The Party

by Robyn Harding

  “We can and we are… . Lisa’s being punitive and vindictive. Our lawyer agrees.”

  Graham stared up at the sky for a moment, like he’d just noticed clouds for the first time. Then Jeff realized the man was shaking his head, almost chuckling with incredulity. “No fucking way,” he muttered to the birds.

  “Uh … yes way.”

  Graham looked at his colleague. “There’s something you need to know, Jeff … about the LSD.”

  Fuck.

  “My wife knows about it.”

  “You said she didn’t.”

  “Because I thought you were fucking smart enough to keep this out of court!” Graham’s face was red, not just from the exertion. He was angry. And scared. Oh shit …

  The big man paced as he continued. “Jennie knew I was on something when I came home that day. So I told her we’d taken some LSD. I didn’t think she’d freak out—she’s not an uptight twat like Kim.”

  “Watch it, asshole.”

  Graham continued to move back and forth like a caged bear. “But Jennie freaked out … Taking psychedelics in the middle of the day made her think I was some crazed drug friend.”

  “Right. Okay …” Jeff said over the hammering in his chest. “But obviously she’s not going to volunteer this information.”

  “It gets worse.” Graham stopped pacing. “Jennie needed to get away after she found out. She said she needed space to ‘process it.’ She went to a fucking mindfulness retreat … yoga, meditation, lots of juice … I don’t fucking get it.”

  “And?”

  “She made a new friend there … Lisa Monroe.”

  Jeff could hear the blood pounding in his ears and his chest tightened. Was this a heart attack? A panic attack? Maybe he wasn’t in as good of shape as he thought? But Graham just kept talking, like Jeff wasn’t about to collapse into a quivering pile of jelly right in front of him.

  “Jennie told Lisa everything—Lisa’s dealt with druggie boyfriends in the past, so she was Jennie’s confidante, her sounding board. Lisa was all too happy to listen to every gory fucking detail.”

  “Jesus Christ, Graham. Why didn’t you tell me this?”

  “Because I thought you’d take care of it, asshole! I thought you’d make it right!”

  “We are making it right. It was an accident! It could have happened anywhere!”

  Graham resumed his pointless walking. “Jennie will be subpoenaed… . She’ll have to testify that you and I took LSD together. She’ll be humiliated.”

  “Let me talk to my lawyer,” Jeff said, keeping his voice calm and steady. “Maybe we can prevent her from taking the stand.”

  “We’ll both get fired. I’ve read the company drug policy. It’s black-and-white.”

  Fuck … fuck, fuck, fuck … But Jeff didn’t say this out loud.

  Graham stopped walking and loomed over his friend. “If you go to trial, I’m fucked. I’ll lose my job, my reputation… . I could lose my wife!”

  “You won’t. I’ll deal with it.”

  Graham bore down on him. “You had your chance to deal with it, Jeff! You could have made this all go away! But you and Kim care more about your fucking bank account than a girl’s eye!”

  Blind rage took over, and Jeff was lunging at Graham before he had time to think. If he had thought, Jeff would have ascertained that Graham had at least thirty pounds on him, six inches of reach, and a decade of brawling his way through Aussie rules football games, leaving Jeff with virtually no chance of victory. But still, Jeff threw his slight body against the side of beef that had so incensed him.

  Unfortunately for Jeff, the side of beef was angry, too. Jeff’s shoulder had just made contact with Graham’s ribs when the bigger man shoved him violently away, then hauled back and punched Jeff neatly in the face. There was a crack—knuckles connecting with the bridge of Jeff’s nose—and the force threw him backward, but there was no pain (that would come later). Jeff must have been in shock, for even as the blood began to seep from his nose, dripping steadily on the pavement like a leaky udder, one thought kept running through his mind: Kim’s going to kill me.

  “How many more lives are you and Kim going to ruin, huh?” Graham spat. “How many more innocent people have to pay for your fucking mistakes?”

  “Fuck you,” Jeff muttered, blood dripping into his mouth, making him cough and splutter. He could feel Graham’s eyes on him, assessing his hunched over, bleeding form. The big Aussie was going to finish him off with a knee to the stomach, an elbow to the back, a boot to the face. Jeff braced for it; in fact, he’d almost welcome the distraction from his nose, which was beginning to pound with pain. But no blow came.

  “You’re pathetic,” Graham grunted. Then a ball of spit and phlegm landed at Jeff’s feet. As Graham walked away, Jeff watched the loogy mingle with the nose blood pooled on the sidewalk. The mixture of bodily fluids meandered its way, languidly, across the pavement.

  lisa

  SIXTY-NINE DAYS AFTER

  The sun snaked its way through the heavy curtains, bringing with it evidence of the bustle of midmorning playing out beyond this masculine bedroom. It served to dampen the romantic mood Allan had worked hard to create—candlelight, soft music, satin sheets—not that Lisa was in an amorous mood today … or any other day when they convened at Allan’s one-bedroom apartment to make love. This had become a ritual, an attempt to normalize their romantic relationship while Ronni was at school. Usually, Lisa was willing to put in a performance to appease her partner; it seemed a small price to pay for the support and comfort he’d provided her through this ordeal. But today, Ronni was at home, in bed, and Lisa found herself unable or unwilling to make the effort. As Allan’s hands roamed her body, her mind stayed firmly on her child’s dilemma.

  “Ronni’s refusing to go back to school,” she said, shifting Allan’s hand from her lower belly to the less erogenous zone of her hip. “But if she misses much more, she’ll have to repeat the year.”

  “What about online courses?” Allan murmured, his hand drifting down her thigh.

  “I don’t want Ronni shut away in our apartment like some freak. High school’s about more than courses. It’s about learning to socialize and work with other people. She deserves the full experience.”

  “Of course she does,” Allan said into her neck. Lisa subtly shifted away from him. She hoped he’d get the hint that she wasn’t in the mood for sex right now. But the fact that she had dutifully crawled into bed naked with him may have been contradicting that message.

  “I told her she has to go back Monday. She can’t hide from those disgusting little fuckers any longer.”

  “Whoa, Lisa …” Allan looked at her like she’d just spewed a stream of racial slurs. “They’re just kids.”

  “They’re bullies,” Lisa retorted, shifting farther away from him. His naked body rubbing against her was suddenly repulsive. “I told you what they did to Ronni in the cafeteria.”

  “That was horrible,” Allan said, reaching for her arm. “But kids are stupid. They don’t realize how cruel they’re being.”

  Lisa had a sudden urge to punch him, but instead, she threw the sheet off her and got out of bed. She was shaking as she stepped into her underpants, her stomach twisting into knots of turmoil. It was as if Lisa had been in the cafeteria that day … but it was worse. She hadn’t been there, hadn’t been able to protect her daughter. She had one job… .

  She could picture the scene vividly in her mind’s eye. Ronni bravely entering the lunchroom alone. A friend had promised to meet her there (probably one of the religious girls who had recently taken a shine to her), so Ronni had scanned the room for a companion. The girl must have been running late, so Ronni had gone to the lunch counter and grabbed some food—veggies and hummus, the girl lived on the stuff—and found an inconspicuous table at the back. She had nibbled at a carrot stick, keeping one eye (the seeing eye, obviously) trained on the door.

  Then it started. A spoon was banged on a table and a boy b
egan to chant: “Cyclops, Cyclops, Cyclops …” Ronni wouldn’t say who it was, but Lisa would have guessed Noah Chambers or that Adam kid. They had been her daughter’s friends, but, like Lauren Ross, had turned on her since the accident. Why? What defect in their personalities, what deficiency in their parenting had made them so heartless? So cruel? But it wasn’t just them… . Another boy joined the chant, then a few girls, until there was a rousing chorus. “Cyclops. Cyclops. Cyclops.” It wasn’t everyone in the lunchroom, but enough of them. Ronni had stood and fled. She hadn’t been back to school since.

  “Don’t go,” Allan pleaded as Lisa zipped up her jeans.

  “I just … I can’t right now, okay?”

  “We don’t have to have sex.” He reached toward her. “You’re upset. Let me hold you.”

  She looked at him lying there: naked, vulnerable, younger than her by five years, but by decades emotionally. He didn’t get it. How could he? “Ronni will be up soon. I need to be there.”

  “Okay.” Allan threw his legs out of the bed and stood. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No, go surfing or something,” Lisa said, struggling into her bra. “I’ve got a busy day. I’m meeting Paul this afternoon. He thinks we should have a jury trial—it’s more complicated and more expensive, but with the emotional stakes in this case, he thinks it’s the way to go.”

  Allan was putting on his robe. “Are you up for that?”

  “The jury will have to look at Ronni every day in court, at what Jeff and Kim did to her. We can’t lose.”

  “And you’re willing to put Ronni through that?”

  “It’s a means to an end. Ronni understands that.” Lisa pulled her shirt over her head, slipped her arms into the sleeves. “We both just want it all to be over… .” She almost smiled when she said, “I’m kind of looking forward to seeing Kim’s face when all their personal shit comes out.”

  Allan clearly didn’t share her anticipation. “What about our personal shit? I smoke pot pretty regularly. Could they use that against you?”

  “It’s just pot. And you’re not really that big a part of my life.” She saw him wince, so she backtracked. “I mean Ronni’s life. You’re important to me, but you don’t live with us. You don’t sleep over… . Besides, Jeff Sanders took LSD!”

  “Trials can get ugly.”

  “Yeah, they can. But in the end, we’ll win. And Ronni will get what she deserves.”

  Allan moved toward the bathroom. “I’ll have a quick shower. I don’t have to be at the restaurant until four, so I can come with you.”

  Lisa could hear him peeing. She called over the volume, “It’s okay. I don’t need you there.”

  The stream finished and Allan poked his head out the door. He still had his dick in his hands, she could tell. “Then I’ll hang out with Ronni while you’re out.”

  For some reason, this intimacy galled her. How had she let Allan get so close to her that he could talk about her daughter while he was “shaking the drips”? She had let her guard down and Allan had sneaked into her inner sanctum. Lisa had let herself be distracted by his kindness, his tight ass and muscular pecs… . It was supposed to be Lisa and Ronni against the world, and she had let herself be sidetracked by sex. She had to focus now. This trial would be the fight of her life.

  “Really, it’s fine,” she called. “Go for a surf.”

  “It’s okay!” He disappeared, and she heard the shower turn on. She knew what she had to do. She hurried into the bathroom.

  He was about to step into the glass stall when she said, “I don’t think I can do this right now.”

  Allan paused. “Do what?”

  “This … Us … I don’t think it’s working.”

  He turned off the faucet and faced her, stark naked, completely comfortable. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ve been great, Allan. You’re very sweet but … it’s not a good time for me to be with someone.”

  “I want to be here. For you and for Ronni.”

  “I know you do. But …” She had to hurt him; it was the only way. “You’re a distraction that I don’t have time for.”

  Her words stung and she saw him flinch. Then his jaw tensed. “A distraction from your hate and your anger?”

  “You’re a distraction from my daughter … and what she needs.”

  “What she needs is love and support and understanding. Not lawsuits and rage and acrimony.”

  Fuck him and his sanctimony. “Thanks, Deepak Chopra.” Lisa stormed out of the bathroom. She wasn’t about to listen to Allan’s two-cent psychoanalysis, more New Age bullshit about love and forgiveness. Lisa had cut Yeva and Co. out of her life because of it. She was going to have to do the same with Allan. It was time to leave. Where had she left her purse? Her keys?

  Allan trailed behind her, following her through the cramped apartment like a puppy … a naked puppy. “Why are you so afraid to let anything good into your life?”

  Lisa turned on him. “I’m not! I’m about to let three million bucks into my life.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t even realize how horrible that sounds.”

  “Horrible? My daughter is blind! She’s disfigured!”

  “She’s not blind, Kim! She can still see! And she’s not disfigured. Maybe she’s not perfect, like she was, but she looks fine. I mean, it’s not like she had acid thrown in her face or something.”

  “Oh my god …”

  He tried to save himself, but it was too late. “I’m not minimizing what Ronni’s been through. It’s terrible. And traumatic. But I don’t think this war with the Sanderses is helping things.” He reached for her but she stepped away from his grasp. “You’re so angry, babe. You’re so focused on making them pay. You should be thinking of Ronni and helping her heal.”

  Lisa stared at this man, this naked stranger standing before her. How could she have thought he was her ally? How could she have leaned on him for support? He didn’t understand what it was like for her and Ronni. She spotted her purse on the end of the sofa and snatched it up.

  “Go to hell, Allan.” She hurried to the door.

  AS SHE DROVE back to her apartment, Lisa’s anger slowed to a simmer. In fact, it seemed to be morphing into a compelling urge to burst into tears. She knew the adage “the truth hurts,” but that wasn’t the case here. Allan made it sound like Lisa was hell-bent on a vindictive mission to the detriment of her only child. Not true, not true at all. She simply wanted the Sanderses to take responsibility for what happened under their roof that night, and make sure that Ronni was compensated for her pain and suffering. When the trial was over, when the money was in the bank, then they would focus on healing. Together. Without the distraction of a sexy but sanctimonious chef who thought he was the second coming of Dr. Wayne Dyer.

  Her favorite coffee shop appeared on her right and she spontaneously steered into the small parking lot. She didn’t want to bring anger and negative emotions into the home, didn’t want to infect Ronni with them. She needed to stall. She went inside and ordered two lattes and a “morning power muffin” for Ronni. It was heavy and leaden, chock-full of seeds and dates and flax. It would be good for her. By the time Lisa was back behind the wheel, she was beginning to feel almost level.

  The apartment was quiet when she walked in; Ronni must be sleeping late … extremely late. Lisa would have checked her watch, but her hands were full of lattes and a quarter-pound muffin. As she set them on the small dining table, she noticed the half-empty mug of tea, still warm, on the table. Ronni was up after all… .

  She called into the quiet. “Hi, hon! I brought you a muffin and a latte!”

  No response.

  Lisa walked down the hall and peeked in Ronni’s bedroom. The bed was empty but for the open laptop perched on the tangle of covers. She had to be in the bathroom. Lisa went to the door and listened for the shower. Silence. She knocked. “Ronni?” Nothing.

  Her heart was beginning to pound with unsubstantiated fear. Where was
her daughter? She walked into her own room, marginally larger and tidier than her daughter’s. Of course she wasn’t there, why would she be?

  “Ronni?” Lisa called, louder this time as she moved back to the kitchen. She scanned cluttered counters and the fridge magnets for a note but found none. A glance at the door confirmed the presence of Ronni’s shoes. She was here; she had to be. Her heart hammering in her ears now, she ran back to the bathroom and tried the door. It was locked.

  Panic took over. “Ronni! Ronni!” she screamed, rattling the door handle. “Answer me, goddammit!” She threw her slight body at the flimsy door. It gave a little under her weight, but she wouldn’t be able to knock it off its hinges. She beat it, pounded it, kicked it, screaming until her throat hurt. “Ronni! Please! Answer me!”

  A bobby pin. When she was a kid, she would pick the lock on her sister’s door with a bobby pin. She sprinted into her daughter’s room and combed through the clutter on her dresser: hair bands, nail polish, earrings, and there, next to a sticky bottle of some kind of hair product, were four bobby pins. She ran back and inserted one into the lock. She jiggled, felt the cheap locking mechanism release.

  There was a moment before she opened the door, when she pleaded with God, the universe, the higher power, whatever … Don’t let this be. But she already knew. As she opened the door and felt it stop, a weight blocking its path, she knew. She slipped through the gap in the door and saw her. Ronni lay crumpled on the linoleum, in her pink robe, inert, pale, so pale… . Lisa dropped to her knees and grabbed for her baby, pulling the limp form into her arms, pressing it to her chest. There was blood on Ronni’s mouth and her chin, splattered onto the fleece of her robe. “What did you do?” Lisa screamed at her lifeless form. “What did you do?” Then a bubble of blood appeared on her daughter’s lips, then another. Breath. Ronni was alive. She set her daughter down and ran to the phone.

  kim

  SEVENTY DAYS AFTER

  When Candace Sugarman arrived at Kim’s door on a Saturday morning, Kim knew it must be serious. Now that Jeff’s LSD use was admissible, their odds of winning had obviously changed. Kim had made Jeff call Candace immediately, made him admit that his so-called friend had ratted him out to his yoga-loving wife who, in turn, had snitched to Lisa Monroe. And that wasn’t to mention the current state of her husband’s face. What judge or jury was going to side with a man with two black eyes and a swollen nose? Candace must be here to tell them they were going to lose the case now. They should pay up before their dirty laundry was aired in open court.