Life of the Party

by Christine Anderson

  CHAPTER 49

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Strong hands wrapped around my waist. I smiled at Grey in the mirror, looking over my shoulder, his blue eyes watching me as his lips pressed against my neck.

  I groaned and leaned back against him. “I have to go to work.” I sighed. “Not all of us can be rock stars, you know.”

  “Yeah.” He chuckled. “Some rock star. I doubt there’s ever been a rock star in history as broke-ass as I am right now.”

  “Maybe not.” I shrugged encouragingly. “But you won’t be for long.”

  “Yeah.” Grey mumbled, bending to kiss me again. I felt his pain. I was seriously strapped for cash. All our money had gone to the weekend … the perfect, blissfully high weekend that had gone by all too fast and managed to eat up the rest of my tip money and whatever savings Grey had left in the bank. I didn’t want to go to work, not at all, but I had to make some tips or we’d be SOL for the evening’s habits. Grey insisted that we slow down the heroin use now, since that was basically all we’d done for the last forty-eight odd hours. I was settling for cocaine, but it was way more expensive than heroin, and would probably take up whatever tips I made that night. I bit my lip in thought. I really needed more money. My rent was coming up soon as well, but I didn’t want to think about that.

  “You look really pretty.” He pushed my dark hair back from my face and smirked at me in the mirror. “Isn’t this skirt a little … short, though?”

  Teasingly, I rolled my eyes. Grey hadn’t been around to witness the gradual shrinking of my wardrobe—my necklines getting lower, my skirts shorter, my heels higher. Presently, I wore a tiny lace miniskirt and a tight white sweater with a plunging v-neck. I chose it so the long sleeves would hide the sickly yellow bruise that stained my arm.

  “You’ll see when I get home tonight, the difference this look makes tip wise.”

  “I bet.” He frowned slightly. “But I don’t know if I should let you out of the house like this. I don’t like the thought of other guys looking at you.”

  I smiled and turned around in his arms, so I was looking up into his gorgeous face. I shrugged. “So what if they look. You’re the only one that gets to touch.” I promised. This brought the smile back to his eyes. He smirked again and then pulled me up to him, crushing me against his lips.

  It was in this sweet embrace that Charlie found us. She cleared her throat impatiently and rapped on my opened bedroom door.

  “Comin’ Mac? We’re going to be late.”

  “Yeah.” Regretfully, I pulled myself away from him. “I’ll see you later.”

  “I’ll be over at my house. Come by when you’re done.”

  “Okay.” I kissed him again, I couldn’t help myself. “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  “So, how was your weekend?” I asked my friend once we were seated in her car, smoking with the windows cracked only slightly. It was already cold out and the days were getting colder. I shivered, and realized that I was not looking forward to winter.

  “It was alright.” Charlie shrugged. “Courtney and I hung out. Did some H. You?”

  “About the same.” I downplayed how awesome it had really been, flicking my cigarette, trying not to ash on myself. “You really like heroin, don’t you?”

  “I do.” She admitted.

  “Me too.” I exhaled a big waft of smoke. “I just wish it weren’t so, you know … addictive. Grey says we can’t do anymore for awhile, that we should save it for special occasions.”

  “That’s probably smart.” Charlie nodded begrudgingly. “But I don’t know if it’s really that bad. I mean, I’m definitely not addicted yet.”

  “Me either.” I agreed, but I wondered if that were really true. I didn’t tell Charlie that heroin had been my first thought upon waking up, how all morning I’d nearly paced with craving, nervous because I knew I wasn’t going to get anymore for awhile. I tried to talk myself out of it though, out of the desperation, and having Grey around helped a ton. Just his presence was like a drug for me.

  I shook the topic from my mind. Just the thought of it was enough to bring back the craving. “So, did you see Zack at all this weekend?”

  Charlie turned a corner too fast. “No.” She shook her head. “He never came around.”

  “Are you going to see him?”

  She looked at me. “Do you think I should?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Me either.” Charlie sighed. “I’d like to say I won’t. I’d like to pretend I’m strong enough not to go over there. But just the thought that he’s in town, that he’s so close ….” She took a deep drag of her cigarette and then tossed the butt out the window. “Whatever. We’ll see.”

  We made it to the restaurant in record time. I was a bit apprehensive about work; I wondered what kind of reception I’d get after ditching last Friday. Charlie had skipped all last week but apparently she’d called in sick with Mark, so she was probably off the hook. We strode into the quiet restaurant, still with the calm before the inevitable rush, and went to hang up our coats in the waitress station. But there were already purses and jackets hanging there, taking up the hooks.

  We eyed each other curiously, and just then Stacy and Mallory—two part-time girls—came floating in from the top section, laughing and joking as they made their way back to the station. Stacy had a bucket full of creamers in her hand and Mallory carried an empty tray. They looked like they were getting ready to work our shift.

  “What are you girls doing here?” Charlie wondered. “Did the schedule change?”

  Stacy shrugged, looking as surprised to see us as we were to see her. “I don’t know. Ralph just called me and asked me to work.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Mallory nodded. “Why, were you guys supposed to?”

  “Uh, yeah. We always do.” Charlie’s voice was a little snippy. I bit my lip, not sure what was going on, but pretty certain it wasn’t something good. Especially if Ralph was involved.

  The girls just stared at us, as someone younger does when they’ve angered someone they look up to—repentantly. Charlie sighed and shook her head at them, flipping her blonde curls behind her shoulder.

  “Whatever. We’ll go talk to someone and get this straightened out.”

  The squeak of the swinging door on its hinges made us all look up with curiosity. Ralph came through it from the kitchen, his arms crossed against his burly chest, his red eyebrows raised with disapproval as he looked over at Charlie and me with indignation written across his face.

  “Ralph.” Charlie greeted coolly, trying to hide her surprise. “I think there’s been a mix up.”

  He only nodded. “Yes. Can I have a word, girls, if you don’t mind?” He opened the swinging door and motioned us forward. I gulped. Charlie let me walk in front of her through the kitchen and into the back, which I was thankful for. I didn’t like to think about where Ralph’s eyes would be if he were walking right behind me.

  We filed into the office—it was cluttered with papers and orders and large silver canisters of Pepsi refills. There was an ashtray overflowing with butts on the desk and many plastic cups coated in sticky pop syrup. It smelt vaguely like beer as we stood, waiting as Ralph closed the door behind him and walked through the clutter to sit at his desk. I had a very sinking suspicion that we were in trouble. Big trouble.

  “So, I’m sure you’ve probably already figured this out, but both of you are fired.” He stared at us evenly, his voice totally calm and at ease … like he’d just told us what sections we were covering instead of terminating our employment. My mouth dropped in surprise. I looked up at Charlie in horror, following her lead, not knowing what to do or say to get us out of the situation.

  She looked at Ralph a moment, her brow furrowing. “And why is that?”

  Ralph scoffed, like the answer was glaringly obvious. “Do you really want me to start? You’re late, you drop things, and you’re completely negligent. Both of you. The customers have been complaining. And
the way you’re dressing lately, I mean, not that I mind, but this is a family restaurant.”

  “Couldn’t you just like, give us a warning or something?” Charlie negotiated.

  “Maybe I would’ve. If you hadn’t cut work all last week, and if you …,” he looked straight at me, making me gulp again, his beady little green eyes angry and intolerant, “… hadn’t blown off your shift on Friday.”

  “I was sick!” Charlie insisted. “So was she!”

  “Yeah right, with what? Cocaine?” Ralph scoffed again, his pudgy face leering. “I’m not an idiot, Charlene. I know what you girls do around here. And I know that you were out at the Aurora almost every night last week. Sick? That’s insulting.”

  Oh no. I bit my lip, closing my eyes as the situation really sank in. This wasn’t happening. I had enough money troubles already without losing my job. No, I needed my job. I needed the tips, I needed the money. I needed to get high tonight, as soon as work was over. I needed cigarettes and alcohol and I needed to pay my rent. If Charlie and I were to get evicted, I’d be forced to move back in with my parents. I cringed at just the thought. No, I couldn’t lose my job. I made too much money at it. There was nothing else I knew of in a town this small that could compare.

  “Please, Ralph.” My voice seemed quiet and shaky after Charlie’s confidence. I cleared my throat and forced the words out. “What if we promised to be better? I mean, things kind of got out of control, but we’re good at what we do. I mean, we were, I guess. But we can be again. You know how well we work together, how good we can be. Most of the customers like us. Please? I can’t lose this job.”

  Something about my statement sparked an idea in Ralph’s mind. He sat for a moment and then he sighed, considering my words. His chair groaned as he leaned back in it. When finally he looked up at Charlie and me again, there was a strange glint in his green eyes, like an evil thought had just occurred there.

  “You’re desperate to keep your job, then?”

  “I’d like to, yes.” I admitted.

  “Yes.” Charlie agreed.

  “Okay, fine. You can both keep your jobs.”

  A smile spread across Charlie’s face. She looked over at me with happy surprise.

  “Oh, thanks Ralph. That’s great—”

  “On one condition.” He continued, interrupting her. Charlie stopped mid-sentence and waited, glancing at me again, cautiously this time.

  “What is that?”

  Ralph’s smile was sardonic. “Lock the door.” He ordered.

  “What? Why?”

  “I take care of you …,” he shrugged, “… you take care of me.”

  He jingled his belt buckle.

  It took me a moment to realize what he meant by that. I actually gasped. Charlie got it faster than I did. Her face froze in anger and disgust.

  “Fuck you.” She spat. “Never.”

  “It’s your job.” Ralph turned to me repugnantly. “Mackenzie?”

  I was at a loss. I needed my job; I needed it badly. What was I going to do without any money? The panic rose in my chest again as I realized that tonight we’d have to go without—no heroin, no cocaine, no weed even. No nothing. I bit my lip. Maybe … maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it would be quick. And besides, if I had the money, I could get the drugs, and if I had the drugs, I could forget about … it … later.

  “Mackenzie!” Charlie glared at me in horror. “We are leaving. Now!” She grasped my arm and slammed the door open, pulling me from Ralph’s office and out the back door so fast I couldn’t even resist. My cheeks flushed scarlet, the blood was pounding in my head.

  “What the fuck was that?” Charlie demanded angrily, wrapping her arms around herself against the cold as we stumbled to her car. “Were you actually considering it!?”

  “No! No!” I lied, shaking my head—furious, desperate. I couldn’t believe what had happened. I couldn’t believe I actually considered it, even for a moment. So much for being pure. By the time we reached her car, my tears were blinding me. I felt so ashamed of myself.

  “Fuck Charlie!” I screamed. People on the street turned to stare at me, but I didn’t care. I slammed my fist into the hood of her car. “I can’t believe I just lost my job!”

  She was wide-eyed, watching me. “It’s okay Mac. You’ll get another one.”

  “Ugh!” My breath was frosty in the dimming light. “Yeah, maybe tomorrow, or next week even. What do I do now? I need money now!”

  Charlie shook her head. “Get in the car, Mackenzie.”

  I obeyed, only because the cold was starting to numb my fingertips. It felt like it could snow any moment. I rubbed my hands together to warm them as Charlie started the car. We sat in silence for a moment, letting the engine warm up. I reached for a cigarette, vexed when I realized my pack was almost empty. I had no money for more.

  “Fuck!” I exclaimed again.

  “Okay, Mac. Calm down.”

  I breathed for a moment, shutting my eyes, trying not to panic. “What am I going to do?”

  “How much do you need?”

  “I don’t know. Enough for the week. And for rent and stuff, next week.”

  “You mean, you don’t have anything?”

  “No.” I muttered sheepishly. “I spent almost all of it last weekend.”

  “What about Grey?”

  “Nothing. Not until they start doing gigs again.” I shrugged.

  “Well … what about your parents?”

  I cringed, instantly rejecting the thought. “No, Charlie. I can’t ask them.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because.” I shut my eyes, shaking my head. I didn’t feel like getting into it with her. I could picture the faces of my parents as I asked for money. I knew my dad would gloat. “See, I knew you couldn’t do it on your own,” his face would say.

  I shook my head again, resolved. “I just can’t ask them.”

  “Oh, okay. So you almost went down on that guy because you were so desperate for money, but you can’t ask your parents for some?”

  I glared at her. “I did not almost—”

  “Whatever. Mackenzie, just don’t be an idiot. Ask your parents.”

  I sighed. Loud and long. I did need money. I became more desperate for it as the agitated minutes passed by. “Fine.” I relented—angry, irritated. “Fine, I’ll ask them. Will you drive me there?”

  “Sure.” Charlie threw the car in reverse and backed out of the stall. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  My answer was a grumble.

  When Charlie pulled up at my parents’ house it was empty, vacant—I could already tell. It had a hollow, dark feel to it … something I was all too familiar with. Something I’d come home to regularly. No one inside. No one expected anytime soon.

  “They’re not even home.” I sighed.

  “Well, you can call them later.” Charlie suggested. “I’ll drive you again.”

  “Thanks Charlie.”

  Just as she was about to pull away, I stopped her.

  “Wait.” My parents still had my things from Marcy’s wedding. I kept putting off picking them up, unwilling to face my parents again until they apologized for the whole Craig Donovan stunt. But since they weren’t home, I figured it was the perfect time. “I’ll be right back.”

  I ran up the drive, pounded my code into the keypad and opened the door. It had been months since I’d been home, but I didn’t waste any time looking around. The bag full of my stuff was in the front entry, where it had probably sat since mom called me weeks ago to come and pick it up. As I slung the bag over my shoulder, something else caught my eye.

  It was my mom’s purse. Just one of many. It was hanging over the deacons bench perched against the wall, and the flap had come open, the contents inside bulging out. I didn’t even think twice. There wasn’t even a whisper from my conscience that what I was doing was bad. Unthinkable until now. I opened up her purse and took what I knew would be inside. A neat green roll of twenties. There were
a few red fifties tucked in as well. Why my mom always insisted on carrying so much cash was beyond me, but at the moment, I was thankful for her odd little habit. I stuffed the money into my pocket—there must have been at least three-hundred dollars there—and felt instantly better.

  I ran back to the car after locking up the house, a broad smile of relief upon my face. Charlie noticed the change in my attitude immediately.

  “Find what you were looking for?” She wondered curiously.

  “You could say that.” I grinned.

  CHAPTER 50

  I was dying. I tried to swallow and my poor parched throat scraped in protest. Unwillingly I opened my bleary eyes, desperate enough for water that I forced my weary muscles to work and get me out of my bed. It was cold away from Grey’s slumbering form. I leaned on the wall for support and made my way painfully to the kitchen, trying to hurry, knowing that the faster I made it there the faster I could get back in bed.

  It was quiet in the house, still early. I padded to the sink, clad in nothing but Grey’s black Iron Maiden t-shirt and my underwear, and filled up the closest cup I could find with sweet, cold water. I chugged it back, my throat sorely struggling to swallow down the liquid, easing as the cool wet relieved the tightness there. I sighed, my eyes barely open, and poured myself another cup.

  As I drank, I noticed the door to Charlie’s room was wide open, her bedding rumpled, her bed unmade—but clearly not being slept in. I frowned with concern and my heart went out to my friend, knowing the state she was in and the reason she was in it. Zack. I bit my lip as I remembered the harsh reception Charlie had received from her once-boyfriend the night before at Grey’s house. I had convinced her to come in after our brief stop at my parents’, knowing how badly she wanted to see Zack and hoping the two of them could be reconciled. But Zack had barely given her a glance when she entered, just a small impertinent nod that was easily translated into a dismissal. That was it. No words, no apologies, no explanations. Like Charlie wasn’t even worth the effort.