“Man,” Jag whacks me on the back and I nearly drop my phone, “what are you doing?”

“I…nothing.” I finish typing my text to Phoenix, shove my phone back in my pocket, and follow him, Rush, and Pax through the crowded dance floor.

A random girl latches onto Jag and he, of course, kisses her. When he finally lets her go and struts off, she wobbles for a second, and I’ve seen this shit before, so I go ahead and grab her just as she goes limp. Her friend stares at me, wide-eyed. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god,” she mumbles over and over.

The girl is dead weight in my arms. “Jag, you dick,” I shout, “come back here!” He turns around, tosses his head back, and slowly makes his way back over. “Look,” I glance at her friend, “do you have some water or something.” She slowly nods and hands me her drink. I dip my fingers in the cup and splash a few droplets on the unconscious girl’s face.

Jag stops beside me, sniffing and thumbing under his nose. “I have that affect, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “Help me hold her up, would you?”

Groaning, he grabs one of her arms and helps support her weight. I splash a little more water on her, and she scrunches her nose up before slowly opening her eyes. “I uh…I just…” She’s dazed as shit when we help her stand. Me and Jag both make sure she’s steady on her feet before we release her.

“Thank you,” she says. We nod and walk off.

Jag laughs as we make our way up the stairs to the VIP area. “That’s awesome.”

“Man, you gotta stop doing shit like that.”

“Why?”

I stop on one of the stairs and stare at the back of his head as he opens the glass door. God, he’s such an arrogant little shit sometimes.

Inside the VIP room, it’s much quieter. Cooler. It doesn’t smell like sweat. There’s white leather sofas scattered around. A private bar, which Jag is already halfway to. Rush and Pax are surrounded by women. Rush glances over the heads of the group, grinning as he points across the room at a bleach blonde standing in the corner. “Oh shit,” I mumble as soon as my eyes lock with hers. That’s the cougar from Miami, the butt spelunking cougar.

She sets her drink down before she tiptoe teeters over in her hooker heels, just like a Botox-ed up Peg Bundy. She gives me a kiss on each cheek. “Imagine running into you again,” she says.

I rub over the back of my neck. “Yeah…”

She glides her hand over my arm. “Boy, have I dreamed about what we did.”

A waitress walks past with a tray of drinks for someone else. I don’t give a shit. I snag one, quickly bringing it to my lips.

“Dick,” the waitress mumbles and I salute her.

“Oh, you’re a dick alright,” Cougar woman snarls, reaching for my crotch. I back away from her, trying to think of what I can do to get away. I mean, she’s in the VIP area and if I’m honest, I’m a little terrified of her. My asshole is clenching just thinking about that encounter.

“You know, it’s protocol that I don’t hook up with the same chick twice, so…” I take a step back and she follows.

“Oh honey, I don’t play by rules, surely you remember that?” Her finger trails over my chest and I frantically glance around, hoping one of the guy’s will see I’m in trouble.

“Yeah, I don’t remember much of anything.”

Rush is making his way over here. Thank fuck. I’m sure he’d love to get some ass play from this woman. He clasps one hand over my shoulder as he empties his glass in his mouth, then burps. “Hey, isn’t this the cougar that violated your asshole?” he laughs. She, on the other hand, does not. “Oh,” he snakes his arm around her waist, “don’t be angry. Older women are my weakness. You don’t give two shits and your pussies have been worn in, so they can take a good pounding.”

And with that, I take a step back, followed by another and another. I head to the corner of the room, girl’s trailing their hands over me when I pass by, stopping to tell people how good it is to see them again when I can’t even remember who they are. Smiling. Pretending. When I make it to the corner, I pull my phone from my pocket, checking to see if Phoenix texted me back.

Phoenix: See you at 7 tomorrow.

Smiling, I lean against the wall and just observe the shitshow surrounding me. Rush is hitting on the cougar. Jag has his hand up some blonde’s shirt. Pax has a brunette on his lap. Everyone in here is either somebody, or wants to be somebody. Fame chasers. And all I see is a load of shit. Fake smiles. Fake laughs. All the guys are after a quick fuck, and the women… they just want a brush with fame. And here I stand, completely aware of how fucked up it all is. Of how lacking this industry leaves you feeling. I tap out another text to Phoenix. Can’t wait to see you.

Because I don’t have to lie to her.