It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Underworld was on the basement floor. Those who went there often said that as the night drew down and the cars cleared out on the streets, you could feel the bass through your feet standing on the sidewalk. That was what she needed right now. If Pansy was going to scream until her throat was raw and listen to something so loud that it echoed in her ears for hours later, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be at home with her mother. She’d never been to this particular club before, but something about it called to her. So, she had pulled on her favorite denim jacket with the each and every patch across the back stitched on by her own hand. Now there was just the bouncer between her and a night of sheer bliss.
Hayden was bored. Sure, the beat was good, but he couldn’t exactly dance. He was working. He drummed his fingers on the outside of his thigh, trying not to bounce to the rhythm of the music downstairs. He had to look professional and stay focused on the job. Especially since a girl was walking towards him now, and if she was old enough to be here, then he was a cow.
She grinned at him, pale green eyes dancing. Her mostly-brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and he could see at least 3 different colors of streaks in it. She was a pretty thing, especially giving him that smile.
“Hi. I don’t suppose I could see some ID before you head in?”
She reached into a pocket and pulled out a battered leather wallet. Out of it, she produced a card that she held out for him to examine. She was older than she looked, apparently. Which, he reflected, made him a cow. With a little smile, half in amusement at his own folly, he handed her back her ID.
“Welcome to Underworld. Have a nice night, Miss.”