9. The First Time Heather Cheated on Me

It’s Luc.

“Hello, Julian. Enjoying your meal? I personally would have recommended indulging in at least one glass of that champagne. It’s an excellent year.”

I feel my stomach twist with butterflies. I don’t even need to ask the question, but I can't help but breathe his name, “Luc?” How did he know I’d be dining here? And how did he know I was offered champagne?

“Recognized me just by the sound of my voice?” he praises. “I am very memorable. But so are you, Julian. You keep attracting all kinds of attention, it seems. And that suit is just atrocious, but on you? Adorable, I admit it.”

I cast my eyes to the nearest camera, lens pointed right at me. “Are you watching me? Is this… your restaurant?” Just how much of this city does he own?!

“Country clubs are boring, pretentious, and filled with rotting old businessmen, not at all my style, but I am well acquainted with the owner of that pricey establishment. I keep eyes over most things in this city to be candid, because even outside of my night club, this really is my city. And normally I’d be quite upset to have one of my men reported to the police--”

“Your men?” Those thugs in the parking lot… I thought they just liked the club scene. I never considered they might actually work for Luc, though they did call him ‘master’...

“Relax, Julian,” he urges me softly, and strangely, I do. His voice is just so... soothing. “I am not calling to threaten or unnerve you. Those three who assaulted you this week have been causing me problems for years, acting rashly, in public and disturbing the peace. Your friend had every right to press charges, but I wanted to assure you that the culprits have been dealt with already. Watch the news tonight. It might give you some peace of mind. Then you can stop checking over your shoulder everywhere you go.” How does he know I’ve been doing that? Has he been watching me all week? That should be upsetting. I mean, it is very upsetting, but…

“Are you… interested in me?”

“Would I have offered to have sex with you if I wasn’t?” he dryly counters. “You and that little girlfriend of yours are most stunning pieces of jail-bait. So feel free to come back to my nightclub once you’re actually legal and we’ll see if I remember you by then.”

He hangs up before I can blurt out that I am eighteen now. I was just hours away from being able to consent that night he first offered--

I cut off the memory, questioning just what the hell is wrong with me. He made this call because he didn’t want his employees getting charged with assault. He wants me to talk to Steve and get him to drop the charges, even if that’s not what he actually said…

I make my way back to Heather and her father. Mr. Morris never even looks at me, so Heather, sitting with her back to me, doesn’t clue in to the fact that I’m coming back to the table, not until I am well within hearing range of her loud, insulting comments. “… and yes, dad, he may be broke, his family sucks, and he works at a fucking grocery store, with zero practical plans for college, but I do not need your…”

She trails off as she finally notices me standing there, staring at her, humiliated. “Hey. Julian. So… what was up with that phone call? You’re, uh, mom checking in or…?”

“Be embarrassing if it was, right?” I mutter. “But it’s not like your opinion of me could get any lower, so…”

“Don’t be petty,” her father scoffs, before Heather can spit out some lie to defend herself. “You chose how to show up today, and you embarrassed yourself. My daughter was simply doing her best to defend you. You should be grateful.”

Grateful to be treated like human trash? I am clearly far inferior to her last boyfriend, Brad, the absolute asshole. And it’s not just Mr. Morris who thinks that. Heather was the one to bring up Brad and to keep bringing him up. He comes from a much better background than I do after all, with his CEO dad and his football scholarship. I take the glass of champagne still sitting undrunk on the tabletop and down the whole thing in one gulp. Luc was right. It’s sweet, yet subtle and smooth, and it goes straight to my head within seconds. “Thank you for dinner, sir,” I announce. “And you were right, that wasn’t my first drink. Wouldn’t be Heather’s either.”

She should be furious with me for telling her father that. I know my parents would kill me for drinking underage, sneaking into nightclubs, and thinking about sex with--

Heather catches my arm as I turn to leave. “I know tonight has sucked, so let’s go and get wasted,” she loudly declares, shooting a scathing look at her dad. “My dad can have the house all to himself for him and his new mistress.”

“I am taking you straight home,” her father counters, standing up and throwing on his coat. “You are not getting into anymore trouble, and we will talk about this like adults.”

“Go ahead,” I tell her, easing my arm free of her grip. “And we should maybe… take a break.”

She gapes. “Are you serious? Over one little…?”

“Goodbye, Heather.” I head for the exit. Her father tells the valet to bring around his car. Then he gets a phone call on his fancy, antenna equipped cellphone.

“What, at this hour? How bad is it?” He pauses. “Alright, I’m coming in. Just give me an hour.” He’s still steering Heather by the arm while he takes the clear call from work. He’ll probably drop off his daughter, then head straight back into the office. It must be hard for Heather, left alone all the time like that, no mom in the picture and a dad more interested in spending time with his dates than his own daughter.

I didn’t have the energy to really care though, not then, knowing what she really thought of me…

I get home and tell my mom a straight up lie, saying dinner went great, but not giving any details. “Told you it was nothing to worry about.” She beams, focusing back on her crossword. She is so oblivious, but dad's even worse. He never even asked, focused on the news playing on TV in the den.

It is a rather gory crime scene – three perpetrators with their heads torn clean off, caught on CCTV camera. “… and despite witnesses and the existing footage, there seemed to be no trace of the bodies when police arrived on scene. Only a strange, ashy residue…”

I head into my bedroom without listening for further details, hearing Luc’s phone call playing over in my mind. “Watch the news tonight. It might give you some peace of mind.” How the hell could it ever give me peace of mind to find out he murdered three people? Just how was he involved? Did he put a hit out on them or something? Is he an actual mob boss? Does he really own this entire city…?

I can’t sleep at all. I need to talk about this with someone. Steve would freak out and probably report it straight to his parents, get the cops involved again, and my parents… No way in hell could I tell them about any of this. As for Heather… I owe her an apology anyway. I kind of overreacted at dinner. I was just feeling overwhelmed and insecure.

I sneak out my window and bike on over to her place, dressed in much more sensible and stylish jean jacket and sneakers rather than that stupid, borrowed suit. I get to Heather’s and see there’s an expensive Porsche convertible pulled up in her driveway. Her dad’s car, I guess, but I thought he was heading into the office. It’s only been two hours since he got that phone call, and this convertible… It looks identical to Brad’s.

It is not Brad's. I am just being... paranoid. I don’t want to risk ringing the doorbell since her father clearly is home. I climb up the massive oak tree at the side of the house, intent on knocking on her bedroom window…

Brad’s on top of her on the bed, and all I need is a two second glimpse to see way too many details of what is going on in there. They’re right in the middle of it, fully naked, sweaty, and red faced. I near fall out of the tree but manage to steady myself, cursing myself silently for an idiot, and climbing slowly back down to the ground without either of them spotting me.

Of course Heather is cheating on me. Of course she did not genuinely want to save us something special to explore on prom night. She doesn’t want a first time with me, because Brad is probably a much better fuck than the awkward virgin she’s been dating out of pity these past two months. She was probably only ever using me to make him jealous, make him step up his game to win her back.

My present day self knows that in the end, my first time was a much more pleasurable, thrilling experience than it ever could have been with someone like Heather, but it was still an entirely stupid decision to head back to Club Noctus that night.