You're Not My Flavor

Spinning Around In Circles

I know!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I FINALLY updated!!! it's probably crappy crap but at least it's something. Sorry for making you guys wait. I know it's not much, but i'm exausted. I'm going to bed. G'night.

Chapter Twenty-Spinning Around In Circles

“He took her back to the hotel, I’m sure of it.”

There’s a pause on the other line, and I hear the voice switch from Charles to Henry. “You go Bart, beat that son of a bitch - ”

“Henry, get off the damn phone - ”

“I am trying to help - ”

“You’re not doing a damn thing - ”

I hear the phone get all static-like, then Clinton’s voice booms over the other two. “Shut up, dumbasses. Bart? You there?”

I stop pacing around the sandy beach. “Yeah. Can I have some real help now?”

“Yeah. How do you know he took her back to the hotel?”

A wry smile crosses my lips. “Mitch told me all the nooks and crannies of that hotel. He has hiding places that he thinks nobody knows. But he forgot about me.”

He sighs over the phone. “Do you need help? I mean,” He lowers his voice so the others can’t hear, “I can miss the wedding.”

“No,” I growl. “Stay there. If you don’t hear from me in three hours, then you start to panic, alright?”

“Alright,” He agrees. “Be careful.”

I hang up with him. I just know Harley is back at the hotel somewhere. And I think I know exactly where. The same place where we camped out with Nora’s kids. Mitch thinks I forgot about that place, but I haven’t. There’s going to be a total surprise when he realizes who’s about to pop in.

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“Da fuck?”

My eyes wonder around the incredibly crowded hotel lobby. The whole floor has been turned into a ballroom. There’s ladies dressed in big, puffy dresses and faker hair than the capitol people in The Hunger Games. People are dancing to classy music that fills the air, and there’s a big table with all this gourmet food.

I look down to see what I’m wearing.

A t-shirt, almost ripping away as I speak, and some shorts.

Yeah…not really dressed for the occasion…

Elena spots me from across the room. Her scowl is sunk into her face as she scurries towards me. She’s dressed too, but differently; she looks like a server. My suspicions are confirmed when she comes gliding towards me while holding a black serving tray with champagne on it.

“What are you doing here? You’re not suppose to be here!” She hisses at me. 

I dumbly look around. “What’s going on?”

“The Ball, that’s what!” She scowls. “I told you last week it was tonight. You don’t pay attention when I speak!”

I do feel like she’s told me this before, but hey, it could be just a daja vu, or whatever those things are called. “Hey, Elena, have you seen Mitch at all?”

“Mitch?” She echoes. “Yes, why?”

My eyes instantly harden. “Where did she - I mean, he - go?”

“Back room, but Bart - ”

I smack my hand to her mouth. Surprised, she just stares at me. “Shut up. I have to go be a savior. Harley’s life depends on me.” Charging through the mad dancing skilled dancers, I head towards the back door. I knew he’d come back here. He didn’t expect me to come straight back. He thought I would search the airport first, huh? But he’s got an I.Q. dumber than a potato riding a pony. 

I’m smarter, faster, and younger.

Such a wrinkly old thing.

As soon as I’m about to hurtle through the door, a cold hand wraps around my bicep. “Dance with me,” A voice I know all too well purrs.

“Tati,” I sigh in irritation. It’s obvious she’s had too much to drink already. Her eyes are all float-like. She’s stumbling around like an elf high on cookie dough. It doesn’t help that she’s swishing around a glass full of wine in her hand.

“C’mon Bart,” She slurs, forcing her glass down on the counter next to her. “We must dance! I love this song!”

It’s a song she’s never heard of, I know that.

How?

It’s an orchestra.

Tati hates orchestras.

She pulls me over to the dance floor, and I try to pry away from her grip. But, Jesus, she’s like a cat that doesn’t want to back down! She swings us around and around. It’s not even classified as dancing. More like two awkward teddy bears rolling around in mud.

“Tati, I have to go.”

“No, silly, dance!”

“I really have to go…it’s important…”

“Dancing is important,” She says it so seriously I almost believe her.

Then she spins us.

And we spin, and spin, and spin, and spin….and spin.

I don’t know where she’s ever learned to dance like that, but it must’ve been one hell of a horrible dancer.

Why?

Because.

The spinning causes me to get extremely dizzy, and I stumble right into her.

Well, her and her heels go and crash into the nearest thing possible.

What’s that?

The table where all the food is being served.