Dance Party

[Rowan Finnegan]

Rowan pulled a joint out of her bra and lit the thing while the bartender fixed her drink. She inhaled deeply, holding in the smoke.

                “Forgive me. I am Armande,” came a voice from her side. Shock overcame her and the smoke was expelled from her lungs in the most ungraceful way possible. A coughing fit overcame her entire body, saliva dripping from her mouth, which hung agape.

                Fucking. Great, Rowan thought to herself as she cleaned her face up with a cheap paper napkin. The joint was promptly extinguished in the glass ashtray before her. That was enough for one night if another person was going to actually pay attention to her.

                She recovered and prayed to the Loa that her makeup wasn’t completely ruined. A slow smile spread on her lips and she turned her face – ever so slightly - to the man that had previously caught her eye.

                Rowan opened her mouth, about to spout off a quip about ‘forgiveness being a virtue,’ or some other new age garble, but thought the better of it. She simply replied, “Rowan.” Turning her – once more thrust out – chest towards him.

                “How do you know Nox and Nik?”