Love Hurts

[Candy Hart]

November 2004

"Better be worth the cost." The girl stood, arms crossed beneath her ample bosom. With blonde hair and blue eyes, the school uniform she wore made her any hot-blooded male's dream--specially if she smiled. But she wasn't smiling at the moment. She frowned at the other girl that casually leaned with her back against the wall.

"You get what you paid for." Brown-green eyes scanned the hallway, making sure the coast was clear. Brown hair hung to her shoulders without the same finesse the blonde's seemed to carry. She filled out the uniform, but in comparison remained less curvy than her more well endowed classmate. A shift of her body produced a white envelope, handing it over to the customer.

The blonde opened the envelope, checking the three fake I.D.s. "This looks just like my real I.D.... but for the year."

"Fake names are a hassle to remember."

The blonde nodded, giving the I.D.s another once over before tucking them away in her blouse. Business concluded, she lingered--a question at the tip of her tongue.

The blonde remained, the brunette looked put out. "What."

"You have one for yourself? A fake I.D.? I mean.... you make them, so you'd have one."

"And the teachers say you can't conquer deductive reasoning."

"So... you do?"

Blondie received a flat look from the brunette for all of two heartbeats before responding, "What's it to you?"

The blonde bordered on the verge of another frown, rarely having to deal with someone less than eager to please her whims. "If you did, you could come, you know. To the club with us."

"To the club with you." The words repeated by the brunette held an air of doubt.

"Sure! I can introduce you to some friends of mine. Locals." The girl shrugged. "Maybe you could find some new clients."

"Yeah, maybe." The mention of possible new clients perked her interest. "What's the name of the club?"

"Electric. We're going Friday, after lights out."

The brunette bobbed a nod. "Friday night. Electric. Got it."

[Candy Hart]

November 2004

A rhythmic pounding of bass, underlining the chaotic blend of tones the DJ spun together, escaped through the front door of Electric. The heartbeat of the club, the steady thump, called like a siren to the people waiting in line—eager for their moment to forget their tiny lives under the swell of music, heat, and bodies. She stood at the front, less eager to be there. A light army jacket, worn over a 'Beware of Girl' tee, kept most of the night's chill from her torso. The school uniform's skirt took on a new life, trashed-up and paired with holey fishnets and thick heeled boots that added a couple inches to her height.

"You serious?" The bouncer looked at her I.D., held between thick fingers as he scowled down at the name. "Candy R. Hart."

"You got a problem with my name take it up with my parents."

"What's the 'R' stand for?"

"It stands for 'Really not any of your business'." She returned the large bouncer's look with her own gaze of annoyance. Then she snorted and said, "Rene."

"Should go by that." Suggested the bouncer as he returned the I.D. to her. He thumbed her to proceed inside.

"Thanks for the input." Sneered back before heading through the door, she pocketed the I.D. that added three years to her age—putting her at eighteen, the local age of legality for drinking.

A short dim hall opened into the expansive interior of Electric. A railing balcony split into a stairway that led down to the dance floor where flashing strobe lights played over the pulsating forms of dancers. People stood at the balcony, watching those below or talking to companions over the sound of the music. At the other side of the building, across from the entrance, the god of the night—the DJ—worked his magic. To her left, on the main level, the bar and several tables hosted more revelers of the night.

Candy pushed a hand into her hair, pulling the loose strands away from her face while she considered the chances of easily finding the blonde. Figuring she might as well start with a drink before bothering to find her classmate, she moved away from the mouth of the short hallway and toward the bar.

[Candy Hart]

November 2004

"Here you go." The bartender's voice pulled Candy's attention away from scanning the area of the bar—the tables and bodies that surrounded where she stood—and toward the glass of some local brew, liquid shifting and spilling slightly over the edge as the woman set it on the bar between them.

"Thanks." A short nod offered, putting payment on the bar in exchange. Candy picked up the glass, drinking down the level of beer in an effort to make it less likely to escape with the slightest nudge. Her eyes returned to the rest of the bar area, spotting a couple as they abandoned their perch at a table by the balcony. Candy made her way through the crowd, claiming the table for her own with her beer before peering down into the mass of dancers below.

Here and there, clubs girls danced on raised platforms—lights playing over the expanse of exposed flesh. Various colors of neon flashed within the crowd, glow sticks and other luminescent items decorating the wrists, necks and clothing. None of the faces looked familiar, but the night was young and the crowd thick. Candy lifted her beer from the table and took another drink.

"Hey—" A man's voice slurred as he stumbled up to her table, two hands coming down to its surface in order to keep himself standing. He offered Candy a crooked smile that might have been charming five drinks ago. "Buy you a drink?"

Turning toward the man, Candy looked him over, gauging his condition and possible weaknesses in the process. A smile showed over the edge of her glass, almost fully polite. "I have one."

"I'll get you another." He turned to wave off toward the bar, risking his balance again. Turning back, he returned his hands to the table and leaned in. "I'm Tom."

"Tom?" Candy tilted her head and amusement turned her lips for reasons completely different from what the man might have hoped. She set her beer down, leaning back toward him—a hand set to the side of his jacket. To a passerby it might look like an attempt to help steady him. In truth, she lifted his wallet. "I think you might have had too much to drink, Tom. You got friends here?" Pulling away, an inquiring look to the man.

"They left." The sulk he wore took years off his age, turning him from a possible twenty-four to four. Put out that his friends had abandoned him because he'd had one too many. But quickly the frown vanish, the crooked grin returning. "Don't need them. I got you." One hand still on the table, his other lifted and reached toward her.

A partial chuckle followed the comment, even as Candy took a space gaining step. A friendly enough response ready to be voiced, but a guy interrupted her chance as he inserted himself between her and her drunken admirer. Candy found herself distracted, not just by his presence but also by his scent—a musk mixed with the leather of his jacket that ran a shiver through her. His hand grasping the wrist of the other. "Are you trying to piss me off guy?"

Despite being several inches taller, Tom's care-free features balked—unsure what he did but sure he didn't want to be pissing the guy off. He remained silent, trying to shake the appropriate answer from his mind.

"You're bothering my girl." Explained the man slowly. The guy held Tom's wrist for another second before pushing it away. The force enough to cause the drunken man to stumble, but not enough to make him fall.

"Hey... man... I didn't know." Tom wobbled, not attempting to reclaim any space.

"Now you do." He took a step toward Tom, putting more space between himself and Candy.

"Yeah... I do." Tom agreed, trying to remember where he'd gone wrong that night as he retreated backwards and headed for the way out.

Candy watched the man flee. Once he vanished from view her eyes turned to the guy in the leather jacket. Her unexpected boyfriend's attention hadn't followed Tom as long, she found cool grey eyes focused on her. The edge of his lips curled in an expectant smirk.

[Candy Hart]

November 2004

He wore a white shirt beneath the black leather jacket, studs in a row at the top of the shoulders. A thick silver chain circled the base of his neck, held in place by a large safety pin. His black hair could have fallen to cover the hard grey of his eyes, but some hair product forced those strands to stand on end—creating a tri-hawk with the tips dyed red. The smirk had Candy warring with herself, between caution and interest. That the guy gave her more room than Tom had earned her to err in the favor of interest. She picked up her drink again, offering words to the new companion, "I could have handled it."

"Won't doubt it, but now you don't have to handle it or him when he finds out you stole his wallet." The smirk turned into a knowing grin, he leaned on the table without encroaching into her space.

His words surprised her. The tell in the momentary pause of the glass toward her lips. She took a drink, trying to cover the frown and buy herself a few seconds to think. Finally the glass returned to rest between both her hands on the table. He had something on her, something that could get her in trouble, and he'd let her know as much. She contemplated using the beer glass as a weapon. "What do you want?"

"For one..." His voice lowering, he leaned a bit closer, "I don't want you to steal -my- wallet." The words delivered with an amused, yet honest smile.

Candy couldn't fully stop her own lips from returning the smile, though she tried to dampen it down. "An' two?"

"Two. Hmm." A hand moved, running finger and thumb over his chin. The thoughtful expression breaking into a clever twist of lips. He slid over the table, closer to her.

One hand lightly held her glass, ready for reaction when he moved into her personal space, but waited to see what he intended to do.

The hand from his chin lowered, reaching to tap the top of the cigarette pack tucked away in the breast pocket of her jacket. "Two. A smoke." He kept his gaze on her eyes, while removing the pack of smokes from the pocket and opening it—blindly, he tucked two behind an ear and brought a third to his mouth. Closing the pack, he flipped it and offered it back to her.

"-A- smoke?" Eyeing the three stolen cigarettes and then the pack, she left him to hold it out. "There a three?" A pause following her question before her hand left the glass to take back the pack. She checked the remaining number—four—and put the package back into her pocket.

He stepped back with a grin, pulling out a lighter from his jacket. The flame glowing between them before the tip of his smoke started to burn red. "Don't know if I should push my luck... but..."

"But."

Lighter tucked away, he turned his head to exhale a cloud of smoke to the side. Cool grey eyes returning to her when he asked, "What's your name?"

The question lingered between them. He waited, wondering if she'd tell him. Her hand turning the glass of beer while she wondered the same. After the silence stretched for too long he lifted a brow in question, his smile spreading as if to say: don't leave me hanging. She broke, offering her name with that tone that fully expected mockery in return. "It's Candy."

"Candy. Sweet." His smile split into a toothy grin at the playful pun. He tipped his head to her, the hand holding his cigarette giving a short salute. "Been nice meeting you Candy." He stepped backwards and turned into the crowd.