Life of the Party

by Christine Anderson

  “That’s just too damn bad.” Grey spoke. “Because you mean nothing to me.” He made sure I was looking, waited until, wincing; I looked into his cold, hostile blue eyes. “You got that? Nothing.” He repeated, his voice low, malicious. “I don’t love you, I don’t like you. I don’t even care about you. You’re just a piece of ass; I tried to tell you that. And I don’t need this shit.”

  A sob escaped my throat. I didn’t mean to let it happen, but the hatred in his voice wounded me deeply, piercing through the chemically induced euphoria to strike me directly in the heart. I clutched my chest and tried to stifle the swift pain of total rejection that his loathing caused. The unexpected sting that raced from my mind to my psyche, harsh and cutting, wreaking havoc on my self-esteem as my stomach flipped with panic.

  Grey just looked at me now, like he was disgusted. Like I was disgusting to him. He shut his eyes and shook his head again, slowly. The chuckle that escaped his perfect lips was condescending; his voice was edged with annoyance.

  “Damn teenagers.” He muttered. Without another glance in my direction, he turned and stalked towards the door. It slammed loudly as he left the room and abandoned me in humiliated misery. Despite the nasty, hurtful things he had said I still wanted to call to Grey, to beg him not to go. Because I still loved him, even after all of that. I loved him, and always would, even if he never felt the same way about me. My tears overflowed and sobs I could not contain shook my body. Slowly I sat up, my vision blurred, my throat aching as I pulled my dress back in place and smoothed the fabric with the palm of my hand. My heart felt like it was bleeding, pouring sadness throughout my entire being as the pain ebbed through my veins.

  CHAPTER 18

  I was crushed. There was no other way to describe it. I cried myself hoarse in that mean, lonely little room, and then, since I had no other choice, forced myself to walk back through the VIP section. Rigid with humiliation and convinced that everyone was staring at my puffy red eyes and mascara streaked face, I nearly ran from the club, stumbling my way home in utter disgrace and rejection. I climbed into my bed without even washing my face or changing my clothes. The whole nights events were fresh in my mind. The moment I shut my eyes I saw Grey’s beautiful face, his blue eyes hard and his lips sneering at me cruelly. I curled up on my side, tight in the blankets, and cried myself to sleep.

  The next morning, when I awoke and was immediately bombarded again by the memory—the horrific, tragic ending to my night—the resulting wave of sadness actually made me … angry. The way most people get when they’ve been rejected by someone—horribly, brutally rejected by someone. Offended, infuriated. Hurt and resentful. All day long I hid out in my room, blaming my absence from hanging with the family on the clever guise of studying. I didn’t open a book, mostly laid on my bed, stared at my roof, listened to angry music and wished for a cigarette. Furious. Every time I pictured Grey’s face, I hated him a little bit more.

  At least, I tried to convince myself I did.

  There was no way I could show my face at Charlie’s ever again, and though she called my cell phone multiple times, I didn’t answer. Even though I knew she’d be understanding and sympathetic and possibly even make me feel better, I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to talk about it; I didn’t want to admit what had happened to anyone. I just wanted to lie on my bed and focus on my anger, trying to hate Grey enough to totally forget about him, trying to persuade myself that I was much better off.

  There was only one week of official classes left at school before final exams. Everyone at school the next day was abuzz with last days preparations, all our classes were devoted to diploma exam studying strategies. I sat silently in my desk, hating everyone around me and wishing that I didn’t have to be at stupid school. But what else would I be doing? I didn’t really have any friends anymore that I was aware of.

  Ben, Toby and Jacob were officially AWOL, but I guess I couldn’t blame them. In reality, I had ditched them—I always knew where to find the guys but I just hadn’t bothered. Too busy with my other, more exciting plans.

  Riley was in a few of my classes, and though I had planned to confront him about the whole moving away forever thing, I was just too drained. We acknowledged each other once, in third period when he had to walk down my aisle to return to his seat. He met my eyes and we nodded at each other. I wondered when, no—if, he was planning to tell me about the move. He and the Christian were now inseparable; I saw them everywhere together, not just at lunchtime meetings. She had taken my place in the passenger seat of Riley’s car.

  It was pretty hard not to wallow in self-pity. In the matter of a few short weeks I had managed to lose all my friends and get a broken heart in the process.

  And I had to work right after school. There would be no more avoiding Charlie and trying to convince myself that the whole horrible Saturday night fiasco hadn’t taken place. At least Grey wouldn’t be working. That was something I definitely couldn’t handle. I walked the few blocks from school to the Red Wheat, my arms crossed, dragging my feet.

  Charlie was expecting me as I entered the quiet restaurant. There was one table of two up in the first section, but other than that the seats were empty. It was only four-thirty, still too early for supper rush.

  “Hey, babe. How you doing?” Charlie greeted me. She looked me over and with that one glance seemed to understand that something was wrong. A sympathetic smile crossed her face. Her blonde hair had been straightened and shone down to her shoulders; her frilly white dress looked lovely. I shrugged. I knew I looked terrible; I hadn’t the energy or the motivation to do anything with myself that morning. My dark curls hung limply down my back and I wore virtually no make-up.

  “Come with me.” She took me by the shoulders and gently ushered me towards the washroom. I allowed her to, I didn’t care. The rubber stopper held the bathroom door so we could still see out front. We stood before the mirror; Charlie threw my hair up and deftly twisted it into some kind of knot. A little mascara from her purse and some deep red lipstick made a huge difference in my appearance.

  “Thanks Charlie. What would I do without you?” I wondered, more to myself than to her. She was truly my only friend at the moment. I felt guilty for ignoring her calls the previous day.

  “So, are you going to tell me what happened Saturday?”

  “Like you don’t know.”

  “I don’t. Grey wouldn’t talk about it. All I know is that you two went into that room, and then a while later Grey comes out by himself, looking totally stressed. Then you come out like, almost an hour later, obviously bawling. You run by without even telling me you’re leaving and then Grey’s standing there, watching you, all tense with his fists clenched. Did you guys have a fight or what?”

  “No, not a fight.” My eyes narrowed at the memory. “I told him I loved him; I know it was stupid, but it was the truth. And then … well,” I scoffed sardonically, “let’s just say he didn’t share the sentiment.”

  “You told him you loved him?”

  “Yeah.” I grimaced. “Dumb, right?”

  “No.” Charlie decided. She shook her head. “No, not dumb. That took guts. You’re brave, Mackenzie. I’ve felt that way about Zack for months and I still can’t tell him.”

  “Why not?” I wondered.

  “I don’t know. Rejection sucks.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” I sighed. Charlie fixed my cardigan and stood back to survey my outfit. It met her approval—though not mine—it was another one of my mom’s purchases, a short khaki skirt and white top. I wore plain white sneakers as well.

  “Mackenzie,” she looked mystified. A frown crossed her lips. “I just don’t get it. The way Grey looks at you ….” She trailed off in thought.

  “Whatever ….” I shook my head regretfully. “It’s nothing. It’s over. Just … forget about it.”

  “You’re right.” She hugged my shoulders. “If he’s too stupid to see it, you’re much better off.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded
. I’d told myself that same thing hundreds of times in the last twenty-four hours. So why couldn’t I believe it?

  The fact I couldn’t only made me madder.

  “Okay, well … you look great.” She decided. “Come on. Let’s just get through tonight and then we’ll worry about the rest later. And here … don’t take too much, just enough to help.” She handed me the little silver vial she kept in her purse and looked cautiously out the door. “Coast is clear. Go ahead.”

  Eagerly I unscrewed the lid and scooped up the white powder, inhaling deeply until I could feel the sweet burn hit my sinuses. I sniffed loudly and did another. It wasn’t long until the racking pain and anger had faded, but still it did not cease. I felt better though, like I could handle it now. I felt confident. In control. Like maybe I didn’t need Grey, like maybe I didn’t even care.

  But as I turned the corner around the waitress station, I spotted him. Grey. He was there, working; I could see his handsome face behind the line. Panicked, I gasped, hiding behind the wall so he couldn’t see me.

  “Charlie!” I whisper-hissed at my friend. “What the hell is he doing here!?”

  She looked at me curiously. “What do you mean?”

  “Grey! What is he doing here? He’s not supposed to be working today.”

  “Oh … well I guess when Riley gave his two-weeks notice, Mark told him not to worry about coming in at all. He gave Riley the time to study or something, so Grey’s covering all his shifts now.”

  “What? Oh shit, that’s right. Grey’s covering for Riley now.” I groaned. “I totally forgot.”

  “I know it sucks, Mac. Just ignore him. Just do your job and ignore him, okay?” Charlie looked towards the entrance at an incoming couple. “You can start now. Go seat that table.” She handed me two menus and gave me a reassuring pat. “We’ll get through this Mac. Just ignore him.”

  This turned out to be easier than I expected. By the time I returned from seating that table, another four had taken their place at the entry. Charlie and I were slammed within minutes, in half an hour every seat was full and a line up had begun at the door. This was unexpected for a Monday night, and we were nearly run off our feet. Luckily, I was kept busy enough that I couldn’t worry about Grey except when I needed an order.

  We didn’t say one word to each other, he kept his head down most of the time anyway—the kitchen staff were just as hard pressed to keep up with the rush as we were. Dishes piled up in the pit, the salad dressings were out, and we ran out of soup before seven o’clock. Orders kept coming in; there were tables to wipe, coffees to refill, plates to clear. We could barely hear ourselves over the general restaurant din and the clamour of the busy kitchen.

  This was when I first met Ralph. I was in the waitress station, filling up Pepsi’s and getting a piece of pie out of the fridge at the same time. Multitasking was a necessity. The door from the kitchen opened just as I was shutting the fridge with my foot, and a tall, heavy, middle-aged man emerged. He was balding, with thin red hair. His face held deep wrinkles, but his thick lips revealed perfect white teeth. He wore a collared shirt and dress pants and smelled like expensive aftershave.

  I looked up at him curiously. “Hello.”

  “Hello.” He greeted politely, but his eyes worked me over, from the top of my head down to the toes of my shoes, then up again. His eyebrows rose. I wondered what that meant, but was too busy to really care. I squeezed some whipped cream onto the pie and placed a fork on its dish.

  “You must be Mackenzie.” He was staring at me.

  “Yes.” I was trying to be polite, but had many things on my mind. I couldn’t remember if I had gotten table thirteen ketchup or not. I grabbed a bottle anyway, just in case.

  “Ralph.” He introduced, holding out his hand. I looked up at him in surprise, barely remembering in time that this man was my boss.

  “Oh, hi.” I floundered. I set down the ketchup so I could shake his hand. “I’m sorry; we’ve just been really busy. I didn’t realize ….”

  “Oh, no. No trouble. Just thought I’d introduce myself.” He shook his head in approval and smiled. “That Mark, he sure can pick ‘em.”

  “Uh … thanks ….” I smiled again impatiently, not really paying attention. I had to get going. I grabbed the ketchup bottle again.

  “We’ll talk later. I’ll be here doing some interviews to replace Riley. Let me know if you need any help.” Ralph offered. I nodded in thanks and then whizzed by him, my mind already focused on the path I would take through the restaurant to make the most effective use of my time. A rule in waitressing was never to walk anywhere with empty hands. There was always something to grab and take or clean and I busied myself with exactly that. By the time I returned to the waitress area, Ralph was gone.

  The rush didn’t last all night, but it remained steady. We spent the rest of the evening just trying to get caught up. Charlie and I each took a turn in the bathroom with her little silver vial as well, a little pick me up to help us keep going.

  It was at about nine o’clock, an hour from close, when a table of ten came in without a reservation. Charlie and I grumbled as we pushed tables together for them. There was nothing worse than a big table so close to closing after such a busy night. I made Charlie break the news to the kitchen. I wasn’t in the mood to get sworn at.

  To make matters worse, I had to wait on the table, and all of them were guys from my school. The majority of them were from my grade. There was nothing more awkward than waiting on people I barely knew but who still would recognize me. I handed them menus and we exchanged some polite hellos.

  They were cowboys. All of them. I knew without even looking that our parking lot would be full of their diesel trucks, large and loud with some kind of ATV strapped in the box and mud splattered along the sides. Typical boys raised on a farm, heading to local colleges that offered courses in agriculture and livestock breeding. The talk around the table consisted of various ranch-hand work stories and rodeo cabarets. I rolled my eyes and kept my mouth shut, refilling their Pepsi’s with regularity and serving them all the same large, greasy plates of hamburgers and French fries.

  When they were finally done, I placed the black check holder in the middle of their table.

  “Thanks guys.” I said generically. One of the boys, his name was Brad, looked up at me and smiled.

  “Uh, we didn’t order that.” He quipped, pointing at the check. I could tell he thought he was clever.

  “Oh, well, it comes free with every meal.” I smiled sweetly at him. His friends around the table cracked up at my little joke. Brad smiled in surprise and chuckled—he was still grinning at me as I left the table, trouncing over to shut the open sign off. The one and only plus to waiting on a big group was the chance of a big tip, but I wasn’t going to get my hopes up. These were high school boys, after all.

  Brad personally brought me the check holder when they were ready to go. It was stuffed with bills, but I figured it was rude to count the money right there in front of him. I shoved the folder into the front pocket of my apron.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Brad smiled. He looked over me, and his face was soft … admiring, almost. “So, tell me Mackenzie, why don’t we hang out more?” He broached.

  I laughed at him. “… Are you serious?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh ….” I cleared my throat, trying to be polite. “Uh … I guess it’s just because we … hang in different crowds.” I shrugged.

  “Well, I think we should rectify the situation. Don’t you?” He asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t really see how. Unless maybe … you start growing weed in your fields or something.” I smiled at my ridiculous suggestion.

  Brad leaned a hand against the wall, grinning widely at me. “See. Right there. You have the most adorable smile. Did you know that?”

  I felt my cheeks warm. “Oh, you’re just saying that.”

  “I am?” He chuckled. “Why?”

&n
bsp; “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “Maybe you’re still in awe of my amazing service or something.”

  “Trust me, Mackenzie,” Brad leaned towards me then, his voice dropping seriously. “The service wasn’t that good.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I laughed and laughed, looking up at him in amazement, startled that he had an actually personality. It was a pleasant surprise. He laughed with me, and as he did his odd, amber coloured eyes twinkled handsomely. His wide smile was becoming in his face.

  “Uh, thanks … I guess ….” I giggled.

  “There it is again. That smile.” Brad sighed. He glanced back at his friends waiting impatiently by the front door. “I should go. But you and me, we’ll hang out soon, okay?”

  “Um ….” I bit my lip, not sure what to say.

  “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

  “… Okay. Yes.” I nodded, and found myself smiling at him.

  His answering grin flashed charmingly across his face, and I watched him go, amazed. What was happening to me? Was I really desperate enough for a friend that I’d consider fraternizing with a cowboy? I shook my head as I rang up the bill, but I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. Maybe I was going crazy or something, but it seemed like there was more to Brad than just wrangler jeans and roper boots. I watched the lights of his truck as he pulled out of the parking lot and felt an odd, inexplicable surge of hope.

  Charlie met me in the waitress area afterwards, her tray full of dirty dishes, and handed me a crisp, green twenty-dollar bill.

  “Your tip.” She smiled in disbelief. “Man, what did you do for those guys, a lap dance or something?”

  “Something like that.” I joked in amazement. But I honestly had no idea. Maybe my service hadn’t been as bad as Brad said it was … maybe my sudden wit had won him over … or maybe, he just liked me. I took the bill and stuffed it into my tip cup, which was almost overflowing from the busy evening. I stared at the heap of change, trying to approximate its worth. There must have been at least fifty-dollars in it before the twenty-dollar tip, which was exciting—a nice, unexpected bonus.