Renea Mayhew ended the call but continued staring down at her phone with a strange sort of smile on her face. Peter was a great husband. He never missed an opportunity to take care of her, but not once had he ever taken her out to go clubbing. They weren’t going with the intention of dancing. Still, she couldn’t help but imagine doing so. Peter, for all of his many talents, was a terrible dancer. Her smile grew as the fantasy played out within her mind.
“Knock knock,” Myles Bittibs said. The young professional was leaning into her office, one hand grasping the door frame. “You have a second?”
Renea glanced at the time. She’d completed all of today’s action items and had nothing scheduled for the remainder of the day. She was planning to pack up and head out right before Myles appeared.
“I’ve got a few,” she said, gesturing at the chair across the desk from her. “I’m glad you’re here, actually. I’m going to need you to cover my morning meetings tomorrow.”
“Copy that,” he said, expressionless. “You have an 8 with Nichelle and then a 9 with the revenue cycle management team. Do you need me to sit in on your 11 AM with the north end directors as well?”
Renea thought about it for a moment. She was going clubbing with Peter and Greg, which would either turn out to be a mild, early night or a complete rager.
“If you would,” she decided.
“Will do.”
“Thanks. Now, what did you need?”
“A car drove into the Tigard clinic.” Myles said it with his lifeless monotone as though he were informing Renea of some menial task. Like he’d just picked up her drycleaning, for example.
“What?” Renea said after a moment.
“Did you…” Myles paused, head turning slightly to the right though his eyes remained locked onto Renea’s. “Did you want me to repeat what I said or provide additional details?”
“Details, Myles.”
“Details,” he said slowly. The tiniest hint of a smile, only visible in his eyes, betrayed his serious delivery.
Myles Bittibs was a troll. Renea had no idea he had anything resembling a sense of humor for months. And then she began noticing little things he did to amuse himself throughout the work day. Things like dangling water in front of a clearly thirsty person. Renea loved that about her assistant, the little twat. But not when he did it to her.
“I guess a patient got her flip flop stuck on the gas pedal when she was parking. Drove right through the glass wall and into the clinic. She demolished the reception desk. There’s glass everywhere.”
“Holy crap,” Renea said, mouth hanging open. “Was anyone hurt?”
Myles nodded sadly, lips scrunching together. “Bonnie.”
As amusing as she found Myles’ sense of humor, Renea did not appreciate being forced to ask the obvious question. “How bad?”
“She’s going to be okay, but she broke her foot.”
Bonnie was about a hundred years old. Though Renea yet didn’t know the severity of her injury, she felt like getting off with a broken foot was honestly rather lucky. With her frail old bones, a stiff wind could spell the poor old dear’s demise. Renea found the fact that she lived through an incident like this incredible.
“What about the patient? How does that even happen? How fast could she possibly have been going while attempting to park? Does she know that the pedal on the left makes cars stop? She has two feet, right?”
“She’s fine, actually. Called to reschedule her appointment at another one of our clinics because we had to close Tigard. It’ll probably be closed for a few months for repairs.”
“Of course she’s fine. Why wouldn’t the idiot that drove her car through a wall be fine?” Renea sighed, and then looked up sharply at Myles. “You didn’t actually reschedule her to another clinic, did you?”
“I suggested that she seek care elsewhere,” Myles said seriously.
Renea looked at him appraisingly for a moment, eyes searching for any sign that he was joking. When she found none, Renea began to laugh.
“Myles,” she said, smiling fondly at the young man. “You’re a treasure.”
***
It was cold, wet, windy, and already getting late by Peter Mayhew’s standards. To be fair, Peter Mayhew hadn’t gone out clubbing since he was in his early twenties and 8:00PM was late by his standards. Sarah had informed him that, despite the clubs opening around 8:00 PM, they wouldn’t be busy until close to 10. And so, at 9:45 sharp, Roma, Greg, Peter, and Renea stepped out of their Oober ride and onto the wet streets of the Pearl District.
Renea looked stunning in her tight black dress. Peter found himself sneaking glances up and down her slender figure every chance he got. She’d done herself up tonight, too. Her hair was curled, something she rarely took the time to do, and the black locks gleamed under the street light looming above. Her black eyeliner was thick, causing her stunningly blue eyes to pop in contrast. Peter smiled happily at his beautiful wife, who shot him a playful but questioning grin in response to his lecherous expression as he looked her slowly up and down once again.
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Despite the incredible value of Peter’s ugly jacket, he couldn’t bring himself to wear it out to a night of clubbing. Especially with Renea looking as amazing as she did that night. Instead, he wore a pair of skin tight dark blue jeans and a black V-neck shirt beneath a stylish but not overstated black leather jacket. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but even Peter found himself breathtaking when he had a look in the mirror wearing this outfit. Not compared to Renea, perhaps, but stunning nonetheless.
Old Lady Romanov wore a revealing top that hung low, revealing much of her impressive cleavage and a pair of jeans so tight that Peter couldn’t be certain she didn’t just paint them on. Greg looked the same way he always looked, wore what he always wore, and wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of bar hopping.
It was Roma that seemed most comfortable with this evening’s festivities. Though it wasn’t her favorite method, she’d mentioned on the way over that snatching a late night meal from a club was something she had done on occasion in the past. Apparently it was a fairly simple matter to find a skeeze skeezy enough to fit her meal plan amongst late night club goers. After what Peter had learned over the last couple of days, he didn’t doubt it.
“It’s probably going to be a late night,” Greg said, his eyes squinted against the rain. “We need to stay alert. I brought something to help us stay sharp. It’s not dangerous to humans unless used to stay awake for days at a time and it does have a tendency to become addictive if taken regularly.”
He reached into his pocket and then held a closed fist out to Peter, who accepted the little rainbow colored pill that landed in his open palm and popped it into his mouth without a thought. When he made eye contact with his wife, he wished he hadn’t just swallowed a pill he knew nothing about. Renea did not approve of that kind of thing. When Greg offered a second little rainbow pill to Renea, she wrinkled up her nose.
“I don’t think so. I’ll be fine without… whatever that is,” she said, and then shot an unhappy glance at her impulsive husband. “Hopefully Peter will be fine, too.”
Peter was more than fine.
Within seconds of swallowing the pill, he began to feel a touch of euphoria. Colors became more vivid. The cold stinging kiss of the rain against his skin tingled pleasantly. To his surprise, it became easier to make out little details in the darkness of night. Details like the silent judgment in Renea’s eyes at that moment.
“I’m good,” Peter said, nodding with furrowed brows. He began to smile stupidly as these new sensations slowly intensified.
“He’ll be fine,” Greg assured Renea. Renea did not look assured. “It’ll keep him from getting too drunk, too. We don’t need him taking off his clothes and doing karaoke again.”
“Um,” Roma said, looking curiously between Peter and Greg. She bit her lip with an overly sexual expression. “Did that… Did that happen? Are there photos?”
Renea folded her arms and tilted her head at Roma with an expression that said, “Really? I’m standing right here,” on her face. Peter cringed.
“Believe me on this one,” Greg told Roma. “It is not something anyone should have to see. And Peter, that pill is going to have an effect on the way alcohol affects you. Don’t be stupid about it. Anything you drink will still affect your body the same way, even if it seems like you still have your faculties. If you overdo it you could end up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning.”
Peter agreed happily. At the moment he felt no desire whatsoever to alter whatever amazing chemistry was happening in his brain in any way. He felt amazing. His mind felt sharper than it ever had. His senses did as well and he was going to put them to good use tracking down the dirtbag that kidnapped Alyson.
“Here,” Greg said, reaching into his bag. “Everyone takes one of these. Keep it in your pocket all night.”
He handed an old cell phone to Roma first, followed by one each to the Mayhews. He looked down at the orange brick of a phone made by Noketya in his hand with obvious confusion.
“Uh…” he said, looking at Greg and holding up the phone questioningly.
“I put a simple tracking enchantment on them,” Greg explained. “If you push the volume up button on your tracker the other three phones will be alerted. Do this if you run into trouble. If you hold the power button it’ll open a crap quality GPS kind of thing. It’s not going to show street names or anything, but if one of us gets lost or goes missing the rest of us can use the phones to track them down.”
“Greg,” Renea said. She was looking down at the ancient device in her palm, clearly impressed. “Can you make something like this that Peter can use all the time? This poor sweet man gets lost more often than any self respecting adult has any right to.”
“Rude…” Peter said, pouting petulantly.
The group split up to cover more ground, going to different Pearl District bars and clubs in pairs. Greg and Roma volunteered to start at Club de Tac where they could check in with Sarah before heading to their second location. Peter and Renea assigned themselves a visit to Mimi’s, a trendy and expensive club in a trendy and expensive part of Pearl District.
There was a line to get in. As Peter waited impatiently he kept an eye out for anyone either holding a find-disk or donning an orange neck tattoo. The pill Greg gave him served to heighten his senses, sharpen his mind, as well as dramatize colors, making it a helpful supplement to the task at hand. An orange neck tattoo would stand out like a neon ‘open’ sign to his enhanced eyes. Even with his advantages, Peter Mayhew was unable to see something that wasn’t there. He bounced back and forth on his toes, hoping for better luck once they were inside.
“What do we do if we actually see the guy?” Renea asked as they neared the front of the line.
Peter turned to face her. He was struck dumb by her beauty. Her eyes, still looking at him expectantly, were almost glowing with their radiant blue. Her pale pink lipstick enhanced the shape of her lips. That touch of blush brought out her high, angled cheekbones. Her hair…
“Peter?”
“Sorry,” he said, blinking rapidly and shaking his head back and forth. “I was just… You look so beautiful tonight, my love.”
Renea’s annoyance melted in a flash. Her lips curled down, brows drew together sheepishly, cheeks reddening slightly. “Thank you.”
After paying the ridiculous cover charge and entering the club, Peter and Renea navigated through the crowd of drunk, dancing, and elaborately dressed young people of Portland’s night scene. Between the couple and the bar stood a veritable army of people already ordering drinks. The dance floor was packed. There was a line for the bathroom in the double digits. Peter did not like Mimi’s.
The flashing lights, the music, the people dancing in their best club-wear, the entire ambiance of this place began to intrigue Peter’s senses. After a moment to adjust to the incredible amount of stimulus, made more difficult due to the fact that he’d just entered from the dark rainy streets outside, Peter started to smile stupidly again. Despite the incredible amount of motion, light, color, and sound, he found that he was able to take everything in effortlessly. It felt… good. Really good.
He turned to Renea. “Dance with me?”
Without waiting for an answer he took her hand and led her between groups of young people to the dancefloor. Though he was here at Mimi’s with an agenda, Peter couldn’t help being utterly infatuated by his wife. With one hand on her hip and the other wiggling in the air in an offbeat dance he’d spent years practicing, Peter locked eyes with Renea. His peripherals dimmed to a blur as his entire world, this tiny, beautiful, brilliant woman came into focus.
Unlike Peter, Renea Mayhew could really dance. Her hips swayed seductively, shoulders rotating back and forth to the beat in perfect time. Her glossy black hair swung left and right as she moved, the curls bouncing in such a way that Peter had to take a moment to commit the sight to memory. She looked up at him with both amusement and confusion.
Renea wrapped both hands around his waist and pulled him close, getting up on her toes and leaned close to his ear.
“Are you well, dear?” she asked.
The feeling of her warm breath on his neck and the sweet, subtle vanilla scent of her perfume nearly overwhelmed Peter.
“Even better,” he replied. “Why?”
“You haven’t stopped undressing me with your eyes all night,” she whispered, her voice a low growl that sent goosebumps up and down Peter’s spine. “We’re supposed to be looking for neck tattoo guy, aren't we?”
“Have you seen you tonight?” Peter asked. “I literally can’t take my eyes off of you.”
Renea’s face turned a shade of red he had not seen on her in quite some time. The last time that Renea blushed this hard was when they were still dating and Peter slipped her a very inappropriate note, which she opened and read in front of several coworkers. He didn’t realize he missed seeing her blush like this until now.