I look out of the window at the dark street.

I’m not scared. But I am slightly worried.

Mickey’s always been impulsive. Never with bad intentions towards anyone, she’s just…not the best at thinking before she acts sometimes.

“Do you uh…you want me to wait for you?” Cam, my Uber driver, meets my eyes through the rearview mirror with raised eyebrows.

My phone pings with a text from Mickey asking where I am, and I shake my head, tucking it into my jacket jeans after I respond.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks!” I get out and watch him pull away without a second glance.

Well then.

There’s a large door in front of me but there’s no handle. I peer at it, passing my hands over the sides and the bottom, but it doesn’t seem to have any type of way to open it.

Cautiously, I knock.

“Oh shit!” I jump back when a rectangular eye hole slides open.

“Uh hi, I’m looking for Michaela?” I say hopefully.

My phone pings again, and I glance at it.

It only has a text with one word, “Rubiks.”

“What kind of cube?” The guy grunts and I glance at my phone again.

“Uh…Rubiks?”

The viewer slides shut and I hear a few clinks. The door opens, exposing a dim hallway.

This would be the part in the scary movie where the black person dies first. Why do I get myself into these situations?

I walk through, glancing at the guy as he closes the door and stands in front of it, arms crossed and legs wide. He looks exactly like the kind of guy who’d be guarding something sketchy, minus the prison neck tattoo that is. But he’s got the all black and shaved head part down.

I walk gingerly to the end of the corridor and reach another door. I push it and am immediately blinded by strobe-lights that would cause some issues if anyone were epileptic.

Music is loud as hell, and everywhere I look, there are people. I wedge myself into a miraculously clear corner and text Mickey. Before I can send it, someone pops in front of me.

“Took you long enough!” She yells. Mickey’s eyes are bright, almost unnaturally so, and her short hair is tousled sexily. Her svelte shape is just barely covered in a deep blue strapless dress that molds to her toned waist and stops a few inches short of indecent.

“Mickey, you had me come to a club and didn’t tell me so I could, I don’t know…dress for it?”

“I knew you’d probably make some excuse to stay at home. And don’t worry, you can get a guy wearing a paper sack.” She pecks me on the cheek and clutches my arm, pulling me with her through the crowd.

“That’s what I might as well be wearing compared to what you have on.” I complain, following her up a small set of stairs and settling on some couches behind a rope.

Strobe lights and loud music, mixed with the pungent smell of lust, sweat, and alcohol. Exactly Mickey’s type of place.

She turns to me and grabs me up in a huge bear hug and I can’t help but smile.

Mickey was the reason I’d had to get my juvenile record sealed, but she has a good heart. She’s just a wild spirit that doesn’t care for many restraints.

Imagine the adjustment when her mom married a man all about rules and structure.

“Hey, Mickey.” She pulls back and surveys me, kissing both my cheeks as she squeezes them in her talon tipped hands.

“I’m so happy to see you!” She throws an arm around my shoulder, turning me to the two guys that have started stroking each other’s faces. They take a break to wave and wink at me. Well damn.

“That’s Richie, and the one on the right is Luke, my boyfriend.”

“Is Richie your boyfriend too?” I ask, slightly impressed. Neither are my cup of tea, but they’re cute in an “I was born privileged and now I like to pretend like I slum it” type of way.

“He’s our boyfriend,” she winks and I can’t help but giggle. Typical.

“So what was so important that I had to risk the family wrath to come out here?”

“Oh please. They’ll get over it.” She scoffs, plopping down on the booth and motioning for me to follow suit. “Anyways, I’ve heard things through the grapevine.”

“What grapevine and what have you heard?”

She turns my chin with one finger towards the end of the bar, and I think she’s about to point out one of the guys sitting there. Instead, she tips my chin up to where there’s a landing overlooking the party crowd. There are two guys talking to each other, facing away from the industrial railing, and I can’t really make out any features except that they both look big. And they’re obviously white. Nothing else.

“Remember my ex from college?”

“The football player that you dropped because he wouldn’t have sex with you as early as you wanted? Yeah, it was a conversation that scarred me for life.”

“Hey, it was a good bonding experience for us. Talking about boys and sex.”

“I was 15 and hadn’t even kissed a boy.” I remind her.

“Yeah, well,” she smiles sheepishly, “Big sisters are supposed to guide you with that type of stuff.”

“I don’t know if you can call you yelling about how he should’ve been grateful you blessed his life with your presence as guidance.”

She shrugs good-naturedly, a reddish bang falling over her precisely made up eyes. “Yeah, well, I tried.”

I smile, shaking my head. “You did. So what about him?”

“Well…I kind of miss him. And I hear you and he have a mutual friend. I need you to get me into his place so I can…persuade him to take me back.”

It’s important to note that until this very moment, I really didn’t realize just how fucking preposterous my sister could be sometimes.

I open my mouth, then close it. Open it again, but I can’t really decide what to say. It’s really only something that makes sense to Mickey. Like, normal people can’t go through their lives with even half of the thought process she has and not be locked up somewhere.

There’s no fucking way.

“You want me…to…get you into a guy’s place because how many years later, you’ve decided you really miss him? Do you know how little sense that makes? And who is our mutual friend?”

“A hockey player that I hear you know. Anyways, there’s usually a little after party and your guy is there sometimes. Get him to invite us, then I have an opening.” She moues, clapping her hands together. “Sound good? Oh, and what other hockey player do you know but Harlan Reed?”

“How do you know I know him?” I narrow my eyes.

“People talk.” She sips innocently from her straw, not looking at me.

“Holy hell, is there anyone that Charlie doesn’t talk to in this family?”

“He just wanted to make sure he has my support or whatever. Since I’m still affiliated with the good ole family, even though I’m Keyra’s black sheep these days.”

“And you somehow got to talking about me?”

“Well, he wanted to know how to…get through to you, so to speak. Apparently you have walls up. He mentioned the airport and yanno, things just went from there.”

“That is exactly why I will never be doing anything with that man. He talks too damn much and he’s looking to build the perfect wife for his run. You know I want nothing to do with those kinds of politics.”

“When do we have to start doing shit?” She sits back in her seat and crosses her arms.

“Soon. You know we’ll have to make appearances, even you since you’ve back in town.”

“I’m stockpiling tequila and weed for my sanity. I’m always willing to share.”

“How kind of you.” I deadpan, shaking my head. “Harlan and I met once and we’re not on speaking terms. I’m no help there.”

“What’d you do?” She purses her lips, leaning back into Richie when he snakes an arm around her waist.

“Excuse me, I never do anything. He was being an asshole.”

“Why would he be an asshole when you’ve only met once? What reason would he have?” She asks suspiciously and I fidget. “Nuh uh girl, spill.”

“Uh…” I swipe her drink, taking a hefty sip. “We like, had a brief encounter…on the plane. Possibly indecent…nothing serious.”

Mickey puts a hand on her exposed cleavage mockingly. “Excuse me? My reformed sister, hooking up with strangers? Oh, my word. Is this pride I feel? He was forearm guy??”

I roll my eyes. “Yep. And whatever.”

“Well, you might be in luck.”

“Why?” I duck down a little. Please don’t let him be here.

“Because Brandon is coming over here, and I think I can close the deal myself.” She winks and rises from her seat, stepping over me gingerly in her rail thin heels.

I glance at Richie and Luke, but they don’t seem to mind that their girlfriend is draping her arms over another guy in front of them.

Too open for me.

I watch Mickey.

She’s her animated, lively self. The fun sister. Fearless. Never a care in the world, always living her life to the fullest.

I’ve envied her more than once. I can’t help my laugh when Brandon relaxes his tense body and wraps his arms around her.

Magical, my sister.

She flounces back over to me and grabs my arm. “Alright little sis, off to the after-party we go.” She pecks Luke on the cheek and then Richie, holding their hands as she whispers to them. They just smile and kiss her on the cheeks.

Most amicable breakup I’ve ever seen, I should take some pointers.

Not that I’d ever need that advice. Relationships aren’t my thing.

I should go home to my warm bed, but of course, I can’t make my life too easy.

After-party it is.