Neon never glowed as brightly as it did in Mason.
Nestled in the South, cupped by forestry on one side and freed by a river on the other, Mason had neon that acted as a road to any man's pleasure.
It lined stores filled with spirits. It buzzed in the windows of local diners. It even promised ecstasy through naked illusions. Wherever neon flickered, a good time was sure to ignite.
But it was tonight that neon would paint a black girl blue.
As high as the moon hung, the night was still young. By this time, Masonians were still at their first bar of the night, on their first cloud of an oncoming high. Clubs were just starting to settle into their nightly rowdiness.
Exodus was no exception.
Out of the heat of a packed house and into the chill of an early spring, a woman stumbled out of the club's side door. Weighing on her shoulders was another woman with disheveled hair and running mascara.
Music poured out behind them as if the door had been a dam withholding a flood of chest-thumping, bone-jumping bass.
"I'm fine! Really!" the sobbing woman insisted over the rush of music.
"You're not. Alright? You in there fuckin' up the vibe. Look at yourself right now. You're a mess, and I'm taking you home," the other woman reprimanded.
The club door boomed shut, shushing the music into a mere bump in the night.
The crier sniveled, embarking on a battle to stop her tears, "I'm sorry, Aria. I really am. I just—"
"Walk straight. I can't carry you all the way to the car," Aria fussed.
"I'm sorry!" The squeal resembled a whistle that sent Aria's ears into a ringing frenzy.
Within seconds, Aria was making the same request, "Come on, hold your weight."
Just as quickly as the words were uttered, the woman collapsed, nearly clipping Aria at her shin and taking her down with her.
With a frustrated huff that sent her bangs flying up like an elephant trunk, Aria crouched down next to her best friend.
"Dee, get up. The whole East side can see up your skirt," Aria's words were quiet and rushed as if a secret were fleeing her lips. With a grip on the woman's hands, Aria leveraged her weight to bring her beloved friend to her stilettos.
"You know what? Just stay right here while I get the car, alright?" It was with stern instruction that Aria dug into her clutch purse.
"Right here?" an inebriated Dee sniffled, making the query sound as if it were that of a child's.
"Right here."
"Where's, um... Jay? He can't stand out here with me?" her voice shrunk as paranoia flooded her system.
"Jay..." Aria sighed and shook her head, finally emerging from her purse with a pair of keys in her grasp.
"Jay what? You finna' leave me out here by myself?" Dee's eyes widened, the whites of them glowing brighter than ever under the teal lighting that trimmed the building.
"Jay's not fuckin' wit' us right now," Aria murmured with eyes that burned into the club door rather than the disappointment settling into her friend's features.
Dee scrunched her eyebrows together as if they were pulled by drawstrings. "Are you for real? He can't stand out here with me for two minutes because of what? He can't handle the fact I called him out?"
"He just needs time... to cool down," Aria nodded assuringly.
Her friend wasn't convinced, murmuring profanities as she shook her head.
"I'll only be a minute, okay? Just take this, and don't talk to nobody," Aria armed her friend with a pocket knife, the one that usually dangled from her keychain.
Without protest— at least not any that were loud enough to be coherent— Dee clasped the knife and folded her arms.
Aria was off, rounding to the front of the club as fast as her wedged boots would take her.
Dee was left in the chill of the night, gripping onto a switchblade adorned with chipping pink paint.
It was with a deep sigh that she settled into her solitude.
She didn't get it.
She was completely disparaged after being accused of having one too many drinks.
You can scream. You can dance. You can even argue, but once you start crying, you're suddenly "too drunk."
The wrong song came on, and she'd been swept up in bitter nostalgia. Was it so wrong, committing the sin of vibe-killing? Vibeicide?
She scoffed, deciding to spend her time in nightlife purgatory appeasing her aching feet.
She lowered herself to the curb, fighting with the skirt of her dress to ensure it stretched low enough to cover her backside. With legs stretched outward and crossed at the ankles, she slouched into herself with folded arms.
Winter was a distant memory in the daylight, but as night donned the sky, the chill in the air was as abundant as pollen.
She was alone with her thoughts, nausea swirling about, coming in waves but never quite settling on her shore.
She lost herself in her mind as it became more cluttered with self deprecating melancholy. She hoped Aria would get her car out of the lot and up to the curb before she'd end up having another crying fit.
The breeze picked up and with it was the boom of the club door.
She jumped out of her skin at the thunderous sound, turning to watch a man get shoved out by a burly security guard.
"Well, fuck you too!" were the words of the club reject, tall with wild hair and ripped jeans.
The door slammed shut, shaking the concrete of the sidewalk.
Dee turned back around, averting her gaze before she'd be demanded to shield her attention from the scene.
She returned to her arm fold, the knife tucked into the bend of an elbow while her thumb cautiously inched on to its pushbutton.
She listened to the man's footsteps as he paced. Slow and hesitant, as if he kept stopping himself in his tracks.
His steps became another sound in the symphony of the night, and just as Dee settled into what became more and more like white noise, a defeated sigh shot through it all.
The man had settled on the curb. He was almost too far away to be considered "next" to her, but his energy was so all-consuming that she felt as if she'd been placed right in the center of his chest like a newborn.
She fought not to look at him, instead focusing on the parking lot in the distance, which looked more and more like a maze the longer she stared at it.
And that's when she remembered Aria parking a few blocks away from the club.
The lot was full, and anywhere else would've demanded money.
Street parking was their only solution. The high risk for stolen vehicles called for a lower price. The duo couldn't afford to be picky nor protective, not when a good time was at stake.
A good time that was spoiled by her tears.
A voice took hold of her ear and startled her, "Hey, you alright?"
Melodic with a nasally quality most apparent in allergy season.
She almost wondered what the source of the voice was, the answer becoming more than obvious once her gaze floated over to the man beside her.
And staring right back were a pair of big, wonder-filled eyes.
His nose was big, and his lips were too. His skin was dyed cerulean under Exodus's neon lights. His hair took the shape of a fro. Some ends poked from its form with the zeal of coils and crinkles, like a twist-out that'd been slept on and picked out at its roots.
She could tell his eyes were starry from where she sat, and as she went sightseeing in them, a silence spurred onward.
This only deepened his concern, evident as his eyebrows raised in anticipation.
She nodded, finally.
He relaxed at her answer, glancing at her tightly folded arms. "You look cold. You can take my jacket if you want."
It was with a raised eyebrow and a voice roughened by exhaustion that she asked, "So then you'll be cold?"
"Better me than you," he shrugged.
"I'm running pretty hot, but thanks anyway," was her answer, and it was true.
Those first two rounds of shots armed her with a blanket of heat that she had yet to shed.
"What'chu doin' out here anyway?"
"Waitin' for my ride."
"Oh, okay."
"Why'd they kick you out?"
"Fightin'."
She took another scan of his face. "You don't look bruised up or nothin'."
"Yeah? Well, you should see the other guy," he joked.
Dee offered a slight smile before glancing away.
"Hey, uh... I don't think I've seen you around here before," he said.
"Yeah, well, this little town is getting bigger by the day, so I'm not surprised. Shit, I've never seen you around either."
"Well... Feels good to be seen, I guess."
"Yeah... Wish you'd seen me under different circumstances, but..." she trailed off with a shrug. She was becoming self-conscious, mostly, about the mascara that had run ragged along her face.
He cracked a smile, unveiling slugs that flashed under the lights they bathed in. "It's alright. I kinda dig this look. Add some glitter in the streaks and it'll look intentional."
Her smile mirrored his before she turned her attention down the street again, checking to see if there were any cars approaching.
Nope.
"I'm Sage," his voice whipped her around again.
He was extending a hand, having to lean a bit closer to do so.
His hands were huge, as if they were used to help shape the world itself.
An array of bracelets clasped his wrist, rows of beads and straps glistening before her, including a train of small, blue evil eye amulets.
"How you wardin' off evil and calling for protection, but you fightin' in the club?" Dee blurted.
It seemed contradictory to seek out trouble while fighting it off.
He blinked. With her ping ponging gaze, she directed his attention to his bracelet. He caught the hint, a chortle escaping as another smile tugged at his full lips.
"The bracelet does the spiritual fighting. I do the physical," he answered. He saw it as armor on his mission to find trouble.
"Yeah, right," she scoffed before finally planting her hand in his. "Dee."
"Dee," he repeated as their joined hands bounced in mid-air. "That short for something?"
"Yeah."
"What's it short for?"
"It doesn't matter. No one calls me by my full name."
"Why not?"
"Because I hate it."
"Fair enough. I used to hate my name too."
"Why? I like it."
"People thought I was a girl."
"Well, there's worse things they could think you are."
"Trust me, I know," he nodded with a chuckle.
"What made you start liking your name?"
He gave half of a shrug. "Nothing else fit."
She looked at him for a while, watching his legs dismount. The knees that served as rests for his elbows, were straightened as his legs stretched out onto the gravel.
"Yeah... I can't see you as a Rodney or a Marcus or anything," she noted.
They held each other's gaze momentarily, soft smiles kissing their lips in doing so.
The sound of turning wheels accompanied the bright light that suddenly plastered Sage's skin.
He was unveiled as a caramel dream with silver toned slugs. Mocha eyes with chocolate brown hair that otherwise looked black to the naked eye.
With a hand raised to shield his big brown eyes from the twin set of headlights, Sage watched Dee as she attempted to stand with dignity.
With heels that had sunken into the gravel and a skirt that she was once again forcing down as she rose from the curb, Dee was teetering instead of standing.
A hand— his hand— found the small of her back while his voice slipped into her thoughts. "I got'cha."
She gazed up at him just as a breeze dashed past, urging them to the nearest hub of warmth.
His scent resembled that of a woody body wash, but it was the hint of citrus that made her inhale just a little deeper than usual.
"Come on," it was with gentle handling that he got her to the passenger side of the car.
"Thank you," it wasn't until she was out of his arms that the chilliness of the night finally penetrated her liquor coat.
"Yeah, no problem," he made sure she was settled in her seat and even buckled her in.
"Hey, um—"
"Hey, how ya' doin'?" He briefly greeted Aria.
She offered a smile that was nice enough, but couldn't help but think, "who the hell is this man leanin' all up in my car to put on this seatbelt?"
"Y'all get home safe now," he stepped back to close the door.
"Thanks," Aria spoke for both women, offering a stagnant hand as a goodbye.
With his head tilted to fit into her frame of sight, he bid a final farewell to Dee, "See you around, Dee."
"Darcy," she said.
He smiled— not enough to unveil the pretty penny sitting on his teeth, but just enough to make her ogle at how kissable his lips were.
"See you around, Darcy."
"I look forward to being seen... Sage."
That earned her a grin that glinted and shined even through the inky tint of a closed passenger side window.
And as the pair of women rolled out of the lot and into traffic, out of traffic and on to backstreets, Dee watched the moon trail their tire marks.
As the lights littering Mason's nightlife became few and far between, she couldn't help but notice that no star twinkled quite like the ones in Sage's eyes.
That night, as Dee was tucked into bed, her head rolled in the fleeting memory of his scent and the faint swipes of his fingertips against her.
Like a seed, he'd been planted in her thoughts, and he stayed there for weeks to no avail.
There was no remedy.
She'd even coped with copious hangovers every weekend in hopes of seeing him under neon again.
And just as her drunk encounter was written off as a hallucination, he saw her.
And damn, did it feel good to be seen.