Life of the Party

by Christine Anderson

  “No, you’re hot.” I argued. And she was, she could’ve been a runway model, her dress fit her so perfectly. Charlie shrugged, and smiled.

  “Just wait until I’m done with you.” She promised. I shook my head. We had less than half an hour. Not near enough time for a miracle.

  I wasn’t really paying attention to what Charlie was doing. I was nicely high by that point, content, happy. She began drawing around my eyes with a pencil. Her hands were soft and smelt like lotion.

  “How old are you?” I asked her suddenly.

  Charlie smiled. “Nineteen. You?”

  “Seventeen.” I admitted morosely. Everyone was older than me. “Do you think I’m too young?”

  “Too young?” Charlie thought a moment. “Quit squinting. No, you’re not too young for this crowd, that’s for sure.”

  “Why?”

  “Honey, if anyone gives you any flak for your age, it’s only because they’re jealous. They wish they still had your excuse to act the way they do.”

  “They wish they were still seventeen?”

  Charlie nodded. “It’s easier to get away with it all when you’re that young. You are expected to become responsible at some point, you know.” She leaned back and surveyed my face. “There, all done.”

  “Thanks.” I got up and looked in the mirror, wishing now that I had paid attention to whatever Charlie had done. It didn’t look like me, staring back at me. This girl had cheekbones and large, dark eyes—smouldering eyes—deep, full red lips. I gazed back at Charlie in surprise.

  “Told you,” she shrugged, and began painting her own face. I was amazed. I did look hot. Older, too. I liked that a lot.

  “What should I do with my hair,” I asked her, pulling my hands through the long, dark curls.

  “Umm … put it into a ponytail, like you do, with some left in the front. And make the top … big.” She demonstrated. I nodded and got to work. We primped and preened—Charlie shook out her blond curls, she pulled on her tight black knee-high boots and leant me some distressed silver-black heels, high and pretty with a closed toe.

  I couldn’t believe how good I looked. I didn’t want to be vain, but couldn’t help just staring at myself in the mirror. Charlie noticed and began to giggle at me. I laughed too, a mixture of weed and excitement and complete disbelief. This was going to be a great night. I lit a smoke to try and calm down my nerves.

  “I think they’re here.” Charlie exclaimed a few moments later, as the dim noise of a car horn caught our attention. I looked at her desperately, suddenly horribly afraid and overcome by nervousness. She rolled her eyes and smiled at me.

  “Relax. He’s not going to know what hit him.”

  I let her lead us back through the house, flicking off lights as we went. We grabbed our bags and headed for the door. I prayed I wouldn’t trip down the long flight of stairs in my heels and break a bone or something. My smoke was like a security blanket—it gave me something to do, made me seem preoccupied. Charlie waved in the direction of headlights and closed the door behind us.

  Somehow I made it down the stairs and to the car. I felt young again, like a tagalong, trailing behind Charlie like a little sister. It made me angry at myself and I took a breath, willing myself to be brave and more confident.

  “Hey.” I recognized his voice before I saw him. A smile lit my face instantly, and suddenly, I wasn’t nervous anymore. Suddenly, it all felt fairly natural apart from the excited, ramped up beating of my heart. Grey stood before me then, next to the opened car door, and smiled as he took in my appearance.

  “Mackenzie,” was all he said, but I could tell he approved. His blue eyes were darker, gleaming, his face freshly smooth from shaving. A hint of a grin curled his lips, almost a smirk, smug. He had on dark blue jeans and a tight black shirt—I could see his muscles hard against the fabric. If I have ever come close to swooning, it was then.

  Grey gently pushed an errant dark curl off my shoulder, his fingers brushing my collarbone as he did so. I shivered delightfully. He held the door open and motioned for me to get in. I slid into the middle of the seat, squeezing up close to Alex—the other passenger—as Grey got in beside me. The backseat was fairly small, making for imminent body contact. His cologne wafted toward me with the whoosh of air from the car door shutting, and his thigh pressed against mine as he made himself more comfortable. I was nearly dizzy with elation.

  Charlie hopped into shotgun, smiling excitedly. Zack shut her door and walked around the front of the car, getting into the drivers seat. He was good looking, about the same age as Grey with blonde, mullety hair that actually suited him. Multiple piercings hung from numerous places; a muscle shirt showed off the full sleeve of tattoos that covered his arms. Charlie smiled at him as he started the car.

  We all adjusted in our close quarters. Grey rested his arm along the top of the seat, not quite hugging me, but I could feel the warmth of his skin along the back of my neck.

  “Mackenzie—Alex, and Zack.” Grey introduced. I smiled at them both.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Alex nodded. He was fairly scrawny; his face was as long as his sandy blond hair, but his smile was winning, and I could tell right away that he was a ton of fun.

  “Let’s get fucked up!” he shouted, “come on Zackie!” he gripped the back of Zack’s seat, banging it a few times. Zack laughed and revved the engine in agreement. I didn’t know what kind of car we were in, something older, with faded silver paint and blue upholstered seats. The engine sounded impressive anyway. I grinned as Zack suddenly slammed his foot on the gas and we squealed into the street.

  “Music!” Alex demanded. Charlie pulled out a thick black binder full of CD’s and started going through them. Meanwhile, Alex handed me a joint he had just rolled and I took a drag. Someone produced a flask and started passing it around. I took a swig, my eyes instantly watering, my mouth burning as I choked it down.

  “What was that?” I asked when I recovered my breath. Grey had been watching me with amusement.

  “Appleton Jamaican, 151 proof. You took it like a champ.” He laughed.

  “Well, I’m nothing if not a champion drinker.” I joked.

  Charlie put Godsmack into the CD player, and soon Moon Baby was deafening us through the speakers. A dizzying combination of weed and rum moved steadily around the car, passing in a ceaseless circle that included our driver. I didn’t even think to be scared or worried, a far off distant lecture about getting in with a drunk driver barely occurred to me, and I easily ignored it. Obviously Zack had this under control.

  “How are you feeling now?” Grey asked quietly, about an hour into our trip. He lowered his mouth wonderfully close to my ear to be heard. His breath gave me delicious shivers, my skin goose bumps.

  “Amazing.” I breathed.

  “Just you wait.” He promised. His hand played with the curls from my ponytail. I was in heaven.

  “Where are we going? What are we—?”

  “Just you wait,” he chided. His hand moved from my hair, his fingers slowly tracing a trail down my neck, then up again. “By the way … you look amazing.”

  I blushed. “I do?”

  “You know you do.” His voice was lower, guttural. I smiled.

  “Thanks.” The feel of his fingers was addictive. My heart began to beat harder at his touch, however slight. I clenched my hands against my legs. He chuckled and stopped, placing his hand back against the seat, allowing me to catch my breath—but I missed his fingers the moment they lifted. I bit my lip and tried to calm myself.

  Soon we could make out city lights on the horizon. Alex cheered. I laughed, fairly wasted already just from the drive in, let alone whatever was happening later. The talk and laughter was rowdy and lively inside the car. Alex and Grey were arguing about some bands I’d never heard of; Charlie was trying to regale me with a work story from the front seat. Zack would throw a few words into the band conversation. We weaved through the city traffic, the streetlamps lighting t
he interior of the car as we passed beneath them.

  Finally we pulled into a parking lot filled with vehicles. I looked out the window in interest, but the street was fairly dark. The only thing that made sense to my poor befuddled brain was the turquoise blue, neon sign perched atop a brick building. It said “The Drink” in large green letters, with a martini angled off the side of it.

  “We’re going to a club?” I asked Grey excitedly. “But I’m not old enough—”

  “Leave that to me. Come on.” He opened the door and helped me out. As soon as I stood up, I nearly fell over. I hadn’t expected to be so wasted, it took me by surprise. Grey laughed and steadied me.

  “You okay?” His hands were warm on my bare arms.

  “Yeah.” I laughed happily. Better than okay. Great, wonderful … ecstatic.

  “Come on.” Grey took my hand in his and pulled me towards the entrance. Alex and Zack and Charlie were walking ahead of us. As we turned the corner, I was amazed to see the long line of people waiting to get in the club. It stretched nearly the entire block. I looked up at Grey but he didn’t seem disappointed, like he hadn’t anticipated a wait at all.

  I soon understood why. When the two large, intimidating men at the entrance saw us coming, they immediately pulled back the rope and let us all through. Grey spoke with them briefly—I didn’t hear the conversation, but I did notice that they called him Mr. Lewis. I raised my eyebrows at the VIP treatment and smiled.

  “I didn’t know your last name was Lewis.” I kidded.

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.” Grey smirked. He grasped my hand again and we made our way inside. I looked around; this club was nothing like the Aurora at home. Modern and new, the décor was mostly black and white, with splashes of vibrant blues and greens and oranges in just the right places. The main floor was dedicated almost entirely to the dance floor, clear Plexiglas atop swirls of fluorescent color, surrounded by tall white and black plastic chairs. A shooter bar flanked the left side, and a large spiral staircase took up most of the right. The place was packed, the music thumped over the noisy din.

  CHAPTER 11

  “This way, Mr. Lewis.” A server appeared from nowhere, and motioned for us to follow. “The rest of your party has already arrived.”

  “Great.” We followed the waitress, who led us up the staircase. The top floor was full of circular tables surrounded by more tall plastic chairs, impossibly tall backed booths lined the walls, and all of them were full. The tables were made to mimic the dance floor. There was a bar for every wall but one, the back wall the server was leading us to. She pushed back a nearly indiscernible curtain that opened to reveal another staircase, this one much smaller than the first. Above us was another floor, similar to the one below. There were no single tables, only the larger, tall backed booths about twice the size of the usual. Each was up on its own platform, closed in by a curtain surrounding it.

  “VIP?” I asked him.

  “Nothing but.” Grey laughed wryly. We ushered in through the curtain to join the people already there, seated around the back of the booth. The lights were dim, which I liked. The tabletop was like the others, clear Plexi over lights, the cushions upholstered in soft black and white vinyl. Grey introduced us before we sat.

  “Mackenzie, this is Jimmy, Tom and Lucas. You may recognize them from the killer band Serpentine.” Grey chuckled and made a sign in the air. The band mates cheered with a cacophony of curses. Jimmy was younger, with dark black hair in a faux hawk—he smiled at me politely. Tom and Lucas must have been brothers, though Tom looked to be in his late thirties and Lucas seemed younger, they shared the same shaggy brown hair and large, bushy eyebrows.

  “Bass, keys, and our manager.” Grey explained. I nodded. “And beside them are the lovely ladies Natasha, Tracy and Lori.” I smiled, and waved once at them all, but the girls barely acknowledged me. I scarcely had time to look them over before we were moving to sit down, but I noticed lots of make-up, and skin, and a general expression of utter boredom.

  We squeezed into the booth, Grey on one side of me, Charlie on the other. I was thankful to be past the scrutiny, to sit and relax. I lit a smoke. Grey was talking to Alex on the other side of him. I heard someone order champagne for everybody, and my eyebrows raised again. Was this how they always partied? How could they afford it?

  A lady came around with hand-blown crystal flutes, filling them halfway with sparkling, honey coloured champagne. I looked around, but nobody was drinking theirs. It was like they were waiting for something.

  After a few minutes Tom called us to attention. I did my best to lean over Grey without blocking Charlie’s view, to better see the older man. The talk quieted around us, and Tom raised his glass in the air.

  “Tonight, a celebration.” He smiled around the group from his place in the middle. “Tonight, a first. I am honoured, and delighted, and proud to be a part of this ride with you all. Here’s to your success, and to your futures. They’re sure to be bright. Congratulations.”

  “Fuck yeah!” Alex shouted. Everyone cheered and then clinked their glasses together, laughing happily. I watched them in confusion. Though it was dim in the room, seemingly I was the only one completely in the dark.

  “Um … congratulations for what?” I whispered to Grey. He turned to me; his blue eyes alight with happiness, the impact of them taking my breath away. He laughed loudly.

  “Our band was signed.” He explained. He clinked his glass against mine.

  “What? That’s awesome!” I exclaimed.

  “Yeah. That’s the idea,” he chuckled, “we’ll be recording soon.”

  “Wow. That’s great … amazing even! Let’s celebrate, shall we?”

  “We shall.” He promised. We smiled and drank the sharp, cold bubbly, watching each other. Now that the feeling of ceremony was over, we relaxed and ordered a round of more practical drinks, preparing to really celebrate. Grey lit a cigarette and passed it to me, lighting another one for himself. I drank my rye and Coke almost as soon as it came, trying quickly to maintain my buzz. Grey watched me take one last gulp, and smiled.

  “That’s impressive, but really not necessary.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because.” He grinned wickedly, looked around, and passed me a hand mirror from the other side of him. There were two smudgy lines reflected on the glass, and I could see my face looking down on them—could see the confusion, the comprehension, and then the anxiety that overtook my reflected expression. Cocaine. Grey was offering me cocaine.

  “I promised you a good time, didn’t I?”

  My stomach did a little flip. Cocaine had always been something I avoided. I didn’t really know why, but it was on the other side of the line I had drawn for myself. The stupid line. I’d never had an interest.

  “If you don’t want to, it’s no big deal. Just pass it on.” Grey spoke softly.

  “No. I want to.” I decided. Of course I would do it. It was no different than E or mush or weed, just another means to the desirable end. And I wanted that end. I wanted to be higher that I’d ever been before. I smiled at Grey.

  “I don’t know how.” I giggled, ashamed.

  “Just pinch your other nostril shut.” He leaned in close to me, explaining under his breath. He handed me a rolled up twenty-dollar bill. “Then suck it in with this, and chase the line.”

  “From the mirror?”

  He nodded. My heart beat convulsively in my chest, I was so nervous.

  “Don’t make fun of me.” I pleaded. Grey laughed.

  “I won’t. Look, no one’s even watching. Just don’t blow out, whatever you do. I promise, you’ll love it.”

  “I will?”

  He nodded again. That was it for me. Sold.

  I leaned over and did it the way Grey had said. I sucked in quickly and moved the bill down the line. Then I straightened up, sniffing, feeling an immediate burn within my sinuses. I sniffed and sniffed, rubbing at my septum, and pushed the mirror towards Cha
rlie. Grey laughed and watched me.

  “What do you think?” He wondered. I looked at him, and honestly felt no different. Just that my nose was on fire.

  “I … I don’t ….” I was about to say, “feel anything,” but was suddenly unable to speak. Because I did feel something. I felt amazing. I looked at Grey with wonder. My hands were shaking and I felt so good I wanted to cry. I can’t even describe the euphoria that flooded over me, the total and complete joy and contentment that became mine in that instant. I was physically numb but mentally clear, completely awake and alert. Totally confident. I looked at Grey and smiled, buzzing.

  “Wow … it’s just so, and I never realized it was like this. Is it always like this? Did you do some? Do you feel the same? Can we do some more?” I was whispering. He laughed, hard, like I had said something outrageously hilarious. I didn’t even bother worrying if he was laughing at me. How could he be? I was so awesome at that moment.

  The mirror was passed around a few more times, clandestinely. Grey showed me how to pull my forehead back afterwards and inhale sharply to get better absorption. I loved it, more than anything I’d ever tried. Grey had been right.

  After a few more lines, I was not content to sit anymore. I grabbed Charlie’s hand and we went to the washroom, then to the shooter bar, then back to the booth, then back to the washroom, gabbing the entire time. Neither of us could talk fast enough or run out of things to say. Everything we said was so profound, so right on. My entire body was humming; I could feel my heart beating rapidly.

  Then, I felt something else. In my mouth, there was a sudden, terrible, horrible taste. I made a face and put my hand over my lips, sliding back into the booth.

  “How you doing, Mackenzie?” Grey noticed my grimace as I sat next to him. “Does it taste like hairspray?” He asked.

  I nodded in disgust, my hand still over my mouth.

  “Try to swallow it. It’s just the coke. Back drip.” He explained.

  “Lovely.”