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says.
     
    Sarah and I look at each other, laugh, and shriek. “Let’s go!” Sarah yells. We pile in a taxi and take off into the night, still buzzing on the clarity of everything. I haven’t thought about anything important in hours. 
     

 
    CHAPTER FOUR
     
    We clamber out of the taxi and into the club, laughing loudly. Sarah’s friend Joey guides the whole crew inside, weaving between tables and crowds on the dance floor, until we all find seats at the bar. Drinks are ordered and quickly consumed.
     
    The blur of euphoria I am experiencing feels so different from the blunted fog lenses through which I normally see the world. I can pick out the details of everything around me – every smiling tooth, every clink of a glass, is so definite and real. This is what it feels like to be alive. I keep thinking that, over and over again, and every time that I wonder why I feel so present tonight, my thoughts arrive at the same conclusion: Garret.
     
    The performance had been symbiotic, sexual. It felt more intimate than anything I had ever done in my life and yet I am not even sure if he saw me at all. Every roll of his tongue, every lilt in his voice, had sent tingles coursing down my spine and quivers of ecstasy roiling deep between my legs. He hadn’t come within twenty feet of me and yet he owned me completely. I shudder to think of what it would be like to talk to him. To touch him. To kiss him. The pick in my hand is still warm.
     
    “You okay, girl?” Sarah leans over my shoulder and asks. “You’re daydreaming in lala land. Earth to Jodie!”
     
    I smile and clear my head. “Totally fine,” I promise. “Better than ever.” The second part is true, but any thoughts of Garret carry an edge of recklessness that make me worry about losing control of myself and my life. I am in such a precarious position, in every sense of the word. A force of nature like him would destroy that.
     
    My thumb strokes slowly over the smooth plastic.
     
    “So then how about some shots?” Sarah asks me. She turns to the rest of the group. “Shots, anybody?” They all chorus in agreement.
     
    “I’ll be right back,” I say. “Going to the bathroom. Don’t wait for me.” I push back from the bar and rise unsteadily to my feet, slightly drunker than I thought. The bar is one of those New York City establishments that evolved recessed roots farther back into its building as it got older, so the bathroom is down a long hallway lined with couches, dark and well away from the noise.
     
    I stumble down to the door, swing it open and walk inside the one-person room. I lock the door behind me. Splashing some water on my face, I take a deep breath and savor the first moment of silence I have had all night. It feels good to breathe slowly, fully, feel the air swish in and out of my lungs. The alcohol charging through my system has started to subside somewhat, although my surroundings still retain a peculiar tilt if I spin my head too quickly.
     
    When I look in the mirror above the sink, I see a stranger looking back. My lipstick is thick and red, my hair has been weaved and slicked into a complex braid, and the shadow over my eyes is alluringly dark. What I notice more than the makeup, though, is the expression on my face – I look happy. The smile is genuine. My eyes sparkle with a sense of life that has been missing for years and I want to laugh out loud at the sight of it.
     
    I rinse my hands and exit. As I walk out, the buckle of my heel catches on the door frame and pops open. My shoe falls off. Exhaling a irritated snort, I pick up the offending article and tiptoe over to a red plush couch against one wall of the dim hallway.
     
    I plop down on the furniture and start fiddling with my shoe, trying to coax the leather strap back into the buckle frame. Right as I have almost pushed it through, someone drops onto the couch next to me, causing the strap to fall out of my hands. I look up to see who it is, annoyed at