dell
"WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Regan's piercing holler was quickly swallowed up by the throbbing music and the cheers of the fellow party-goers circled around her. The camera next to her took in every move, but the man behind it was unimpressed. Regan moved across the dance floor slowly, too engrossed in the action to see that each step she took was shaky. The camera caught every moment, and after some clever editing, another episode of Regan flaunting her signature drunken walk would be ready for airing.
Next to Regan, her older brother Nerill threw down another shot. His- well, he'd lost count, but he was pretty sure he'd had a lot based on how much he wanted to throw himself onto the nearest girl and drag her to a dark corner. The brunette he'd been eying earlier was looking more and more attractive as the night wore on. A quick-thinking cameraman noticed Nerill's new object of desire and pointed her out to his producer. The producer nodded approvingly and the camera zoomed in on Nerill getting ready to move in on his target. He threw down another shot without noticing it belonged to the person sitting next to him, and made his way across the club floor, doing his best to summon the girl with his eyes.
Across the room, a third figure leaned against the wall, doing all he could to blend into the shadows. No one had bothered to refill the glass in his hand. He hadn't bothered to empty it. No cameras hovered around him. He wasn't interesting television material, after all. He held back a sigh as he watched his older brother and sister having the time of their lives. Well, until tomorrow afternoon when they'd finally emerge from their rooms complaining about pounding headaches and smelling of someone else's cologne. As always, the cameras were here to pick up every minute of it. The cameras were always here. Always on. Dell lifted his glass and eyed his siblings through the clear liquid. What was even IN this? A redhead in a short skirt and too much makeup stumbled into Dell and draped herself over his shoulder.
"Heyyyy..." she murmured before breaking out into a fit of giggles. "You're the other Jet brother..." Her declaration sounded more like a question than a statement. She pulled Dell forcefully towards herself. "I think you're cute..."
Dell frowned. She looked young. TOO young. Did she sneak in here using a fake ID? "How old are you?"
Her face darkened. "Who caaares? Age is just a number!" Dell sighed, lifted the girl's arm from his shoulder, and began to navigate her to the front door. "I'm gonna make out with a Jet kid..." she called to no one in particular. Dell grimaced. He was just glad Nerill hadn't set his eyes on her first. Outside the club, a taxi cruised by slowly, expecting a passenger at any moment. Dell hailed the cab, and as the car pulled up to the curb, the girl stared into Dell's eyes. "Are you going to come to my place?" she slurred. He shook his head and helped the girl into the back seat. "Am I going to be on TV?" Dell ignored the question and fished her phone out of her purse. She had at least been forward thinking enough to put her home address on it. It wasn't very far away.
Dell counted out the money necessary to take her to her destination, then threw in an extra twenty dollars for good measure. The cab driver's eyes lit up. "Please treat her well," Dell implored. The cab driver nodded understandingly, and the car pulled out silently into the chilly night. Dell turned back to the club, but he had little desire to go back in. He knew it wouldn't be long before an alert television crew member would notice he had slipped out, but the idea of spending any more time in that ocean of partying left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Even the promise of escape from the cold weather wasn't enough incentive to return. "Maybe just a walk around the block." His words disappeared into the air alongside a small puff of his breath. No response. Well, at least it wasn't a no. He trudged along the sidewalk, glad to finally have a bit of quiet to himself. The shops that lined the street advertised a wealth of options from trendy clothing to high end dining. In the day, these stores shone like jewels. At night, only the club's neon lights and entrancing music stood out. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Dell realized the silhouette he had thought was a pile of trash bags was actually a man hunched against a brick wall.
"Hey, man. Do you have any spare change on you? I'm really hungry," the man called out. Dell immediately tensed up. His parents had warned him about homeless people. Lazy con men, they were. Forgoing real jobs like decent folk so they could prey on people who work for a living. But as Dell inspected the man hunched up against the wall in the cold night, he wondered why anyone would choose a life like this. It certainly didn't seem that luxurious.
Dell hesitated, "Um, I don't..." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an unfamiliar light. He looked up and saw a small cafe across the street with its lights still on. The orange glow from the window was much warmer and more inviting than the cool blue neon sign of the club at his back. Without thinking, Dell spoke, "Why don't we go to that cafe over there for a meal? My treat."
"God bless," the man replied, clambering to his feet. The man set off towards the cafe at a brisk pace, and Dell followed behind in a daze. Had he really just offered to buy a meal for a stranger? As Dell stepped into the warm cafe, he glanced over his shoulder. The club looked a lot further away than he remembered it.
"Welcome home, masters!" A young lady in a impractically frilly French maid outfit greeted the two men warmly. Dark brown hair fell in full waves over her shoulders. If the sight of a scruffy man in ill-fitting secondhand clothes dining alongside a hair-gelled, perfectly manicured teenager in designer jeans bothered her, she gave no indication. Dell, on the other hand, was having trouble holding himself together. A French maid? I just stepped into a fetish cafe, he thought, horrified. His brain began to race as he pictured a small camera crew searching the streets and finding him here. Now THAT would be quite an episode. The shy little brother of the Jet family finally discovered in a fetish cafe. Nerill and Regan got into all sorts of trouble. A place like this would just be another tally on a wall covered in writing. But Dell knew that this would quickly grow into a full blown scandal.
"I can't... I can't be here," he stuttered. He fumbled through his wallet and pulled out a wad of cash. "Here," he handed the money to the waitress. "Feed him anything he asks for. Keep the change." He shoved the wallet into his pocket and turned to the door, but the waitress caught his sleeve.
"Hang on, don't I know you?" She examined his eyes for a moment before recognition flickered into her face. "Dell Jet! You're on that reality TV show, Jet Setters." Dell grimaced.
"I don't know what you're talking about..." he said blandly.
The maid smiled and held out a business card. "Call me sometime." Dell looked at the card in his hand with a mixture of weariness and disappointment. He didn't collect as many numbers as Nerill, but he wished he didn't get any at all. He knew what people wanted when they gave him a number, and it wasn't something he ever wanted to give. As if reading his mind, the maid offered a reassuring smile. "It's not what you think."
"Oh yeah?" Dell found himself sounding more bitter than he had planned to. "Don't tell me all you want is to hold hands and take a long walk on the beach."
The maid arched an eyebrow and her dark eyes sparkled. "You're not like your brother and sister. You have compassion." She gently closed Dell's fingers around the card. "If you ever want your life to have more meaning, then call. Or don't. It's your choice." Dell numbly pocketed the card, then turned and raced out the door.
The cold air bit at his lungs, but Dell didn't stop running until he made it back to the club. He slipped back in to the dance hall and again took up his post in the corner. A cameraman noticed him enter, but Dell pointed at the bathroom. The cameraman nodded, and turned back to filming Regan dancing on a table. Nerill had disappeared along with the brown-haired beauty he was wooing earlier. Dell didn't care to think where they had gone, but he noticed one of the camera crews had disappeared too. The rest of the night was little more than a blur of pounding music and bright lights, but Dell didn't notice any of it. He was too preoccupied with the small business card in his pocket.