Life of the Party

by Christine Anderson

  “He’s no one.” I shrugged.

  “He was holding your hand.”

  “He was helping me out of the limo.” I corrected icily. We stared at each other a moment. Grey looked so good in his suit. He was freshly shaved, his dark, messy hair was carefully gelled, and his blue eyes were piercing as he looked me over. His familiar, sweet, masculine cologne wafted over me, and my knees threatened to buckle at the very scent. I shut my eyes and tried to stay strong.

  “You don’t seem happy to see me.” Grey realized.

  “I don’t know how to feel.” I admitted with a shake of my head. “Grey … what are you doing here?”

  “What do you mean? I came here to surprise you.” His handsome face turned hard. “Why, did I crash your date or something?”

  “No, of course not.” I bit my lip. It was all so confusing—his weeks of complete disregard, his sudden presence here. “You … you came here to surprise me? Why?”

  “Why?” He looked taken aback by the question. “Because … because I ….” He ran a hand through his hair, struggling for words. “Because I missed you.”

  “You missed me?”

  “Yeah, I missed you.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I looked away from him, away from the startling blue of his eyes. My voice was thick with threatening tears. “Well,” I scoffed, “you sure have some way of showing it.”

  Grey just looked at me, confused, contemplative. “What did I do?”

  I shook my head at him. Where guys really that dense? Could he really not know? I thought back over the weeks of torment and utter heartache I had suffered at his total lack of concern. My chest burned with indignation.

  “Grey, I haven’t heard from you in weeks.” I glared.

  He shook his head. “I know … I’m sorry, we’ve just been … busy.”

  “I know you’ve been busy.” I scoffed, my voice low and angry. “I heard her voice on the phone.”

  “What? Whose voice?” Grey’s face fell as he considered my words. “What are you talking about?”

  “Her voice. The girl. I called you one night, you were at a club or something, and I heard her, Grey. I heard her flirting with you, asking you to dance.”

  “That was you on the phone? Why didn’t you call me back?”

  “I’d already heard enough.” I could see my parents out of the corner of my eye, watching from the entrance of the hotel. Mom had her arms crossed in disapproval, staring at us. I ignored her, turning my gaze back to Grey. I looked up into his gorgeous face and waited for his answer, his explanation. Our whole relationship hung on it.

  “Mackenzie.” His face softened with concern and he grasped me by the arms. His touch on my skin was enough to make me tremble, and I could feel all the pain and all the anger start melting away from me. I grasped at it, trying to remember, trying to hold on to the hurt and the anguish like I knew I should, though every bone in my body was screaming to forgive him. Aching to forgive him.

  “Mackenzie,” Grey repeated. “That was nothing. I promise you. We met one night after the studio, and we danced a couple times, and that’s it. She’s nobody. Please, look at me.” He lifted my chin with his hand, forcing me to stare into his gorgeous blue eyes, deep and sincere. “Mackenzie, you have to believe me. I told you that I wouldn’t screw this up. I would never … I could never ….”

  “I want to believe you.” I admitted breathlessly, daring to hope. But I had no proof. Only his word. I stared up into his face—so honest, so innocent and concerned—and my eyes burned with fresh tears. I loved him enough that suddenly, none of it mattered. Grey’s expression told me everything I needed to know, restored to me all the hope that had been lost. Maybe someone stronger, someone better than me would’ve held out, would’ve demanded some proof, more of an apology, a better explanation. But I just didn’t care anymore. I wanted him too badly.

  Wordlessly I stepped into his arms. The moment I felt them wrap around me, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be. He kissed my hair as I nuzzled my cheek against his hard chest, letting his warmth and his scent envelop me. I could hear his heartbeat through the soft fabric of his suit, and I just shut my eyes and listened to the sound.

  “I’m sorry.” He spoke softly in my ear.

  “I missed you.” I whispered. “So much.”

  “Ahem.”

  Regretfully, I opened my eyes. My father was standing near us, his arms crossed before his chest with impatience.

  “The reception’s about to start, young lady.” His tone was thick with disapproval, but I just nodded at him. I didn’t want to leave the strength and comfort of Grey’s arms, for him or anybody.

  It was Grey that pulled away from me, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Hello, sir,” he stretched out his hand to my father. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Grey Lewis.”

  “Grey.” Gruffly Dad shook his hand. “We really need to get going.”

  Completely unaffected by my father’s obvious displeasure, Grey and I followed him towards the entrance of the hotel and through the grand, marble foyer. His hand held mine, my fingers laced through his. Every now and then I’d just look up at him, cautiously, and smile like I couldn’t believe he was there, like he was too good to be true. He’d smirk at me, just like I loved, and squeeze my hand as if he felt the same way. My pulse quickened in my chest; my heart warmed happily, melting away the icy cold grip of hurt and sadness that had held me in such sorrow.

  It was with a happy, hopeful smile on my face that we approached the rest of the wedding party. They were gathered in the hallway outside the reception room, and I was completely oblivious to the heated stares they threw my way. I was too thrilled by the very presence of the man beside me to pay them any heed.

  “So, that’s the great Marcy, is it? The one in the white?” Grey wondered quietly to me as we walked.

  “Yeah, how’d you guess?” I smiled. “Pretty gorgeous, huh?” I couldn’t keep the sour note of jealousy from leaking into my voice.

  To my utter amazement, Grey just shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess so. I mean, she’s definitely pretty, but she doesn’t do it for me.” He looked pointedly my way. “I don’t think she even compares to some.”

  I looked up at him, surprised. “You don’t mean that.”

  “The hell I don’t.” If it hadn’t been for his eyes, smiling and sincere as they studied me fondly, I never would have believed him. I found myself beaming at his words, moved by his sentiment, by far the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me.

  “Mackenzie.” My mother’s sharp voice interrupted my bliss. “Where’ve you been? We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Sorry.” I shrugged. “Mom, this is Grey.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Taylor.” Grey held out his hand. Mom stared at it a moment, as if it might bite her, and then hesitantly shook his hand.

  “Nice to meet you.” Her voice sounded like it was anything but. “You’ll be joining us then? Come, I’ll show you to the table.” Her voice was brisk and clipped. “Mackenzie, they’re waiting.”

  “Okay, Mom.” I rolled my eyes at her. I flashed Grey an apologetic smile, trying to compensate for the obvious lack of welcome shown by my parents. “I’ll see you in there.” I promised. Grey nodded and turned to follow my mother, who was already rampaging ahead.

  CHAPTER 37

  The reception began with the typical embarrassing entrance, as the MC announced, “and now for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Greg Donovan!” Marcy and Greg strolled into the lavish ballroom. Everyone stood from their chairs and clapped and cheered for the happy couple. We followed in pairs behind them, squeezing past the tables and guests to find our way to the front of the room, where the head table had been set up. We had to be introduced, but then finally, thankfully, were permitted to sit down.

  The hall was decorated much the same way as the church had been. Everything dripped with fragrant white flowers and glowed with soft white candlelight. The table linens and chair covers w
ere a brilliant white satin with silver bows wrapped around the backs. Delicate silver cases, in the shape of hearts, held favours for each place setting. The white, crisp napkins were folded into the shape of a flower, sitting prettily upon the clean white and silver china that adorned the round tables. Giant bouquets of white roses and peonies sat in tall, shapely vases as the centerpiece, surrounded by tea lights in crystal holders. It looked extravagant, and elegant, and expensive. I wondered how much my parents had spent. Obviously nothing was too good for their little girl.

  I couldn’t help but feel for Grey, trapped at a table with my parents who regarded him with nothing but obvious disdain. They weren’t even giving him a chance. I’d never thought of my parents as snobby, but it was clear from their actions that they felt Grey beneath them, like he wasn’t even worth the fifty-dollar a plate meal, like they resented his very presence. To earn my eternal gratefulness, Aunt Linda leaned over and spoke to him for a while from her table. I smiled at her while my parents frowned with disapproval.

  When finally my mom did condescend to talk to Grey, it was with cool indifference, as if she were just trying to prove a point or something. I was sitting close enough to hear and kept my head down over my plate, pushing around the creamed baby potatoes in pretence of eating while I blatantly eavesdropped on their conversation.

  “So, what do you do again?” Mom asked, following a polite compliment from Grey regarding the tenderness of the chicken.

  “I’m a chef at the Red Wheat. That’s where Mackenzie and I met.” He explained.

  “So you know a little about gourmet cooking, do you?”

  “Not exactly.” He laughed. “You obviously haven’t eaten there before. It’s a good restaurant, but it’s not gourmet.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be there too much longer though.” Grey admitted.

  “Oh?” This caught my dad’s interest. “What will you do?”

  “Well, I’m hoping that this record deal turns into something … more profitable.”

  “So, you’re going to be a rock star then.” Dad’s tone was obviously mocking. If Grey was going to get a chance, I had a feeling that was it. I frowned at my baby vegetables, biting my lip.

  “I hope so.” Grey admitted shamelessly. “We’re really pretty good. We’re working on our first album now, actually.”

  “Hmmm.” Mom pondered. “But isn’t it awfully hard to become a famous musician? What if that doesn’t work out?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t got that far yet.”

  “You know, Craig Donovan, that’s Greg’s brother ….” Mom motioned to him.

  “Wait—Greg’s brothers name is Craig?”

  “Yes.”

  Grey laughed in amusement. “Their names rhyme?” I smiled to myself at his observation, a giggle escaping my lips. I had thought the exact same thing.

  “He’s a solid young man, that Craig.” Dad spoke up in his defence. “He’s only twenty-years old, and already an up-and-comer at his firm.”

  “Really? What does he do?” Grey’s voice was polite, but completely uninterested.

  “He’s in finance.” My mom burst excitedly. “Very exciting. Everyone’s talking about him.”

  “Yes, he’s very successful, for someone so young. Maybe you could talk to him. He might have an opportunity for you, you know, maybe a more … reliable career.” Dad offered.

  I sat there, listening, remembering the day that Marcy first brought Greg home to meet my parents. They hadn’t acted anything like this; they had practically rolled out the red carpet and placed a crown on his head. But now they couldn’t treat Grey with even a little common courtesy. Why? Because he wasn’t rich like Greg? Because he didn’t have a six-figure trust fund waiting in the wings? That sucked. I dropped my fork—giving up the entire eating façade—and looked over at Grey, an open apology written on my face. He was just sitting there, calm and cool and gorgeously handsome like always. I was completely amazed at his total composure.

  “Yeah, thanks. I’ll remember that.” Grey answered my father.

  “Something to consider. Nothing wrong with respectable employment.”

  “No, sir.” He agreed.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I leaned over the table and caught Grey’s eye, then motioned with my head for him to follow me. He smirked and nodded, and I got up from my seat and headed out of the room. It was during the time between the end of the meal and the beginning of the formal program, when the guests were chatting and mingling and getting up to use the washroom. I knew we wouldn’t be missed.

  He met me just outside the hallway. Giggling, I took his hand and led him out of the banquet hall and through the lavish lobby, my heels clipping on the gleaming polished floors. My eyes lit up when I found just what I was looking for—a vacant, single occupancy washroom just off the foyer.

  Grey’s face was curious as I pulled him clandestinely into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind.

  “What are we doing?” He wondered suggestively. I set my purse down on the thick stone counter and rummaged through it.

  “This.” I held up my vial triumphantly.

  His blue eyes lit up in surprise and amusement. He chuckled in amazement. “And why are we doing this?”

  I smiled and scooped up the cocaine, rapidly inhaling it. I shut my eyes in relief and then handed the container to him with a shrug. “Because, fuck ‘em. That’s why.”

  “Fuck ‘em.” Grey agreed, sniffing some blow quickly and handing it back to me. I did some more, sucking it back as deeply as I could muster. The happy, buzzing trembles overwhelmed me once again, and I felt normal, like I could finally think straight. I let out a happy, shaky sigh as Grey took some more. It wasn’t long before we were both thoroughly, impossibly, giddily stoned.

  My heart was pounding, my teeth grinding, and I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. I met his eyes and we laughed together at nothing.

  “Now that I’m good and wrecked,” he wiped at his nose, “your parents should really approve of me.” Grey laughed.

  “Ugh, trust me. With them, it’s better to be stoned.” I checked the mirror and wiped the white residue from my nose, then fixed my hair with a trembling hand. “Do I look okay?”

  “Better than okay,” he smirked, and his blue eyes narrowed lustily as they looked me over. He placed his hands around my waist and with a careful, wicked grin, lifted me up so I was sitting on the bathroom counter. It may have been the blow or the time we’d spent apart, but the warmth of his hands shot heat straight through my veins. I couldn’t remember ever wanting Grey as badly as I did at that moment. I pressed my knees around him and grasped his tie, pulling him towards me, slowly, until our lips finally touched.

  Sparks flew then. I forgot everything … Marcy … my parents … the wedding … everything but the feel of his lips pressed to mine and the hard strength of his hands on my body. In moments we were breathless, dishevelled, and desperate for each other. I couldn’t stop; I didn’t want to, everything within me was screaming go, go, go ….

  A hard, sharp rap on the door jolted us both out of the moment. Only then did I remember where we were and what we were supposed to be doing. I couldn’t believe the sheer lust that had come over us, the depth of the desire that still burned in my veins.

  “Yes?” I tried to calm my frantic breathing.

  “Mackenzie? Are you in there?” Mom demanded impatiently. I met Grey’s eyes in shocked realization. He lifted his eyebrows in amusement.

  “Yes.” I answered.

  “What are you doing? The speeches are about to start.”

  Holy crap. Had she followed us or something?

  “Sorry … I’m not … feeling well,” I lied quickly. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I just … I need a sec.”

  “Okay. Hurry up. They’re waiting.” Irritation was evident in her voice. I waited until I could hear her heels clipping briskl
y away from the door.

  “Shit, Grey, what do we do?” I barely stifled a giggle. “We’re so busted.”

  “I know. Here, you go first.” He grinned, pulling the straps of my dress back in place. “I’ll wait until you’ve gone in, and then I’ll come later.”

  “Okay.” I agreed to his hasty plan, smoothed my dress and took a breath to calm my frenzied pulse. I wondered if my cheeks were flushing as hotly as they felt. “Do I look high?”

  He looked me over and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Do I?”

  Grey was gorgeous as usual. His eyes were a little glassy, but not noticeably so. I straightened his tie, my touch lingering on his chest. “No.” I breathed.

  “Go.” He smirked, removing my hand. “Before you get in trouble.”

  “See you in there.” I kissed him quickly, grabbed my purse and opened the door. He pulled it shut behind me so no one would see him. I hurried through the lobby and down the hallway into the reception room. I couldn’t keep the smile from my face; I had to suppress the urge to giggle the entire time.

  Marcy shot me a suspicious glare as I took my seat back at the head table. I ignored her and took a drink of wine to try and cool my blood. Grey came back in after awhile, giving no excuse for his absence as he sat back down at my parents’ table. They pointedly ignored him. He winked at me, and I grinned right back.

  The MC began the program then. There were speeches, and then more speeches, and then a slideshow. I sat through the entire ordeal, restless and fidgety and high, itching for the night to be over. After the thousandth picture of Greg and Marcy cuddling to the tune of I Honestly Love You by Olivia Newton John, the program was finally concluded, but not the reception. Just when I thought that Grey and I were free, that it was all over at last, the MC announced the start of yet another tradition.

  It was time for the first dance. Marcy and Greg took their places on the dance floor; somehow she still managed to look as fresh as a daisy after the tiresome, weary day. She glowed with happiness. The newlyweds whirled around the parquet boards as a three-piece orchestra accompanied them with soft, gentle music. After a few moments of this, it was time for the bridal party to join in. This meant I had to dance with Craig.