"Thanks for the dance, Tank," I smiled at my dance partner. After Bosco had yielded to join me on the dance floor, "You know how people have two left feet? I've got a right and a left, I just have no rhythm," he had said with a straight face, I had examined the male dancers. Tank was the best dancer at the club, no doubt about it, and I was ecstatic when he asked me for a dance. Bosco had encouraged me to do it, so I left him at the bar with his Smirnoff. It wasn't more than 2 minutes into the song when Bosco managed to pick up a girl. They had been flirting ever since.

I looked over at the bar, where Bosco was standing. The girl was still sitting in my seat, twirling a strand of hair around her finger and giggling at every word he said. She was also spinning a straw in her Bloody Mary. She was leaning toward Bosco, her cleavage nearly falling out of her entirely too short dress. I rolled my eyes, then headed for my spot.

She was going to give me my chair back if I had to move her myself, and I wasn't up for a confrontation. I approached the bar, then leaned against it behind Bosco. The blonde gave me a dirty look, trying to ward me away from her catch. Bosco caught her glare. He turned around in the swivel chair.

"Hi, Raeanne," he smiled. I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Hi, Bosco," I tried not to cringe. Alcohol always brought back bad memories and I wish I had thought of that before I accepted his proposal. I wouldn't let it ruin my night, though. I glanced over his shoulder at the mystery girl. She was inhaling half of her cigarette. I looked back at Bosco, lifting my upper lip in disgust. Bosco grinned.

"Raeanne, I'd like you to meet Bridget. Bridget, this is my friend Raeanne, Raeanne, this is my new friend Bridget," he introduced us.

"That's Bridget, with one T," she added. I looked at Bosco and did my best not to bust out laughing. Who was this girl? Bridget smiled the cheesiest, falsest smile I had seen in decades. I fought the overwhelming urge to punch her teeth out.

"I'm going to take a quick trip to the little boys' room," Bosco announced.

"Do be quick, Bosco," Bridget spoke up. Bosco leaned toward me.

"Be good, Raeanne," he hissed loudly.

"You've known me two days and you're already telling me what to do?" I gasped. Bosco ignored my comment, leaving me with his new girl toy. I climbed onto his barstool. The warmth from his body still lingered, feeling comforting through my jeans. I turned back to Bridget reluctantly. "So..."

"What part of the City are you from?" she asked.

"I'm not originally from the City," I stated. "With your accent I guess I can say the same about you."

"You're quick, kid," she rolled her eyes, taking another drag. "I'm originally from Memphis, but I'm in New York so that I can become an actress."

"No luck in LA?" I smirked. Her eyes snapped to me. Her eyes made a quick path from my curly hair to my small feet. She smiled again. I was beginning to wonder if the perfectly white pearls were boxed or stained.

"LA's a very big city, darling," she drawled.

"So is New York," I stated smugly.

"You've got a pretty big mouth for such a little girl. You shouldn't be mouthing off to complete strangers, you might end up getting yourself hurt," she retorted, making it sound like a fact more than a threat.

"Oh, not with my Bosco around. He's a tough little shit. He takes pretty good care of me,"

"You're Bosco?" she snorted. She started to laugh hysterically, nearly dropping her Marlboro down her dress. "Oh, please. Sweetheart, you are nothing more than just a convenient friend with benefits whenever he doesn't feel like going out to get laid."

"Oh, is that so?" I laughed along with her.

"Yea, it is," she continued laughing with glee. She stopped long enough to puff on her cigarette. I stopped abruptly.

"Listen, Bridge. Sweety, darling. For your information, Maurice and I don't have sex," I said with such a sugary tone, it matched her perfectly, that I almost gagged myself. "Not in a few weeks, at least."

"Oh, so you did have a history together," she nodded, an arrogant expression slamming onto her face. This girl was so full of herself that I would place money she talked to her reflection ever morning, telling herself how beautiful she was. "Well that explains a lot about you. The jealous ex-girlfriend who tries to wedge herself between her 'man' and his new girlfriend so that she won't be all alone. Poor wattle baby."

"Bridget, you can't tell me you wouldn't break up with a guy if he had VD," I watched as a look of disgust spread across her makeup-caked face. She pressed her cigarette out in one of the ashtrays, then stood up from her seat. She pushed her bangs back from her forehead.

"Um, when Bosco comes back tell him that I'll call him," she said breathily. I smiled mischievously, watching her blonde hair bob farther and farther away from me.

"Hey," I felt a hand on my arm. Bosco watched helplessly as Bridget scurried out of the nightclub. "Where'd Bridget go?"

"She said that she was sorry, but she thought so highly of you that she couldn't continue lying to you," I said.

"What are you talking about?" he eyed me.

"She had VD, Bos," I stated. Bosco's eyes went wide. He sat down in her chair, looking somewhat stunned.

"Damn, why do all the good broads have an STD?"