Excuse me, I shout, smiling. Gallant, he stands, moving the chair aside for me. A small reflective heart on his vest flashes reds and blues as I scoot past. The Sheriff of Love, I dub him. Laughter comes out through my nose as a snort.
Green neon points the way to the exit.
Drawn to it like a moth, I sashay past groping hands, dive under flailing arms. I can see that bouncer, leaning against the door. Lily materializes in front of me, joyous. Two muscles stand with her, jockeying for an intimate position. Surfer boys, I think to myself.