Lights flashed, a syncopated beat. The club was cramped and dark, and every pulse, every flash of light, every time the beat dipped, it urged hips to swap in dark pulses. That was the trick, to make you ride that wake, feel like you’re at the edge of music, dancing on a needlepoint no angel could rest on. Tonight was *her* night. tonight was the night she’d dance and party with the best of them. With her friends. Tonight was the night she’d scream at the world that the past didn’t matter: th...