how to have a good time.” She stepped back and gave me an appraising look. “There, these Irish boys won’t know what hit them!” Clapping her hands, she turned to dig in her bag and when she came back around, she had one hand behind her back and the other hand holding up a finger in the universal, just give me a minute, gesture. “I know you’ll probably say no, but I have the most gorgeous necklace that would be perfect with that dress.” My head fell back in exasperation. “Ash, how many times do we have to have this conversation?” “Please Becca, just think about it, you always wear the same necklace. Wouldn’t it be okay, just for one night to wear something different —jazz things up a bit?” Her eyes searched mine pleadingly, reminding me of the cat in the Puss and Boots movie using his big sad eyes to get what he wanted. She held out the necklace for me to see and I had to admit that it was beautiful. A collar-type necklace made of shining silver that probably would have been more appropriate for a night out than the one I wore but that wasn’t going to change my mind. The necklace I was wearing had been around my neck as long as I could remember, longer even. I never, ever took it off and my stomach twisted at the thought of removing it. The silver chain with pendant was a versatile piece of jewelry. The circular stone was surrounded in a silver casing around the edges and the stone itself was a dark smoky grey about the size of a quarter. It went with everything, so there wasn’t a compelling reason to take it off. “I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I really appreciate you trying to get me to branch out, but I’m not going to change my mind.” I cupped the stone in my hand protectively and wondered if she was going to let the subject go. “I know, I know. A girl has to try though.” She smirked at me, unphased by my rejection. “Come on, let’s get some dinner, I’m starving.” She had chosen a local restaurant that had been advertised on one of her tours. While Irish food was not far removed from English fare, which was known worldwide for being on the bland side, our dinner was delicious. As the evening progressed, we got a good head start on our night with several glasses of wine. Once the clock approached 10 p.m., we headed to the Huntsman. Our cab pulled up in front of a four-story building thrumming with activity. The Huntsman was more of a nightclub than a pub and was located on the top floor, boasting floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The building itself was decently modern, and with its location in the heart of the Belfast, it had either been a full remodel job or the prior occupant had been torn down to make room for the large modern structure that was now standing. It reminded me of that old show Hollywood Squares where the celebrities would each sit in one of boxes in a giant tic-tac-toe board. With dozens of windows, this version was significantly larger, each window about ten-feet square and bordered with white stone—like giant picture boxes displaying the people and objects within. The fourth floor housing the nightclub didn’t follow the same design and instead was sleek solid glass walls. Just inside the entrance of the building was a bank of elevators with two enormous men standing guard over approximately thirty people waiting in line. I felt a surge of disappointment, unsure if we would be able to make it upstairs to the club with so many people in line. We weren’t the type to attempt to cut in line so we started for the back, but before we went far, one of the bouncers called out to us. “Rebecca Peterson?” he asked in a strong voice that carried above the noise of the music and chattering crowd. “Ah, yes?” “You can go on up, Ronan is expecting you.” He eyed me curiously as he pressed the call button on the elevator and the doors opened. “Oh, thanks!” I had never given Ronan my last name and while I appreciated a man making an effort to get to know me, I wasn’t sure if what Ronan had done to get my name was welcome or a bit intrusive. The elevators had a retro style with decorative wrought iron caging on the inside for aesthetic purposes, rather than functionality. Low lighting in antique fixtures, rich wood paneling, and burgundy carpet set the tone for a trip into the 1920s. Once we reached our destination, I understood that the elevators were just a piece of the elaborately themed club—the perfect replica of a 1920's speakeasy. Detailed mural wallpaper covered the portions of the walls that weren’t lined with intricately carved wood booths, each in a circular shape and enclosed just enough for a private conversation but still remaining part of the room. Softening the ambiance were enormous red velour draperies that hung in various locations throughout the club. The bar itself was a work of art running nearly the length of the room, the marble top inlayed into a wood frame with evenly spaced brass and carved wood ornamentation. There were high wood tables around the periphery of the room and in the middle of the club was a dance floor packed with people. While the ambiance was retro, the patrons and music were definitely modern-day. The whole setup was amazing and we helplessly gawked as we entered the giant room. It was so unlike anything I had ever seen and I had to take a minute to appreciate all the artistic touches. “Rebecca, you came! I was starting to wonder if you had made other plans.” Ronan approached with a grin, dimples on display, and gave me a small kiss on the cheek. “We just got carried away talking at dinner. Ronan, this is Ashley.” She put her hand forward and he lifted it to his lips for a kiss. “It’s lovely to meet you and I’m so glad both of you could make it. I’ve got a booth for us over here.” He ushered us into a booth clearly labeled 'VIP' and was perfectly situated near the dance floor but just removed enough to have a bit of privacy. “What would you like to drink?” A waitress took our drink orders and he joined us on the curved bench seats. Feeling feisty, I ordered a lemon drop shot and Ash followed suit.