Elena
"Michael Gilbert?" The bouncer raises his eyes from the plastic cards to Mike.
"Yes, sir," Mike replies proudly.
"These people with you?"
"Yes, sir."
He gives us each our IDs back. "Let me see your wrists." We each lift our wrists, so he can stamp the inside of them with some symbol that allows us in.
I look up at Mike with wonder. How does he know that guy? The bouncer hardly looked at his fake ID. Paul doesn't seem to have a care in the world, and Rachel is happy like a kid on Christmas.
As we step inside, the music starts to pound through my chest. Taking one step at a time, I make my way down the lit stairwell until my feet hit the floor. It is a party. There is a sea of people under strands of colorful lights; there's a disco ball over the large dancefloor. A mahogany bar
