Club NOW was not at all what I expected. No line to get in. No cover charge. No dance floor with neon uplights. No beautiful Cuban women. It did have the pulsating dance music that had drowned out my conversation with Caroline, but with its oak paneling, worn carpeting, and fabric-draped lampshades it looked more like my uncle’s basement bar than a Miami Beach nightclub.
Caroline was sitting on a single chair just inside the front entrance, her head hanging down and sipping something clear and carbonated through a straw. Beside her stood a large, muscular man in a tight polo shirt. He caught me looking at Caroline as we entered the club.
“Are you Alan?” he asked me.
At the mention of my name Caroline looked up hopefully, and practically sprang out of the chair upon recognizing me.
“Yes,” I said to the man I assumed was the bouncer and extended a hand to Caroline, allowing her to clasp it desperately rather than wrap me up in some kind of bear hug.
The bouncer turned politely to Caroline. “Is everything all right now, miss?”
Caroline nodded, turning her body in towards mine. “Yes,” she said quietly, too quietly, I thought, for the bouncer to hear her. “Yes, thank you.”
Bethany came up and stood on the other side of Caroline, placing a caring hand on her shoulder. Bethany was not much younger than me, and Caroline not much younger than that, but still, standing there, I couldn’t help feeling like we were her parents, come to rescue her from a car date gone horribly wrong.
“All right,” the bouncer said. “You all take care then.”
“What happened?” I asked him as he turned to go, worried that Caroline would never tell me.
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I don’t know. She never told me.”
“Let’s go,” Caroline said quietly, leaning in close, practically whispering in my ear.
The bouncer returned to his regular duties and we stepped out into the warm night air. Just being outside seemed to revive Caroline a little, her voice sounding less trembly and meek.
“Thank you, guys, so much for coming to get me. No one else wanted to leave and I just had to get out of there. I just had to.”
“What was so awful?” I asked, my eyes already scanning up and down the street for an available cab.
“It was Wes.”
It was like a knife in the back, a sucker punch to the midsection, and the rug being pulled out from under me at the same time. My vision blackened and I teetered momentarily on the edge of the curb. In the blackness that surrounded me it felt like I was back in Don’s office, and all I could see were the tears streaming down Caroline’s face and the calculating stare in Amy’s eyes as they fired her.
“Wes Howard?” Bethany questioned, echoing the dark thought forming in my own brain.
“Yes,” Caroline said.
Bethany and I exchanged a pair of uneasy glances. I thought I knew the limit of what he was capable of, but when I looked into her eyes I couldn’t help but wonder if she knew of something even deeper.
“What did he do?” I asked, turning to look at Caroline.
She didn’t answer me.
“Caroline,” I said severely, forgetting all about the cabs whizzing by. “What did he do? Did he... Did he touch you?”
She looked down at her shoes.
“Caroline, honey,” Bethany said soothingly. “You can tell us. We can do something about it. Did Wes do something inappropriate?”
Caroline starting shaking her head. “It’s my fault, really. I didn’t want to come out tonight, but they insisted. They insisted.”
“Don’t do that,” Bethany said angrily, giving Caroline a shake. “Whatever he did, it is not your fault, Caroline. What did he do? Did he touch you?”
Caroline nodded, embarrassed. “He touched us all.”
Bethany and I exchanged another pair of glances, these even darker than before.
“Who?” Bethany said. “Who else did he touch?”
“All of us,” Caroline said, shrugging her shoulders as if having to explain some natural biologic process everyone should already understand. “He can’t keep his hands to himself.”
“Are they still in there?” Bethany asked.
“Yes. Down in the basement. At the karaoke bar.”
Bethany gave me a horrified look. It was filled with equal parts disgust and demand. Do something, it said, as clearly as if she had spoken the words aloud.
I agreed with her imperative. The universe itself demanded that something be done in this ugly circumstance. But what? I didn’t have any idea. And more importantly, was I the guy to do it?
Acting on instinct, I withdrew my hand from Caroline’s and turned her over to Bethany. “Take her back to the hotel,” I said, my voice sounding more confident than I felt. “Get a cab, take her back to her room, and stay there with her until I call you.”
“What are you going to do?”
So she didn’t have any idea either. “I don’t know,” I said, looking back at the door to Club NOW. “Something.”
+ + +
“Dragons” is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. For more information, go here.
This post first appeared on Eric Lanke's blog, an association executive and author. You can follow him on Twitter @ericlanke or contact him at eric.lanke@gmail.com.
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