The club is cavernous. As you walk down the stairs, the throbbing bass increases steadily in volume until it's all you hear. When you hit bottom, neon lights pulsate off the slim frames of the myriad clubbers, faces indistinct in the dark haze. You search through the crowd for your friend, but she's lost in the morass of bodies.
Then, you hear a voice, almost lost in the music. "${character.name}."
You turn to see your friend, Claire. For a moment, you didn't recognize her. When she left your town, she was a bright girl who wanted to make it big in LA. Now, her wide-eyed naivete is gone, replaced by cool glamour. She looks good—better than good. She's beautiful, the neon lights highlighting her high cheekbones and blonde hair. Her lips quirk in a cynical smile, and you realize that she's never smiled like that before.
"Claire?" you say in disbelief.
"Yes," she says. "Thanks for coming down."
"No problem…I'm surprised the bouncer let me in."
Claire shrugs elegantly. "I put you on the list. Here, I'll take you to the table."
Claire takes your wrist, her fingers cool against your skin. She navigates through the crowd as you take in the decadent luxury of the club. Cool lights glitter off glass, statuesque patrons stand with drinks in hand. Eventually the two of you reach the table, where two exquisitely bored models sit. Their eyes flicker towards you.
"Who's this, Claire?" one of them asks, her voice barely audible over the beat.
"A friend from home," Claire says.
You introduce yourself, ill-at-ease under their cool gazes.
"Charmed," they say listlessly, one of them checking her nails, the other looking at you like you're an impulse purchase she'd like Claire to return.
"Shots?" Claire asks, gesturing towards the chilled Grey Goose. Without waiting for your response she pours out one out for both of you.
"Thanks," you say.
"No need. The agency's paying for this. Cheers."
You clink, and take the shot. The vodka burns down your throat.
"Want to dance?" Claire asks