Chapter Three: The Boyfriend Problem

Author's Note: Seriously, I want to go to The Rhythm! I should build it or something... LoL. Dedicated to Karita, my new buddy and totally spiffy reviewer! She also happens to guest star in my story!

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Henry followed Chris around the wide balcony of The Rhythm, still staring in awe around him. Chris was setting up the tables for the night, for that was what the balcony was used for- eating, drinking, and talking with friends. The main floor was strictly for dancing.

The balcony was lighted only by black lights and had been originally painted all black. But Harold had been thoughtful enough to provide a continuous supply of florescent paint that glowed when under a black light, as well as plenty of paintbrushes. The patrons of The Rhythm had used it to scrawl messages and paint pictures all along the walls.

Chris glanced at them as he worked, smiling at declarations of love like "Sarah loves Ryan" that had been violently crossed out when one had wronged or broken up with the other. "So, what do you think of the place, Henry?"

"Incandiferous!"

Chris laughed. "That's a good word for it."

Henry looked pleased with himself. "I thaw it in a movie." He continued his observation of the place. "When will it open, Cwis?"

He glanced at his watch, just as crowd began to gather below. "About... now." They both moved to the edge of the balcony to survey those on the dance floor. As coats came off, erotic outfits were displayed. Chris smiled as Henry's mouth dropped. Obviously, this was one sheltered kid.

"Boys, boys, it won't do to have you drooling over the girls from up here! You need to gawk at them on the dance floor so they notice you and gawk right back." A vaguely familiar voice came from behind them. Chris turned around to see his Aunt Kara.

Kara Zidfield was an unusual woman, which is why she fit so perfectly with Harold. She was a bit on the short side at 5 and a half feet, but made up for it with platforms and almost terrifyingly high heels. She was also quite pretty, with long reddish brown hair, blue eyes, and a startlingly bright smile. Oh, and there was the fact that she was about twenty years younger than Harold.

Anymore, that fact didn't seem to matter to Chris. They blended together so well that it was basically a match made in heaven. Tonight she was wearing a short red dress with a plunging neckline, knee-high black boots, and a beret that matched her husband's.

"Hey Aunt Kara." He now noticed that the red tint of her hair had been accented by red highlights. On her, it looked good.

"Christian McDeere! It's been much too long! I'm always telling your mother to let you visit more."

He chuckled. "I think she's afraid I'll be corrupted by you and Uncle Harold."

She gasped as if surprised. "Me? Corrupt you? How dare she presume to think that?" She winked at Henry. "So, would you boys like a drink? The bar's opening."

"Not corrupting us, right, Auntie?"

"Of course not, dear." As a nearly-college age boy passed, Kara whistled at him. "Hey, Hot Stuff!"

"Aunt Kara!" Chris exclaimed. "Wait till I tell Uncle Harold."

She only smiled. "What, and you think he doesn't flirt with all those barely-dressed teeny-boppers who try to proposition him? I'm only doing my fair share."

"Good point."

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The two boys sat at the bar, sipping some concoction Aunt Kara had ordered for them. Henry looked as if he felt guilty for drinking while underage. Chris assured him that it happened all the time. They traded remarks on the various people that passed by their table. Chris pointed to the group of jocks who had been harassing Henry. "So, who are the jerks?"

"The blonde ith the foothbaw capthan. He ith the..." He searched for the right word, his forgetfulness kicking in.

"Leader?" Chris had been noticing that all of the jocks seemed to listen to the blonde and laugh and agree with anything he said or did. Monkey see, monkey do. It was amazing how idiots thought that other idiots were somehow gods that should be worshipped. Chris hated preps like that... thinking that they were somehow better than the system.

"Wight."

"What's his name?"

"Michael Duke."

Henry was still talking, but Chris didn't notice. *She* had come in the room. His perfect girl, the cheerleader. She was wearing a tight red sleeveless shirt covered in sequins, a black leather miniskirt, and a silver belly chain around her wonderfully bare midriff. Her beautiful red hair was curled into perfect ringlets that were piled on top of her head. The lights seemed to reflect off her, giving her an ethereal glow. He watched her move across the dance floor. "God..." he whispered.

"Cwis?" Henry was trying to get his attention.

"Who's she?"

His friend didn't need to ask who he meant. It was obvious by his pointed stare. "That ith Thatine Gwant."

"Satine?" Henry nodded. Satine Grant... Satine... it was a name that somehow fit her perfectly. "I think I love her, Henry." It was true... he had known it from the moment he'd seen her at school. She was the only one he could love. She was sweet, beautiful, kind, and God was she sexy... but it was more than just looks. He could *tell* that she was so much more than her beauty showed. He just knew it. And he would be the one to find out her secrets, to whisper sweet nothings to, to spend rainy days with... "I'm going to ask her to dinner."

"Oh no..." He seemed dismayed.

"What?"

"That's a bad idea, Cwis."

"Why, Henry? What's wrong with her? She's perfect!"

"Not exawy, Cwis. She's dating Michael Duke."

END CHAPTER THREE