Crimson Footprints by Shewanda Pugh

downstairs. Furthermore, the
entrance to it looked seedy and suspect, but she took Tak’s hand
and allowed him to lead her in. There were nightclubs down there,
at least half a dozen, and that night, he promised, they would
dance.
    Deena produced a shiny,
laminated new driver’s license for entrance to the club. The
bouncer who took it was tall enough so that the back of his head
pressed against the bit of wall above the door. He scrutinized the
picture and handed it back as if unimpressed. The bouncer repeated
the ritual with Tak before they were finally admitted.
    They stepped inside and
darkness swallowed them. People were pressed on a vast floor,
swaying to a trance-inducing beat. Deena blinked. It was damp and
humid as the fumes of sweat and liquor coalesced mid-air. The music
throbbed, a light, pop-like tune that was almost disco, paired with
an airy voice.
    Tak squeezed her hand. “Want
a drink?” He had to shout over insistent bass.
    Deena nodded
gratefully.
    They weaved through the
club, hands clasped out of what Deena told herself was necessity,
till they reached the bar at the back. He ordered a Heineken draft
and a Strawberry Daiquiri before looking down at her
hand.
    “ You okay?”
    She blushed, grateful that
it was too dark for him to see. Her grip was clammy and tight, her
resolve to keep him in reach unshakeable.
    “ A little nervous.” She
peered around. “You’re probably eager to dance.”
    At UCLA, he’d been a beer
chugging frat boy of a stereotype who partied four times a week. So
tonight, he was in his element.
    Tak shrugged. “Whatever you
want to do.”
    She lowered her gaze.
“Just—enjoy my drink, maybe?”
    Tak nodded. “Sounds good to
me.”
    He released her when his
beer arrived and tossed back a big swallow. She brought the
daiquiri in a big pilsner to her lips for a sip.
    “ Good?” Tak
asked.
    Deena nodded.
“Very.”
    She drank the first one and
had a second. The music was southern rap now, so it had a slower
tempo, claps on the backbeat and constant references to sex,
strippers and alcohol.
    The liquor had a warming
effect. She peered in her glass. What was in a daiquiri? She had no
idea, but it was marvelous.
    “ You, uh…want another?” Tak
smiled.
    Deena nodded. “One more. Not
too much.”
    Her words didn’t sound
right. Running together and enunciating all at once. She
frowned.
    Another daiquiri was placed
before her and again she peered in the glass.
    “ These are very good. You
should try one.”
    Tak grinned. “I generally
steer away from drinks with umbrellas and sliced fruit adorning it.
Not good for the image.”
    “ Fine,” Deena said. “Suit
yourself.” She tossed it back for a big gulp and got brain freeze.
“Ow!” She gripped her skull with both hands.
    “ Just let it pass,” Tak
advised. “And drink slower.”
    She looked up at him
suddenly. “Wanna dance?”
    He looked surprised.
“Uh—sure. If you’re okay with that. I’d love to.”
    She took another gulp of her
drink and abandoned it, near full. She started for the floor. Tak
dropped a few bills on the counter and followed.
    “ I’ve never danced,” Deena
gushed. “Tell me what to do.”
    “ Not much to tell. Just
feel it. Feel it and have fun.”
    “ Feel it. Fun. Got it,” she
said.
    Tak smiled. “Follow
me.”
    The music was club rap, a
few intoxicating beats, a breathy male voice and a few sexy and
well-placed hooks. He pulled her into his arms and began to sway.
She followed with ease.
    “ Like this?”
    Tak grinned. “Just like
that.”
    It was easier than she
thought. When she told him that she’d never danced, what she meant
was that she’d never danced in public. In her room, with a radio
and a broomstick, she’d held jaw-dropping concerts for an audience
of none. She’d danced in those days, as a girl all alone. But in
his arms it seemed her self-less abandon had found her
again.
    “ Someone told a lie,” he
teased.
    He pulled her closer, till
their bodies