We probably wouldn’t have even left the grounds of the resort tonight if a promoter from Club Indigo hadn’t sidled up to us poolside and thrown us every perk in the book.
A guaranteed place at the front of the line, complimentary shuttling to and from, and a free drink ticket for each of us, and we were sold.
Apparently, it just opened last night, and they’re trying to build up a reputation in a hurry.
I pay close attention as our driver weaves through town on a tiny one-way street filled with people walking up and down the sides. There are hardly any sidewalks, but traffic sure doesn’t act like it. We move at a terrifying speed as pedestrian after pedestrian streaks past each side mirror with a millimeter of clearance.
When we pull to a stop in front of the club, neon lights shrouding the doorway in a cool glow, I don’t waste any time climbing out. Thanks to the new location, I was paying too close attention, and my nerves are shot. If the death ride had been in New York, I probably wouldn’t even have noticed.
Once my stilettos hit the pavement, I take a deep breath and shimmy my skirt down enough to ensure its coverage of my ass. The vibrating bass of the music from inside the club fills my ears and puts a buzz in my chest.
Yeah. Tonight is going to be a good night. I can already feel it.
Pippa pulls out the passes the promoter gave us at the pool, and the bouncer escorts us through the door immediately at the sight of her waving them. There’s a long, weaving line of people that starts at the door and follows the edge of the stone street along storefronts as far as the eye can see, and they are visibly displeased by our special treatment.
A tiny part of me starts to feel bad until the bouncer winks his goodbye after we’ve shuffled into the front hall. He gives no fucks, and I have to admit it makes me grin.
After a quick pass through the entry hall, we step into the mouth of the club, and my adrenaline takes off at a gallop.
There’s a cool blue glow on every surface, the edges of the tables and chairs and the whole length of the bar lined with an amazing neon piping, and the DJ booth is elevated directly in the center of the dance floor. I watch closely as the platform slowly spins, allowing the DJ to face the crowd on all sides.
A pounding beat makes the floor bounce under my feet and the blood in my veins zings with unexpected energy.
It’s fucking perfect.
And as with anything worth attending, the word has apparently gotten out. Wall-to-wall people ebb and flow against one another, and the large bar that runs the entire length of the wall on the right of the massive space is inundated with customers.
Six bartenders work tirelessly, and still, people are stacked three rows deep.
I never expected this kind of a showing for a club residing in the small, otherwise quaint town of Positano. The whole freaking population of the town has to be on the dance floor.
“Bloody hell, this is nothing like the discothèques near uni.”
I grin at Pippa. “Maybe that’s a good thing. A place like this in Milan probably would have cut into our work ethic a little.”
She nods enthusiastically and turns back to continue our push through the crowd.
It’s impossible to move without brushing against people, and the whole sensation is intensely electrifying. My skin hums, and a tiny dot of sweat forms in the middle of my boobs. It’s the kind of thing that could easily feel claustrophobic or overwhelming, but the vibe is completely energizing.
Everyone is considerate and welcoming, and I don’t feel even a little bit threatened.
Honestly, it reminds me a lot of a nightclub in New York called Monarchy. Not in music choice, really, as this place is focusing in on late-nineties, early 2000s stuff so far and Monarchy favors grassroots hip-hop, but in the feeling it gives me—like I might never want to leave.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever left Monarchy before four in the morning.
God, it’s been forever since I’ve been there.
Suddenly, the thought of home makes me miss it. As a result, despite the difficulty walking and texting in a crowd like this presents, I pull out my phone to type a quick message to my very best friend back in New York as I follow the group to the bar.
Me: Hey, Maybe baby. Sorry to interrupt your bone session with Milo, but I wanted to say hiiii.
Maybe: Hi LOL. And it’s four p.m. here. You’re not interrupting a “bone session.”
Me: Why the hell not? If I were in a committed relationship, I’d be boning at all hours of the day.
Maybe: Oh God. Can I take your excess horniness as an indication that the man ban is still going strong?!
Me: I haven’t had sex in nine months, AND I passed all of my exams. Things are grand in Italy, honey. Though I kind of…maybe…KIND OF decided I MIGHT lift the ban tonight?
Maybe: Well, it’s good that you’re sure of yourself, at least.
Me: HAHA. Yeah, thanks. I can feel your support.
Maybe: Come on, now. I’m not going to tell you what to do. You have to make the decision for yourself, right?
Me: UGH, fine. I’ll think about it.
Maybe: LOL. Keep me posted.
Me: Of course. You’ll be excited to hear I HAVE decided something without any hesitation.
Maybe: And that is?
Me: When I get back to the States, we’re going to Monarchy.
Maybe: And what exactly is Monarchy? Don’t tell me it’s an unauthorized Meghan and Harry museum. I don’t think I can handle another reenactment where you force me to be Harry.
I roll my eyes and laugh. She loves to act like she doesn’t understand my obsession with the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, but I know how she really feels.
Me: It was ONE time. And no offense to Milo, but I’m pretty sure it was the best kiss of your life.
Maybe: HA! It was via FaceTime.
Me: And whose fault is that? I tried to get you to come visit me in Italy, but you’re all “I’m busy.” It could have been the real deal, and you know it.
Maybe: Hey now! You KNOW I’m busy.
Me: Yeah, yeah. Work, fiancé, wedding planning. I get it. But when I get home, no excuses! You’re carving out time for Monarchy—which is a nightclub in Bushwick, btw.
Maybe: Bushwick?!
I laugh. I’ve known Maybe Willis for nearly two years, but it feels like we’ve been friends for my entire life. She is adorable and sweet and the cute kind of awkward that makes it impossible to dislike her.
Me: You’ll have fun, I promise.
Maybe: Yeah, the last time you said that was right before you left for Milan and we ended up doing a bar crawl in Harlem.
Me: And you had fun!
Maybe: Had fun??? I was hungover for two days, and Milo had to come pick us up at three in the morning because we forgot how Uber worked.
Me: Yeah, but he loved every second of it. Drunk Maybe = Horny Maybe. In fact, maybe if you went to Monarchy, you wouldn’t act like boning at four in the afternoon is so out of the question.