Late that night, after it had turned dark, at about 9 o'clock, Candice left the hotel, but instead of walking she took a cab to the Meatpacking District, just beyond the West Village to Outlaws and Sinners. She hadn't seen Lacey in a couple of years, not since Lacey had left San Francisco for New York.
The bar was noisy and packed with bikers, biker chicks, and wannabes. No one noticed Candice when she entered; her skintight black leather pants and leather halter melded well with the tramp stamped, leather chapped, pierced and branded babes. She made her way through the crowd, across the spilled-beer sticky floor to the pool tables. Lacey leaned her pool cue against the table and wrapped her strong arms around her old friend.
"Wow, love the outfit," shouted Lacey over the noise of rock music. She smiled and nodded approval.
Candice stood on her toes, stretched, and kissed Lacey on the lips, not exactly a lover's kiss, but not the kiss of a casual acquaintance. They had been roommates during Candice's final year of graduate school.
Lacey was six inches taller than Candice, almost six feet tall. She was a big girl, not overweight, but a big girl, more like a female professional wrestler than a runway model. She had a mane of long brown hair, exotic olive complexion, large bright green eyes and tits that garnered constant attention; she was a beautiful urban Amazon warrioress.
The guy Lacey played billiards with was the real deal: six foot four inches tall, tattoo covered thick muscular arms, leather vest, chained wallet, skull and cross bones belt buckle, scraggly long black hair, a long goatee and other unkempt facial hair. He was taking the final shot and pointed, lined up the cue ball with the eight ball, and took a long even stroke. He didn't smile when the black ball gently fell into the far pocket.
"I'll collect later," he said. He slapped Lacey on the ass and walked away.
"That's Jake," said Lacey. "He's really not as scary as he seems, you'll see." She looked at the clock and said, "We have time for a couple of shots." She grabbed Candice's hand and led her to the bar.
The bartender and Lacey were friends - they'd worked together for a while. He laid out five shot glasses and haphazardly filled each to the brim with top shelf tequila. He grabbed one, raised it in the air and instantly downed it. But he didn't have time for small talk; it was Thursday night but the rowdy crowd was weekend thick.
Even though it was loud, Candice and Lacey managed to fill in the details of their absence - Lacey wasn't surprised at Candice's successful professional life and was glad how it turned out for her. And Candice wasn't surprised by Lacey's current professional life, and she couldn't wait to see her in action.
It was nearly 11 o'clock and Lacey shouted, "Come on, follow me. I saved a seat for you."
Lacey led Candice down a narrow hallway and through several doors. The adjacent club they entered was owned by Outlaws and Sinners but it catered to a different crowd. Before Lacey slipped into the backstage area she pointed Candice to a vacant booth. Lacey looked over her shoulder and said, "Hope you enjoy the show."
Candice smiled and shook her head. Lacey was crazy; that's why she loved her, but that's why they could never be lovers - Candice enjoyed playing on the wild side, but one day she wanted the American dream: a loving husband, a boy and a girl, a cat and a dog, a big house in the suburbs with a white picket fence... Where did that come from? She thought. I must be bombed! A topless waitress appeared with a cocktail and jolted Candice back to the present. "Anything you want, it's on the house, compliments of Lady Lacey."
