Life of the Party

by Christine Anderson

  It was too much to bear. I swallowed thickly, keeping the bile at bay.

  “Grey,” my voice was unrecognisable, harsh and choking in my ears, “Grey, please … I can’t do this … I can’t ….” I wept, tears of anguish disappearing into the beads of sweat upon my cheeks. “Please ….”

  He turned over to me; I knew it hurt for him to do so. Every movement hurt. He was in just as much agony as I was.

  “It’ll get better. I promise.”

  “No, it won’t. It can’t. I’m sick, Grey. I’m so sick.”

  “I know.” He reached for my hand and brought it to his lips. “Please, just be strong. For me, be strong ….”

  Hours passed. It didn’t get better. I was writhing, flipping in pain, groaning and gritting my teeth, my body pulsing with sweat and nausea. I was dying. That was all there was to it. I was going to die.

  Grey voiced my exact thought. “I’m fucking dying here.” He groaned. I’d never heard his voice so full of agony; I’d never seen him so weak. He sat up on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

  “Grey …,” I reached for him, but he was gone. “No, Grey, don’t leave me, please. Don’t leave me alone.” I meant to yell for him, but my voice was no stronger than a strangled whisper. I collapsed back onto the bed, too weak for anything else, all my energy pent-up in my racking sickness. Crying, sobbing, shaking, trembling, I pulled myself into a ball and waited for death.

  A voice came to me from beyond the pain, the voice of an angel.

  “Mackenzie.” Grey was calm again, in control of himself. I pried my eyes open, cringing as the light assailed them.

  “Grey.” I cried. “Please. Make it stop. Please.”

  His face was before me, tortured, his blue eyes desperate and sad. I barely felt him grip my arm, barely registered the sharp sting of the needle ….

  And then everything was good again. The sickness receded, falling back, surrendering to the sweet heat of the drugs sweeping through my veins that killed off every ill feeling, every ounce of pain that had plagued my body. I could breathe again, breathe easily. My muscles relaxed, my body slackened against the bed. A few moments more and I found myself actually smiling, something I didn’t think I’d ever do again.

  “Thank you,” I sighed. “Thank you.”

  Grey was playing his music. It came to me from somewhere beyond my dreams, making me smile in my sleep. When I opened my eyes, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, quietly strumming his guitar. Even without the practice he didn’t make one mistake, and the notes weaved in and around me in a beautiful melody. I sighed happily.

  “Grey?” I sat up.

  “Hey,” Grey turned back to me, “how you feeling?”

  “Good.” I realized with surprise. “Better. You?”

  “Better.” He nodded, looking back at his guitar. He seemed resigned … relaxed, almost. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but I thought he’d be more upset about our failure to get off the drugs. We’d given up; we hadn’t been able to last. He smirked at me sheepishly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Making you go through that. If I’d known it was going to be so hard to quit, I never would have started again in the first place. I never would have let you do it. It was stupid of me, I didn’t realize ….”

  “No, of course you couldn’t.” I stopped him short. “Don’t worry about me, Grey. I’m totally fine.”

  “Yeah, you are now.” He grimaced. “But you didn’t look fine a few hours ago.”

  “It felt like I was going to die.” I admitted, shuddering in remembrance. “But I didn’t.”

  “No.”

  “So, what do we do now?”

  “I don’t know.” Grey frowned and strummed idly. “Cut back, I guess, so next time it’s not so hard.”

  “That makes sense.” I nodded. I couldn’t help but be relieved—this statement meant there was going to be more heroin in my near future. Again, Grey’s attitude surprised me. It made me wonder if he’d been hoping this would happen. I knew how much he loved the drugs, almost as much as I did. We may have found it too hard to quit, but at least now we could say we tried.

  “We do need to cut back though,” he insisted, as if trying to convince himself, “like seriously. We have to get clean.”

  “Yeah.” I agreed. But they were just words. Empty, meaningless words said with no real conviction. I loved heroin. I didn’t really want to quit, and I knew Grey didn’t want to either.

  “I think you should at least get a job.” His blue eyes smiled at me. “It’ll help, knowing you have to go out and work. It’ll keep us from getting high all day.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him and flopped back on the bed dramatically. “Grey, come on. Can’t you just support all my habits?” I teased. Well, half-teased. I really never wanted this holiday to end.

  “Not yet, sugar. Maybe one day.” He smirked at me.

  I huffed. “I need a shower.”

  “Don’t change the subject. Seriously. Where are you going to look?”

  “I don’t know. The lumberyard? They must be hiring, now that Zack and Alex are done there.”

  “The lumberyard? You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

  I glared at him. “Could too.”

  He chuckled. “Could not.”

  “Really?” I pushed the sleeve of my shirt up and flexed my bicep—impressively, I thought. “Now tell me I couldn’t.”

  Grey burst into laughter. He pulled his guitar off over his head and set it gingerly against the bed, then wrapped his hand almost completely around the hard muscle of my arm.

  “Wow, that is impressive.” He snorted. “I take it back. Maybe you’d last seven minutes.”

  I knew it was futile, but I attacked him, trying to pin him back to the bed … apparently the only wrestling move I knew. He let me win again, falling back easily and chuckling as I used all of my one-hundred and ten pounds to keep him there.

  “Mackenzie?”

  “Yeah?” I gloated from above him.

  “You’re right.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes. You do need a shower.”

  I attacked him again, gleefully, but he wasn’t having it this time. In seconds I was pinned to my side, and we wrestled, and he tickled me, and the sounds of our happy, youthful laughter floated down the hallway.

  CHAPTER 52

  I couldn’t find Charlie anywhere. I pressed my way through the throng of people—it still felt strange to be up and out of the house and around others after so long, even stranger to have put actual make-up on and done something with myself. It was Saturday night and I was at the Aurora, where the guys were slated to start playing any minute. The place was packed; apparently Serpentine’s infamy had only grown from their time spent away at the studio. The club was busier now than I’d ever seen it.

  I hoped Charlie would be there. I mean, I knew she didn’t really have a reason to be there now—at least not like before, when she was with Zack—but still I hoped. Courtney worked at the Aurora; I had caught sight of her through the crowd, and thought maybe Charlie would be there as well. I hadn’t seen her in what felt like ages, and I hadn’t been lucid enough to have an actual conversation with her for even longer.

  “Excuse me, miss?” A familiar voice chuckled behind me. “Can I get you a drink?”

  I turned around, recognizing her instantly. “Charlie!”

  “You know it, baby.” She twirled for me, clad in an Aurora uniform, a little black skirt and a tank top with bright pink letters across the front. She carried a tray and wore a little waitress apron so full of cash that she jangled when she walked. I smiled at her in amazement.

  “Wow! You work here!”

  “Yeah. I just started, last week.”

  I felt terrible. I lived with the girl, and I had no idea. “That’s so great Charlie! Wow. I’m sorry I’ve been so out of it lately. I got a bit … you know ….�
��

  “It’s all good.” She smiled, her lovely blonde curls shaking around her face. “I knew you were alive. I figured you’d snap out of it eventually.”

  We had to yell to talk. I knew this wasn’t the time or place for the kind of conversation I wanted to have with her, which was a good heart to heart, like before. So I kept it light.

  “Do you like it here?” I wondered.

  “Yeah, I do. It’s great. The tips are fantastic. And …,” she leaned in closer to me, her blue eyes delighted. “They’re still hiring. I could put a good word in for you, if you want.”

  “What? Really?”

  “Yeah, Mac, come on! Think about it. What other place would you get paid to party?”

  “You get to party?”

  “Hell yeah! I mean, you can’t get like, sloshed or anything, you have to be able to function, but you can drink and shit. Come on, do it so we can work together again. It’d be great.”

  “What are your hours like?”

  “I work from like seven till two or three. Seriously, Mac. It’s awesome.”

  It sounded awesome. I smiled, and nodded. So far, I hadn’t been able to get hired by the lumberyard. “I’d love to work with you. Do you think they’ll hire me?”

  “Come on.” Charlie yanked on my hand. “Let’s go see.”

  She made her way through the bustling crowd, which was definitely a skill I would have to attain if I were to work there, especially with a tray full of drinks. As she pulled me along behind her I had to admit that it scared me a little, the prospect of serving such an unruly, drunken mob. At the same time though, I was excited by the challenge.

  I followed Charlie eagerly, happy that I’d actually put some effort into myself since it seemed I was going to an impromptu job interview. My dark hair was piled up in curls on top of my head, messy and punky; I wore black heels and tight black jeans with a deep red v-neck belted shirt. I looked pretty good—not Charlie good, but still very pretty.

  We went through the staff entrance down a long, tiled hallway. The noise from the bass pumping on the dance floor could still be heard faintly, muted as it was by the walls in between. The general offices were tucked around the corner, and Charlie rapped on the dark wooden door, pushing it open after only waiting a moment.

  “Hello?”

  There was a man at the desk in the small cluttered office. He had dark short hair and wore glasses, his desk was covered in cash-out sheets and order forms. He motioned for us to come in and we waited quietly as he finished up his phone conversation.

  “Hey Charlie, what can I do for you?” He finally said, acknowledging us as he flipped his cell phone shut.

  “Hey Walter. You’re still looking for waitresses, right?”

  “Yeah.” Walter smiled hopefully and looked me over. “Okay. You’re hired. When can you start?”

  I started to giggle, but then I realized he was serious. “Uhhh … I can start … whenever you want me to.”

  “Tonight?”

  I stammered, taken aback. “Ye-yeah. Sure.”

  “Great. Charlie, you’ll show her around, won’t you?”

  “Of course.” She answered happily.

  “Great, thank you. Oh, and hey,” Walter smiled at me again, “maybe I should get your name.”

  “It’s Mackenzie.” I grinned, holding out my hand for him.

  “Walter. Lovely to meet you.” He shook it, and then motioned to the door. “I’ll have to get your actual information sometime for payroll. But for now, off you go.”

  Charlie and I giggled to each other on the way out the door.

  “Wow. Did that really just happen? That was so abrupt.” I couldn’t believe I just got a job; it was such a relief to me. And I got to work with Charlie again. I beamed ecstatically as we walked down the hallway, unable to believe my luck.

  Charlie chuckled. “Yeah. That was Walter. We’re a little desperate here, if you hadn’t noticed.” She pulled me through another door into a grungy little staff room. Old, peeling, black and white checked linoleum covered the floor, and dated vinyl booths took up a good portion of the wall. Charlie led me past these, over to an older metal storage locker scrawled with ink from years and years of graffiti. “Here, these should be your size.” She rummaged around a moment and then held up a skirt and a tank top taken from the communal closet.

  “Holy crap, Mackenzie. Do you eat anymore?” Charlie frowned, looking between my tiny frame and the size of the clothes in her hand.

  I laughed. “Of course I eat.” Just not very much.

  She shook her head doubtfully and found me a size smaller. “Here. We each get a locker for our shit; you can have this one beside mine. Go change into your uniform, and then I’ll show you the rest.”

  “Okay.” Ecstatically I headed into the washroom and changed my clothes as quickly as I could. The only shoes I had with me were heels, and though they weren’t exactly practical, they would have to do. The uniform skirt was short, showing ample leg; the tank top tight across my chest. Knowing what I did now about the skin to tip ratio, I figured I was going to have a good night.

  Charlie looked me over once I was finished. “Hmm … don’t worry about those,” she pointed, “it’s so dark in the club, no one will notice them.”

  “What do you mean?” I followed her gaze, confused. She was looking down at my arms, at the various track marks that were marring my skin.

  “Wow. I didn’t realize they were so … noticeable.”

  “It’s bright in here. Anyway, don’t worry about it. Besides that, you look awesome.” She threw me an apron after I piled my clothes in the locker. “You should always carry about twenty-dollars change in this apron for a float. I’ll lend you some until the end of the night, okay?” She instructed, pouring some coins into one of the pockets. “Ready?”

  “Ready.” I nodded. But then, Charlie smiled slyly at me.

  “Not quite ready.” She pulled something clandestinely from the bag in her locker and handed it over to me. “Here. Take some, for old times sake.”

  I giggled and quickly unscrewed the vial, snorting the beautiful cocaine powder up into my sinuses. I had missed this too, a lot. I took a few more and then handed it back to Charlie, who did one quickly and then replaced it in her bag.

  “Okay, good. Come with me.” She smiled.

  The place was thrumming. Grey’s band was on by the time we made it back out, and they were about partway through the first song of their set. It was nearly impossible to get through the avid crowd cheering before the stage. Charlie had to throw some elbows. I stared up at Grey as he sang, just as entranced as ever, like it was my first time seeing him up there. He was so gorgeous. I loved the way he spread his legs, the way his jeans were tight on his thighs, the way his muscular arms held his guitar and demanded such beautiful, screaming music of it. I loved how his blue eyes scanned the crowd, how a slight dimple graced his stubbled cheek as he smirked, how his perfect lips crooned the lyrics with his husky, perfect voice. And he was mine. That was the absolute best part. Grey was mine.

  Charlie managed to lead me to the main bar. The pace wasn’t too frantic while everyone’s attention was diverted by the band. I did my best to listen and learn as Charlie dragged me around the place, talking a mile a minute about drink orders and computer systems and everything else. It was all a little overwhelming at first, but I knew I would get the hang of it eventually.

  I worked mostly at clearing tables for the rest of the night, which was a relief, something I could handle. I didn’t feel capable enough to try and run the computer system just yet. And the place was a mess. I could see now why the floor was always sticky and how the vinyl booths became ripped; why cigarette butts lined the floor. Drunk people were ridiculous. I wasn’t used to being around them so sober. They were actually kind of … annoying. Every once in awhile though, Charlie would pull me aside and we’d do a shot at the bar. Once I had a good, happy buzz going I didn’t mind the idiots spilling their drinks and stumbling o
vertop of me. It was actually kind of fun, like Charlie had said.

  But there was one down side to working there that I hadn’t foreseen.

  When Grey’s band finished, they went back to the VIP section, just like usual. But this time, I couldn’t go with him. There were designated staff assigned especially for that section, and I’d have to work my way up the totem pole to ever be given such a position. I sighed, watching as pretty young girls filed into the VIP room, biting back the jealousy that flared within me. I knew I could trust Grey, without a doubt, but I also knew I couldn’t trust any of those other girls.

  I was busy working away, cleaning up the sticky, disgusting mess of tables, when I felt a sudden hand on my waist. I smiled at the touch—I knew without a doubt who it was standing behind me. And all my worries melted away.

  “Excuse me, sir.” I turned around, playfully slapping his hand away. “I have a boyfriend, and he wouldn’t like you touching me.”

  “Well,” he smirked, his voice low, “I have a girlfriend, too, but you’re so damn pretty, I couldn’t help myself.”

  “Hmm ….” I smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Gorgeous, more like.

  “This boyfriend, is he a big guy?”

  “Yeah. Huge.” I raised my eyebrows.

  “Well. That is a problem.” Grey wrapped his hands around my waist. “I guess I’ll have to take my chances.”

  I smiled as he pulled me to him and in seconds we were kissing. Lost in the sea of people, I knew no one would ever notice. Still, I made myself pull away from him before we got too hot and heavy. I was at work, after all.

  “You guys sounded great.” I wiped my lipstick from his lips. “Amazing turn out, hey?”

  “Yeah, it was good.” He shook his head. “I almost forgot my lines though, when I looked out and saw you … in this,” he motioned to my scanty uniform. “Damn you’re hot. Do you think this boyfriend will mind if I take you home tonight?”

  “Who cares?” I shrugged happily.

  He grinned. “So you’re really working here now?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. This guy just gave me a job, like, on the spot. And Charlie said she makes great tips. I think it’ll be okay.”