She giggled, a little nervous but clearly into it, and slid off her stool. I took her hand, weaving through the pulsing crowd, the neon lights flashing across her blonde hair, the bass thumping in my chest.
We reached the men's restroom door, tucked in a dim corner near the bar, its faded sign flickering under a single bulb. "Stay out here for a sec," I told Alena, keeping my voice low, casual, but firm. She raised an eyebrow but nodded, leaning against the wall, her leather skirt catching the light.
