A/N: So the story continues...thanks for the reviews so far, and thank you Flower3 for the suggestion, I didn't even know I was blocking anyone! Also, for those who care to look at it, my disclaimer is up in Chapter One. Read review enjoy!
Chapter Two
"Paige...hey Paige, Paige!!" shrieked Phoebe from the passenger seat of the Halliwell SUV.
Paige threw a casual glance her way before turning her attention to the road again. "What?" she asked.
"You just passed that parking spot over there," Phoebe cried, pointing behind them. "Great. Now it's taken."
Paige laughed. "Don't worry about it, sis. I don't need a parking space, they have VIP parking over there."
Phoebe leaned back in her seat. "Oh," she said. She turned to her younger sister. "So, what's this place like, exactly?"
"The Fire Den? You really haven't heard of it, haven't you?" Paige asked, a little disbelievingly.
"Oh come on!" Phoebe said defensively. "My life consists of—" she counted off her fingers "—You, Piper, the Charmed duty, and..." she trailed off.
"Cole," Paige finished for her helpfully.
Phoebe sighed. "Yeah."
"Don't worry about it, Pheebs, we're here so you can live up a little. No mention of Cole today, alright?" Paige looked over at her sister at the red light. Phoebe nodded.
Paige pulled up to a building with huge red double doors and a red carpet running from under them out onto the sidewalk. The sign above the doors read, in big fiery letters, THE FIRE DEN. There was a huge crowd around the doors, despite it still being light outside. Phoebe arched an eyebrow at Paige. Paige shrugged. "I told you—"
A big burly man tapped on the window. Paige scrolled it down. "Excuse me, no—" the man began to say. Then he stopped as he recognized the driver. "Paige!" he exclaimed. "Please excuse me. How are you?"
Paige smiled at the man. "I'm great, thanks for asking, Manuel." She gestured at Phoebe. "This is my older sister, Phoebe. She'll be with me tonight."
The bouncer tipped his bald head in Phoebe's direction. She smiled in return, though a bit bewildered. "So, I'll just let Raul take the car," said Manuel, turning his attention back to Paige.
"Sure thing," Paige replied, stepping out of the car. Phoebe followed suit. Manuel parted the crowd for them, and they went straight into the club. "See you later!" Paige called as Manuel shut the door behind them. And then they were in.
Phoebe looked around as they went further into the club. It was definitely—hardcore. Hard, pumping music reached its way into her ears as she looked at the numerous bar contests all around her. And it was still 5:30, she mused. Phoebe looked over to her left and saw, in the distance, a stage with a bunch of stripper poles, which were at that moment unoccupied. A small smile flitted across her lips at the sight.
She turned her attention to the crowds, which Paige had already lost herself in. Lots of grinding on the dance floor, waitresses on bar tables wearing leotards, not many places to sit (though quite a few VIP rooms), kegger contests, the endless array of red décor...it was the anti-P3.
It was exactly what she needed, Phoebe thought.
Fifteen minutes later...
Phoebe sat at one of the quieter bars with her piña colada, swirling her drink with the umbrella. She had been out dancing just a few moments ago before heading to the bar. "To get a drink," as she told Paige. Truth was, she was really in her element, dancing the night away—until a guy came a little too close and pressed a little too hard on her. Then she didn't know what to do.
Not that she didn't like this place, this Fire Den. Phoebe really had to hand it to Paige when it came to her connections, and to her taste. In fact, just a year or so ago this place would have been Phoebe's all time favorite place to go. She sighed into her straw. What did happen to wild old Phoebe? When did she have to be so...mature all the time? Why could Paige dance like there's no tomorrow yet she can't stand the press of a male body that wasn't Cole's?
I thought there would be no mention of Cole today, sounded a snide voice in Phoebe's head. Phoebe sighed again and was about to slide back in her chair when she remembered a little too late that bar stools don't have backs.
She suddenly felt a firm hand on her back, steadying her. "Whoa there," said a male voice, though slightly higher pitched than an average man's. "Careful." The man gave her a slightly concerned look, then smiled and slid into the stool next to Phoebe's. "Thought you were tipsy for a second, but you seem sober enough..." he grinned and held out his hand. "I'm Duane. Club manager here at Fire's."
She took it. "I'm Phoebe."
"So, what's up, huh? You don't seem to be enjoying yourself much."
Phoebe shook her head quickly, fully aware she was talking to the manager of the club. "Oh, no, no," she insisted. "I really like the club, actually. The mood. But..."
"Let me guess," Duane cut her off. "Relationship problems. Your man giving you problems?"
Phoebe shrugged, looking away. "Kind of."
"Oh, come on," Duane said, completely good-natured about it. "You can tell me. Not giving away government secrets, are ya?"
Phoebe contemplated her options. It would be so nice to talk to somebody outside of the family, for once, to just pour her heart to a stranger. A Charmed heart, with Charmed secrets, something in her cautioned.
"Oh, I don't know...nothing's the matter, really," Phoebe said, immediately appalled at how phony she sounded. "On second thought, I take that back."
Duane grinned and leaned on the bar counter, waiting for her to talk. She did, hesitantly. "Well, the thing about my boyfriend is that he's so overprotective," she began. Duane nodded, encouraging her. She became a bit more emboldened. "I mean, honestly, I can fend for myself. Just because I'm female doesn't mean I'm weak. C—Conrad, on the other hand, thinks otherwise."
Duane gave her a slightly strange look. "Are you talking about him fending for you physically, or emotionally, in a way?"
Phoebe averted her gaze to the crowd. Of course no ordinary person would protest their boyfriend from protecting them from robbers, or whatever. This was harder than she thought. "Emotionally, of course," she said finally. "Jealousy, I mean." She looked into her glass, which was filled with nothing but dregs. "I can't stand it sometimes. Is it just me? Because independence is so important to me." She let out something between a snort and a grunt. "Not that I've had much choice in that issue." Phoebe thought about her situation. Always needing the Power of Three, her and her sisters were dependent on each other for that. And there was also the factor of not having a job, and just being out of college...
"Ah." Duane looked at Phoebe with an air of benevolence for a few seconds. "How 'bout this. I usually don't offer this to newcomers—its only for the regulars—but I think you may be helped by it." He motioned at the bartender. "Jacob, get me a Fire Brew for this young lady."
"Fire Brew?" she inquired.
"That's right. Specialty of the Den." Jacob placed a shot of in front of Duane. He took out a lighter, and lit the surface. Nothing spectacular happened, except for three wisps of smoke that puffed out of the surface. "It's crucial to the formula," he told her.
Phoebe suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and saw Paige, looking a bit tired out but happy nonetheless. "Hey Phoebe, hey Duane," she greeted them.
Duane looked delighted. "You two know each other?" He got the attention of the bartender again. "Another Fire Brew for Paige," he informed him. "One for me, too."
They clinked shots when they were all ready. "Bottoms up," he cheered.
