THIRTY-SIX

WHERE HAVE ALL THE GOOD TIMES GONE

Hello?” Layla stepped deeper inside the club and looked all around. The way her footsteps echoed on the white concrete floors gave her the chills. It wasn’t like she’d expected a crowd, but the absolute emptiness of the place left her wondering just what exactly she’d agreed to.

In an instant, the colored lights switched off and a series of spotlights kicked in. She blinked against the sudden brightness and looked toward the far side of the room, where an image of a hand was projected onto a wall, pointing in the direction it presumably wanted her to go. Not knowing what else to do, she followed. Ira said he wanted RED to be an experience—the ultimate performance space—and so far, she had to admit she’d never experienced anything like it.

She found herself staring down a long hallway offering various doors to choose from. Ira had told her about this part as well, claiming some of them would be auditory, some visual, and all where you could choose your own ending.

At the end of the hall a pair of eyes stared back, seeming to beckon her closer. Once she’d reached a certain point, the eyes veered in the direction of the door on her right. So Layla grasped the knob and stepped inside.

The first thought that came to mind was how creepy it was.

The second was that she had no intention of staying.

She turned, eager to flee, when the door slammed shut and locked from the outside.