I’m covered in glitter. It’s in my hair, on my face, not by choice, by circumstance. It’s what happens when you find yourself in a club during an 80s revival night. Some of the women had it all over them so as soon as I touched one it was on my hands, then in my hair when I shoved a frustrated hand through it. I’d grabbed the arms of at least a dozen women so far, but none of them had been her, so I was covered in glitter and frustration, a hell of a combination.
I’d told her it was her game to run, and run she had. Trying to get rid of me with a dismissive email while I was busy helping my brother. Not too busy to reply though.
Nice try darlin’, but no. You’re the only one I’m chasing, no other blonde, brunette, or redhead will do. Just you. Don’t pretend you didn’t know I was around, we both knew you saw me all the time. Right now, I’m helping my brother but I’ll be back soon for you. Let’s talk. Now and then.
I’d waited two days for her reply, brief and to the point.
What do you want to talk about?
By then I was done and on my way back to her, so I assured her I’d see her that night at work.
I have the night off. You can find me here if you want.
And ‘here’ had been this club, pumping hits of the 80’s, the patrons dressed in all the fashion crimes that decade had produced complete with big hair and too much hair gel. I’d been looking for her for nearly an hour, was close to giving up when I spotted her. Not Poppy, Red. In a mini-skirt, a crop top, and an off the shoulder mesh shirt, all in black. Her hair was teased out, she had glitter on her cheekbones and it shimmered on her lips as she danced.
“Fucking glitter,” I muttered as I moved toward her through the crowd. She spun towards me, as if she felt my presence, her arms over her head, her body swaying seductively. I saw hands on her hips from behind and a growl rumbled in my chest. Her eyes flared wide then her head lifted, her chin tilting up in challenge.
The lights strobed as Cyndi Lauper sang about girls having fun and I got closer and closer until I was standing before her. She stood still as I lifted a hand to brush against her cheek and I could see the question in her eyes. Did I know who she was.
“Hey, we’re dancing here,” the idiot behind her yelled but neither of us moved. He tried to put his hand on her shoulder so I grabbed his wrist and squeezed until he went away and it was just the two us.
Madonna started to croon and couples formed up around us while she stared at me waiting for an answer. I put one hand on her hip and stepped into her space, her hands lifted to my chest, not pushing me away, resting there as I moved her to the music. We danced together just like the last time except she was the one singing this time. I watched her lips move as her eyes closed and she moved with me, losing herself in the music.
I wanted to kiss her, wanted to dance her into the shadows and slide my hand up under her skirt. But this was her game, I reminded myself, so I followed her lead. The song came to an end and her eyes opened as she started to move away from me, a smile tilting up one side of her glittery mouth.
“Thanks for the dance.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” I smiled back at her as she backed away a step, then another. “Poppy,” I added as she moved out of my reach. Panic flared across her face as the crowd closed around her but I didn’t chase her, that wasn’t the game any more. I pulled out my cell and accessed my email, sent her a reply as the dance floor partied like it was 1999.
Great catching up with you darlin’, see you soon.