Life of the Party

by Christine Anderson

“Want some more?”

  “Yes.”

  Of course I did. I didn’t want this feeling to ever end. Grey and I sat, almost completely by ourselves now as the others dispersed, some to go dance, some to get drinks. I leaned comfortably against him as we shared another mirror or two. His arm rested loosely around my waist, his hand warm. He smelt so good.

  “Do we have to get you back anytime … curfew or anything?” He asked, his voice a deep rumble in my ear. I lit my eightieth some odd smoke and blew it out in a laugh.

  “Hardly. My mom works nights, my dad’s away on business. They’ll never notice that I’m gone.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll just keep you, then.”

  “Sounds good to me.” I agreed.

  I was content to sit now, with Grey beside me, but nothing could stop the uncontrollable chatter that poured from my lips. From our lips. Thankfully, Grey had done his share of cocaine too, and we talked, and talked, our words not coming fast enough for the thoughts that drove them.

  We talked about work and the pain in the ass customers. About Charlie and how she was surprisingly likeable. I told him about my sister and her dick fiancé—how much my parents sucked. He let me blather on and on and listened intently the entire time. After expounding on Marcy’s upcoming wedding, even describing the prissy dresses to him in finite detail, I figured it was time for me to stop talking.

  “So, anyway … um, tell me about your band being signed. How did it happen? What does it mean?” I leaned forward and took a drink; my mouth was bitterly dry.

  “Well,” he chuckled at my ignorance, “basically, we’ve a contract with a record company. They put out the CD and set up a tour and do the marketing and everything. We just sit back, and make music.” He grinned widely. “Which is really the best part.”

  “How do you do it? I mean, how do you write the songs?”

  “Mostly me and Alex write them. The melodies just come to me. Sometimes, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night, and I just have it, and have to get it down. Alex helps a ton, he can think of wicked parts for guitars and layering and stuff.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “I write the lyrics too. Sometimes it’s hard, but most the time they just write themselves, like certain melodies were made for certain words, certain moods.”

  “Wait.” I put my drink down and stared at Grey, baffled. “So, not only do you write the music and play the music and sing the songs, you write the lyrics too? How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged humbly. “It’s just, easy for me. A lot of the time I can say things in songs that I can’t say otherwise. Like an outlet, I guess.”

  “Wow. How long have you been playing?”

  “Music had always been it for me, even when I was little. I started playing when I was … um … seven I think. It’s only been guitar for me, ever, and if you think I’m crazy, Zack can play every instrument we have on stage and he’s really, really good. A natural. I think he can even play the saxophone and shit.”

  “You guys are impressive. I can’t even carry a tune and here you all are, writing your own music, singing, making your own lyrics ….” A sudden idea occurred to me. I smiled in amusement.

  “If you’re so good, write me a song right now.” I suggested. “Make me some lyrics.”

  “Right now?” Grey laughed. “No, no. I need music and a situation.”

  “Okay … I can do that. Write it to the tune of … Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, and make it about ….” I looked down at my cigarette. “Smoking.”

  “A song about smoking. To the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star?” He looked at me incredulously, but humoured me, and began humming to himself. He broke into a smile. “How does that shit even go?”

  I laughed, thoroughly enjoying myself. Grey worked away for a moment, frowning in concentration as I watched him and smoked. He mumbled words aloud as he tried to place them into the song.

  “Okay, okay, I think I’ve got it.” He chuckled and cleared his throat. “Here goes. Smoking, smoking cigarette, how much better can it get? First I suck, then I blow, it gives me a healthy glow. Smoking, smoking cigarette, how much better can it get?”

  I burst out laughing, clapping my hands for his impromptu performance. Grey laughed with me, his face reddening slightly.

  “What’d you think?” He asked.

  “I think … that was … the dirtiest song … I’ve ever heard ….” I admitted between fits of laughter. Grey went over the words again in his head, and a smile broke over his face as he realized the implication.

  “I didn’t have much time.” He explained. “I did the best with what I had.”

  “No, you did great. You did great. I just don’t think I’ll ever look at a cigarette the same way.”

  “Me either.” He grinned.

  “No.” I shook my head seriously, clearing the laughter from my throat. “I mean it. I think that you are very talented. Soon, you’ll be so famous that you won’t remember the rest of us.”

  “I doubt that.” Grey chuckled. “Some of you are pretty unforgettable.” He looked at me when he said that, his blue eyes still twinkling with mirth, his lips curved handsomely. I gave him a glorious smile.

  “Oh yeah?” My voice was a whisper. He nodded, and I felt his hand on my hip, hard and firm as he slowly pulled me closer towards him. My poor heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings. With his other hand, dark and tan and warm, Grey tilted my chin up, pulling my face towards his until the inevitable moment—slow in coming—that our lips finally touched.

  The kiss jolted me. The parts of me previously coke-numb were suddenly on fire. His lips pressed against mine, softly at first, then with growing intensity. He tasted amazing. I twisted in his arms so I was facing him, my hands lifted to the back of his neck, my fingers twirled in his hair. We kissed. We kissed as we had talked—compulsively, thoroughly, irrepressibly. I pressed myself against him, delighting in the warmth of his hands on my back, my waist … stroking my arms, my neck … tangling in my hair ….

  His kiss was better than coke.

  “Tell me, Mackenzie,” he breathed, a few heavy moments later. I didn’t answer, but opened my eyes to acknowledge him. His gaze fell to my lips.

  “Who was it that made you sad earlier?” He kissed me. I frowned. I couldn’t remember … it didn’t matter.

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter … I’m not sad anymore.” I whispered. I could feel Grey’s lips smile against mine. And then we were kissing again.

  CHAPTER 12

  The light was blinding. I groaned, and the noise made my head throb. My mouth was totally dry, my throat and sinuses raw … like someone had rubbed them with sandpaper. I rolled into a ball and put a hand to my feverish brow. I couldn’t swallow.

  “Here.” An angel from heaven spoke, placing a cool glass of water in my hand. She chuckled. “Drink this.”

  I nodded weakly and tried to sit up, my eyes shut, my head throbbing anew at the change in position. I forced my shaky hand to bring the cup to my lips. The water was precious, life giving, cold and soothing. My throat and mouth worked better.

  Next I tried to open my eyes. One slit at a time, allowing the harsh light to filter in slowly so they could adjust. I coughed, and my lungs felt burnt. Had I come down with some rare tropical disease in the night or something?

  I panicked slightly, once my eyes were open. I was on the floor, somewhere, in a living room by the looks of things. A blanket covered me. I spotted Alex slumped over in a chair, but I didn’t recognize anything else around me. Then I remembered the voice, the sweet angel from heaven.

  “Charlie?” I croaked. The sound made me wince.

  “How you doing hon?”

  “Ugh. Not good. Where are we?”

  “You’re at my house, silly. Don’t you remember?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I can’t think straight.” I lay back down. My hand hit something hard, and then I realized someone was beside me. Quickly—much too q
uickly for my poor head, I sat up and surveyed the man laying there.

  It was Grey, of course it was Grey. I don’t know who else I would’ve expected. His face was slack, relaxed, but beautiful in peaceful sleep. His shirt was off, allowing me a good, long glimpse of his dark chiselled chest and glorious six-pack. Multiple black tattoos covered his naked shoulders and muscled arms. A sudden thought occurred to me, and I looked down at myself beneath the blanket. I didn’t know if it was relief or disappointment I felt when I realized I was fully dressed.

  I’d only blacked out once that I could remember, at the party with Riley when I took all those Quaaludes. I hoped my mind would bring back all the moments I seemed to have forgotten of the previous night. It was way too good not to remember. Especially since I was waking up next to Grey now.

  “What time is it?” I asked Charlie, who was bustling around her tiny kitchen. I could hear coffee brewing.

  “Um … 8:24.” She answered.

  “Oh shit. I’m going to be late for school.” I grimaced.

  “So ditch. What are they going to do? You graduate in less than a month anyway.”

  “I know, and I totally would. I have this test though … it’s kind of important.”

  “What time is it at?”

  “Um, nine, I think. First period. Whatever time that is.” I groaned again, and made the attempt to get up. It didn’t go so well. I ended up back on the floor, my head in my hands. What was the point, anyway? After a few healing moments I moved again, this time placing my head on Grey’s chest and resting my arm lightly on his torso. Mmm …. I felt better already.

  “What about your parents, Mac? Didn’t you say you’d call them in the morning?”

  “Hmmm … did I? That doesn’t sound like me.”

  “Yes, you did. Come on. You don’t want them to be worried.” Charlie came over and grasped my hand. “Let me help you up.”

  I was too weak to even protest. One moment I was totally content lying with Grey, the next I was pulled into a world of agony, bleary eyed, holding onto the counter to keep from falling over. I swayed unsteadily.

  “Have some coffee.” Charlie plunked a mug down in front of me.

  “How are you so chipper this morning?”

  “Practice. And I also did like, twenty less lines than you.”

  “Oh.” That would explain it. “Can I borrow your phone?”

  “Sure.” Charlie handed me her cordless. I looked at her for the first time that morning. She seemed content and happy. Already done up for the day, of course she looked gorgeous. I surveyed her as my parents’ phone rang in my ear.

  “So, how’d it go?” I whispered at her. Just then, a door opening distracted me, and I saw Zack coming out of Charlie’s room. That answered my question. I giggled with her, and then quieted as he approached.

  “Hello? Taylor Residence.” My mom finally answered the phone. I stepped away from the counter for some privacy.

  “Hey, mom?”

  “Mackenzie, is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Hey, I just wanted to make sure that you remembered.”

  “Remembered what? You are in big trouble, young lady. Wh—”

  “Ugh, see! I knew you’d forget.”

  “What?”

  “I told you, the other day. That I’d be staying at my friend Charlie’s house Wednesday night.”

  “Charlie? Is this some boy?”

  “No, mom. My friend, Charlie, from work. Charlene?”

  “Oh. Well, I don’t remember this conversation.”

  “You never do. That’s why I’m calling. I didn’t want you to come home this morning and freak out ‘cause I’m not there.”

  “Well, it’s a little late for that. We talked about this, did we?”

  “Yes, mom. You said it was fine.”

  “Huh. Well … I don’t know ….”

  “Gotta go mom. I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay … hey, shouldn’t you be at school—”

  I hung up the phone abruptly. All this talking was really making my head throb. I took a swig of coffee and it burnt all the way down. “Do I look how I feel?” I asked Charlie. She and Zack were sitting on barstools together at the counter.

  Charlie grinned. “Easily fixed.” I groaned at the sound of their laughter, heading to the bathroom to investigate myself. It really wasn’t that bad. I fixed my eye make-up where it was smudged and threw my knotted hair into a makeshift ponytail-twist thing. My lips were chapped and swollen. They smiled at me in the mirror.

  I changed out of the rumpled jeans and halter-top combination that Charlie had leant me and back into my clothes from the night before. They smelt like the fryer from work. I borrowed some of Charlie’s deodorant, rubbed some toothpaste over my gums, and sprayed some mystery perfume all over myself. Nothing like a “fragrance shower” first thing in the morning.

  When I came out of the bathroom, Alex was awake. He looked a little worse for wear, but was smiley and jovial as ever. He and Zack were being painfully noisy, recapping the best moments of the night. I snuck past them and headed back to Grey, not quite willing to leave him and this unreal dream, the one that somehow ended with me waking up next to him. He was somewhat conscious by the time I got there. I hadn’t had a chance to really brush my teeth—I hoped I didn’t have horrid morning breath or anything, but I felt like I did.

  “Hey.” I kept my voice low. “I’ve gotta go, to school.”

  “Alright.” Grey growled, but he didn’t open his eyes. I giggled slightly, totally able to sympathize with him and how he felt.

  “There’s water here.” I handed him the cup.

  “Tell those assholes to keep it down.”

  “Hey, assholes, keep it down!” I yelled at them, right in Grey’s ear, realizing my mistake too late. I looked down repentantly. He was glaring at me with one eye open.

  “Sorry. Uh … I’ll just be going now.” I smiled. Alex and Zack laughed at me.

  “I bet he appreciated that.” They joked.

  I put a finger to my lips, “shhhh,” but I was trying not to laugh. “Bye.” I bent down, hesitantly, and kissed Grey’s lips. To my joy and relief, he moved his hand to cup the back of my head and kissed me for longer.

  “You work tonight?” He wondered.

  “Yeah.” I groaned. “I’m going to die. You?”

  “Nope.” He chuckled slightly, and winced. “I get to sleep all day.

  “That is not fair.” I groaned again.

  “But it was worth it, right?”

  “So worth it.” I smiled. We kissed again, and then regretfully, I forced myself away from him. I didn’t care about school, but I definitely didn’t want to repeat the twelfth grade either. “Bye.”

  “See ya.”

  I waved to the group congregated around the counter. “‘Kay, I’m off.” I announced.

  “Where are you going?” Zack wondered

  “I’ve got to walk to school.”

  “School? Geeze, how old are you anyway? Fifteen?”

  “Something like that. I’ll see you guys later.” I opened the door to the painfully bright sunshine, took a healing breath, and stumble-limped down the old grey stairs. It wasn’t far to my school, but it was far enough when every step was utter agony. I sighed and began my trek, lighting a smoke although my poor lungs wheezed in protest. I heard a car coming down the street, rustily, it sounded like. When it began to slow by the time it reached me, I turned to investigate. It was purple, old … beat up.

  It was Riley.

  “Mackenzie?”

  CHAPTER 13

  The passenger door opened to me, beckoning, and Riley leaned across the seat. He looked puzzled.

  “Mackenzie? What are you doing here?”

  “I stayed at Charlie’s house last night.” I pointed behind me.

  “Oh. Well, get in, I’ll give you a ride. Come on, we’re late.”

  I hesitated a moment, but took him up on the offer. I was too achy and sore to protest, all of
our differences aside. I threw my smoke down on the street and stiffly climbed into the car.

  We stared at each other a moment once I was in. He was the same old Riley that I’d known forever, but to me, he seemed different already. Not in looks or appearance or anything … just in him. Like he was … peaceful, or something. He smiled hopefully at me, but the wide space of seat between us seemed to represent the status of our relationship. My expression was blank as I stared back at him. Riley sighed.

  “You smell like a brewery.” He wrinkled his nose. “And something else … what, Vanilla Fields? Late night last night?”

  “You could say that.” Totally unconsciously I rubbed my nose, trying to quell the dull ache that still resided within. It felt like my sinuses were completely dry and each breath burnt them afresh. I sniffed a few times to try and get some moisture up there. It helped that I was out of the cool, morning fresh air.

  I felt Riley’s eyes on me then, hard. I turned to meet his gaze, sniffing and rubbing my nose again.

  “What?”

  “Were you doing coke last night?” His voice was low with accusation, almost threatening. The dark look in his eyes told me that he knew the truth, that somehow he’d figured it out from the mere minutes we had spent together. As odd as it was, the thought gave me hope. If he still knew me that well, there had to something left here, something of our old relationship that we could salvage.

  “I gave it a try, yeah.” I shrugged it off. “No big deal.”

  “No big deal.” Riley laughed incredulously. He put the car in drive and pulled out into the street. “This coming from the girl who refuses to be in the same room as a rail. Do you remember how pissed you used to get at me when I did coke? Do you?”

  “Yes.” I said quietly.

  “So? What changed? No, no, no ….” Riley ginned sardonically. “Let me guess. You were with Grey, weren’t you? And he was doing it. So you just had to try it, right?”

  His perfect insight made me angry. I stuck out my chin stubbornly.

  “I was with Grey, yes. But he doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Yeah, right.” He scoffed. “So what, did you get coked up and then go at it all night long? Was it everything you ever dreamed it would be?” His voice was icy.