by Rachel Cohn
Zeke answered by jumping up onto the counter and joining in the line dancing. He tried to bump and grind Nestor Castillo, who was not having that from another dude, and immediately jumped down onto the ground. That took care of half the problem immediately. Then Zeke started performing a Magic Mike knockoff routine that looked ridiculous, but also hilarious. The crowd chanted, “Zeke! Zeke! Zeke!” and Amy actually looked relieved to have the attention taken away from her, like she’d been trapped by her own exploits and had needed the Zeke diversion to escape. She looked at me plaintively, and I moved closer to give her a hand to step down.
“Dizzy!” Amy said. I put my arm around her to hold her up, and spied Olivier Farkas watching us from the side of the room. I dragged Amy to Olivier, and she plopped down onto the floor for a break, or a nap, I’m not sure which.
“You promised, Olivier,” I said. “Don’t let me down.”
“Sorry, Vic,” Olivier said. “I got distracted by that over there.” He pointed toward the Make-Out Your Own Sundae Bar, where Fletch was dipping a spoon into a bowl of ice cream. Fletch took a lick, and then turned to kiss Emerson Luong. Fletch pulled back, took another lick of ice cream, and turned to her other side to kiss Raheem Anthony. Damn, I had no idea my girl had that level of party trick in her. Applause.
“Don’t look,” I advised Olivier. “It’ll all be over by morning, and she’ll be gone for the next year, at least.”
Olivier looked like he might weep. Amy placed his head on her shoulder, and then placed her own head against his.
Perfect. Those two were settled. Now I just needed to control the beer bottle smashing. Or did I?
Once again, I was shot in the face with a marshmallow. “Guess what, Miss I-Only-Invite-Classmates-on-the-Official-Class-Phone-Tree?” Evergrace Everdell taunted me.
“WHAT?” I yelled. I had more important demands on my time than handling Evergrace Everdell’s brand of nonsense.
Evergrace said, “You’re worried about Thrope showing up? What you really should be worried about is the two busloads of Happies parked outside.”
There were not enough variations of the word “fuck” to express the panic I felt. A convergence of bona fide Happies at the Last Call at Happies party was one possibility I hadn’t factored into my In Case of Disaster planning.
The party couldn’t survive an intrusion of this proportion.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Evergrace answered my pause of incredulity at this bad news by popping a barrage of three more marshmallows at my head.
“Could you not do that?” I screeched, as she reloaded her gun from the marshmallow ammunition belt around her waist. “And who told the Happies about the party?” I was thinking aloud, not really expecting an answer to that question, but Evergrace had one.
Evergrace said, “I posted about the party on the Happies online message board. I didn’t alert Thrope but I did alert the Happies. I thought at least I should be inclusive about the party since you so rudely weren’t, and the Happies are the people who’d most want to enjoy the restaurant one last time.”
“Tattletale,” I muttered. Just as I’d anticipated.
Everbitch didn’t hear me, and continued on. “But I just saw some of them pulling bolt cutters out from the coach storage area. I think the Happies came to tear down the fence to the old theme park before it’s too late.”
I had to nip this problem in the bud immediately. I looked toward Zeke, still dancing on the countertop, smiling at me like all hell wasn’t breaking loose.
“HELP ME!” I shouted.
Before going outside, I first took a quick peek through my cardboard window peephole. I saw two tour buses parked in the outside lot, hordes of Happies spewing from their depths. The fan folk were mostly middle-aged, wearing vintage Happies theme park uniforms, old Happies soda jerk hats, and Happies sashes lined with pins and patches, just like the man who had approached Bev at graduation. They kept busy pulling items out of the storage area below the bus: a ladder, large floodlights, what looked to be a mobile cotton candy machine, and many tubs of beer. The bolt cutters were a waste, though, because the Happies theme park fence was cement, not wire.
Zeke stood next to me at the window, his multicolored pompadour brushing my cheek. He leaned in to my ear and sang aloud from the tune playing on the restaurant speakers. “You gotta FIGHT…for your RIGHT…to PAAAAARty….”
“This is a disaster,” I muttered.
“Nah,” he said, unconvincingly.
“I don’t know what the hell to do,” I confessed. My veneer of false confidence had disappeared. I didn’t even have that to count on in this situation.
Zeke grabbed my hand and I felt oddly comforted by the big warmness of it. “So we’ll do it together.”
He led me outside, and somehow, I found my courage.
I approached a plump, late-middle-aged woman wearing a vintage candy-striped Happies waitress uniform, with a sash full of medals and ribbons. She was holding a megaphone, so I guessed she was in charge of this brigade, which I feared could grow exponentially bigger. Bev Happie always said anytime she saw a Happies fan decked out in memorabilia, she knew at least two dozen more were following. They swarmed like ants.
I cleared my throat and said, “Can I help you? I assume you know Happies is closed now. No longer in business.”
“HAPPIES IS CLOSED?” the lady yelled into her megaphone, only she addressed the tour bus people, not me.
“HELL, NO!” the crowd responded, like they’d been practicing on the bus.
I said, “No, really, it’s closed! I’m so sorry! Bev Happie would be honored you came to the restaurant tonight, but…”
The megaphone lady said, “We’re not here for the restaurant, darling. We got in all the burgers and fries we wanted before we left Vegas.”
She left me no other option than the scariest tactic available to me: outright honesty. “I’m Victoria Navarro, and I’m in charge here tonight. I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave—”
“I’m Joan, sweethearts,” the megaphone lady interrupted. “And we’ve come too far and just spent too much money on supplies at Home Depot for us to return to Vegas now!”
“Vegas isn’t that far,” said Zeke, taking her literally.
She said, “We don’t live in Vegas, cutie hair patootie. We’re Happies who get together a few times a year in Vegas. We’re from all over. Imagine our delight when we saw the message posting about the Happies’ final party here tonight.” I’m going to kill you, Evergrace Everdell. “No chance we wouldn’t take this grand opportunity for one last visit!”
Joan turned to address drivers of the tour buses through her megaphone. “TURN THOSE HEADLIGHTS ON! WE NEED SOME LIGHT ON THE FENCE!”
“No headlights!” I ordered, to no effect whatsoever. The bus headlights turned on, illuminating the fence quite effectively. “Don’t do this!” I begged Joan.
Zeke pulled a ten-dollar bill from his pocket and flipped it in her direction. “Maybe this would help to get those buses turned back around?”
Joan let out a giant laugh. “Aren’t you adorable,” she said to Zeke.
Zeke said, “I’m very dangerous, actually. And I’ll need to defend Happies against this intrusion.”
Joan said, “If you’re dangerous, I’m the ghost of Mary Happie. And thousands of dollars couldn’t keep us away.”
“Millions?” Zeke offered.
Joan laughed again. But I knew: If Zeke had millions (or even thousands), he’d have given it to them without hesitation to save my ass.
And then, a huge rumble from down the highway alerted me that the busloads of Happies weren’t my night’s biggest problem. The situation was so much worse. A biker gang, fifty or so riders in all, on very loud Harleys, rode into the parking lot.
“Now this is melt-your-dick-off awesome,” said Zeke. I looked at him like, Not helping! “Also terrifying,” Zeke added.
It all happened so fast. A gust of dirt like a whirling dervish swept across the parking lo
t, and the bikers stopped their Harleys in a formation, five aisles of ten or so bikers, behind one leader who stopped his bike front and center. The guys wore leather jackets and chaps, with bandannas on their ponytailed heads, and they were old-school patriarchy, with their female companions sitting behind them dressed the same, but with more boob action rising up from beneath their half-zippered jackets.
They were zombie-level scary-looking, and somehow it was up to me to protect my classmates from them.
This was not how I’d foreseen the night going. The worst thing that had ever happened in the history of a Happies senior class party was my dumbfuck brother and his friends and their ditch-digging mission. That now seemed quaint in comparison. Nowhere in my memory databank of Happies’ parties was there a potential gang war between competing caravans of biker dudes and elderly Happies disciples. Neither faction of whom had been invited.
As the engine noise quieted down, my classmates began to stream outside to see what the commotion was about. There was a palpable excitement in the air. I could feel it in my sweaty armpits and panicked breath. I looked to the side of the restaurant, hoping Jake would appear to help or take control of the situation, as the eldest local dude representing Rancho Soldado High School’s alumni tonight, but he was nowhere to be seen. Nor were Fletch and Slick. The wall of defense was just me and an overgrown man-boy with rainbow-poufed middle hair and tunnel ears.
The motorcycle leader stepped off his bike. He looked like Hulk Hogan, with leathered skin to go along with his leather jacket, a long goatee growing from his chin, and…now that I could see closer, Happies badges and pins bedazzling his jacket, along with the Happies’ patches sewn onto leather sides?
“Joan!” he called to the megaphone lady.
“DELROY!” she megaphoned. “YOU OWE ME TWENTY BUCKS! TOLD YA WE’D GET HERE FIRST.”
Delroy the biker said, “You got a head start. Traffic cops don’t like making way for the Happies’ Angels down the Strip.” He looked around. “Anyone in charge here?”
Zeke boldly stepped forward. “I am.” I was startled, but impressed. When had that boy grown a pair? Certainly his dick had not melted off in this heat.
“I got this,” I murmured to him. Maybe it was adrenaline, but my false confidence had kicked back in.
“You’re sure?” he whispered.
“I guess,” I whispered. Zeke was by my side, backing me up. I could handle this.
“Actually, I’m in charge,” I announced, and approached the bike leader. “I’m Victoria Navarro. Bev Happie authorized me to throw a private event here tonight. I’m so sorry if the word didn’t get out that Happies is no longer open to the public.”
“Aren’t you a misinformed sassy lassie,” Delroy said cheerfully. He walked toward me with his hand outstretched, and grabbed mine into a death grip handshake. “Nice to meet you, Victoria Navarro. I’m Delroy Cowpoke. Pleased as could be to be called forth to celebrate this heavenly occasion.”
I was too scared to actually laugh at his name, or laugh that he said it with exactly no irony, but I did hear Zeke snort. “What occasion is that?” I asked.
“Why, we’re going to bring the Happies theme park back to life for one last party before Bev sells off the land. Of course, darlin’!”
“You can’t do that!” I beseeched Delroy Cowpoke. “I promised Bev no one would go into the theme park.”
“And I’m sure you meant it when you promised it,” he answered.
“You know there are ghosts of dead Union Army soldiers in the cemetery, right? And the ravine is spooked by the spirits of Native American warriors! They don’t like intruders!” I couldn’t believe I’d tried Bev Happie’s old line, but what other defense did I have against two busloads and a biker gang of Happies?
Delroy Cowpoke laughed. “We’re counting on that!”
I tried to stop this madness with all I had left—pretty much, nothing. “The fence is locked! Only Bev has the key to open it!”
Delroy said, “No problem.” He picked up a piece of dirt from the ground and crumbled it through his fingers. “See how dry this land is? All it needs is one good earthquake to shake it loose.” He turned around to address his troops. “Happies’ Angels Troop 119, please rev your engines.” A deafening roar zoomed across the parking lot as the bikers revved their engines. “Full throttle!” Delroy instructed, like he was the captain of the fucking starship Enterprise. The bikers throttled their engines, creating a huge sound wave. The Happies bus people, and Zeke and I, and some of my partying classmates who’d wandered outside, all placed our hands over our ears and ducked for cover in case window glass went flying. It was a good thing I’d lined the front windows of the restaurant with cardboard, or those windows would have blown out immediately from their proximity to the throttle. “Harder!” Delroy commanded. The bikers revved harder, and louder, and I swear I thought I was going to lose my hearing entirely.
POP! POP! POP! A window on the bus closest to the biker gang shattered. There was no opportunity for the crowd to react, though, because in the next instant, the theme park fence built into the dry, parched earth fell over. Just like that.
Cheers erupted from the Happies bus people, and my classmates. My heart a little bit died.
The portal to the other world had been successfully broken by the seismic noise. The busloads of Happies ignored their shattered bus windows and immediately swarmed over to the giant clown face entrance, stepped over the fence on the ground, and streamed into the theme park, with the partying senior class of Rancho Soldado High School following behind them.
“Fuck!” was all I could say. I could handle some goofball drunk classmates dancing on countertops and damaging restaurant fixtures and backing up toilets. I could have handled Thrope trying to shut down the party. But this? This level of chaos was not one I could even begin to control.
This craziness was all Bev Happie’s fault. Leaving a teenager in charge of a major party was a huge mistake. Totally irresponsible.
“Yippee!” Delroy Cowpoke shouted. “Let’s go!” The bikers stepped off their bikes. Delroy looked at me and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll tell Bev I did it. Me and her got a history. I always promised her that one day I’d show her real earthquake weather. Harley-style! Yee-HAH!”
He led the bikers into the theme park as, once again, I stood in place, dumbfounded and unable to move. I didn’t even speak up to charge them admission.
Zeke snapped his fingers in my face, trying to break me out of my shock. “I hear Clown Town’s now open for business. Shall we?” He extended his arm to me like a gentleman.
I told Zeke, “I guess if I can’t beat ’em, might as well join ’em.”
I was crushed by my failure to anticipate this madness. But admittedly, my heart was also a little bit reborn at the prospect of experiencing the theme park before it was gone.
I borrowed Zeke’s arm until I could find and take Jake’s instead, and together we ventured forth toward the forbidden land.
“BRIGHTNESS BEACONS!” Joan wailed into her megaphone. A small army of Happies surrounded her, carrying lawn chairs, musical instruments, food and ice chests, and lighting. Through her booming mouthpiece, Joan directed the Happies carrying floodlights. “You, take that one to the Ghost Cemetery. You guys, take the smaller lights and line them up in Bygone Rancho. You, with the flashing lights. Take them to Lovers Lane.”
The Happies needed no maps or further directions. They immediately splintered and headed off to their disparate locations, which apparently they remembered even though the park had been closed for fifteen years. They had cheat sheets, too, as a few of them wore vintage Happies T-shirts with the old park’s map printed on the backs.
I embrace you, Chaos.
What else was I supposed to do? Call Bev Happie and be like, Er…sorry, Bev, but two bus caravans of Happies and a Happies-obsessed troop of Hells Angels sort of…um…created an earthquake to topple the theme park fence. Now everyone’s trespassed into the park and
it’s no longer a senior class party happening in your restaurant, but, like, a middle-of-the-night, macabre desert carnival. Oops? All the drunk-ass minors are the least of my complications tonight! Ha-ha, it’s funny, right? Are you still there, Bev?
I was too scared to call Bev or some other Responsible Adult Person in Charge for help, and I had no idea where Fletch and Slick were, so I consulted my usual default, and sent a text to Lindsay.
So a biker gang literally just broke down the fence to the theme park and the party has moved in there. It’s sort of amazing, but also terrifying. What the fuck should I do?
Lindsay texted back: Holy shit! Are you safe?
I clarified: It’s a Happies biker gang.
She replied with ☺ ☺ and this wisdom: Fuck it. Enjoy it. Find out if Pinata Village is still there. It was kiddie rides surrounded by trees with piñatas hanging down from most every branch. It was mental. Send me pix!
Before we followed the crowd’s surge past the tumbled fence and into the old Clown Town, I first stopped at the Chug Bug. But the beer truck’s lights were off, the raised roof down, the counters folded in. The Chug Bug was closed for business, apparently, and Jake was nowhere to be found.
“Where do you think your brother went?” I asked Zeke.
“Follow the skirt trail. At least that’s what Mom says when she can’t find him.” Zeke pointed toward a pack of tipsy girls wobbling around another giant clown face—smaller than the one at the entrance, but big enough to slide all over. I didn’t address Zeke’s put-down of Jake because another form of disrespect commanded my attention, and I was immediately called to action when one of the girls lit a sparkler and tried to insert said sparkler up the clown’s nose. I raced toward the group loitering on the innocent, fallen clown. It was bad enough a Barbie had been senselessly tortured tonight. I wouldn’t let it happen to the clown, too. Not on my watch. I pulled out the sparkler from the clown’s nostril, threw it to the side, and furiously stepped on it to put out the flames. “Guys! Please, nothing flammable in here!”