Dia of the Dead

by Brinson, Brit

  Someone in the crowd laughed loudly and was met with a chorus of hissed shhhhhhhhh’s. Mr. Bixby must not have heard it or decided to pay it no mind because he continued his speech.

  “We have watched you grow over the years and mature into a lovely young woman. We’re happy to be able to celebrate this milestone with you, my dear—the first of many. Happy Birthday, BB.” He slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulder. She leaned into the embrace, filling the role of doting parent perfectly.

  BB smiled her terrified beauty queen smile and said something that made her parents’ faces light up.

  “Reagan, would you like to say anything?” Mr. Bixby asked.

  She nodded and took the microphone from her father. She turned to her sister and relaxed her stance—jutting out her hip. “Love ya bunches, bitch! Happy birthday!” She threw her arms around her sister and gave her a hug. Reagan stepped away after a moment and BB grabbed the microphone from her.

  “Okay. We’re done with this lame stuff, right? Because I’m ready to party!” BB threw her arms in the air and let out a squeal while the crowd cheered.

  “Alright you heard the birthday girl. Let’s get this party started!” DJ Pantomime chimed in from the mic at his station. “I’m gonna need all the sexy ladies on the dance floor. Right. Now.” He started the music again.

  Some of the crowd at the rail began to head toward the stairs to join the folks dancing on the floor below.

  “Where’re you going, Mason?” I asked.

  He stopped and turned back toward me. “Down to the dance floor.”

  “He said ‘sexy ladies,’ dude. Ladies.” Brendan said, leaning away from the rail.

  “I know he said ‘ladies’ but he also said ‘sexy.’ And sexy is something that I am. It’d be a crime to keep these moves to myself.” He did a quick two-step and a spin. “Who wants to dance?”

  “I do!” Kaci waved, pushing me aside to get closer to him.

  He looked at Kaci and smiled. “Taylor, wanna join me?” He extended his hand to her and she accepted. “Come on girl.” He escorted her toward the stairs.

  “Mason, wait!” Kaci called. “I said I wanted to dance. I have moves too. Look! Look!”

  She did a stiff, awkward body roll.

  “Wait! Wait for me!” She called again.

  Kaci ran after them, leaving me alone with Brendan Baker.

  THREE

  “Oh man. I love this song.” Brendan bobbed his head to music I could barely hear over the sound of my freaking out.

  Taylor had told me to stay away from him and yet, here I was standing with him. Alone. Well, not alone-alone since there were still a few others hanging out along the balcony. But there wasn’t anyone there to serve as a buffer. We werealone.

  My heart raced and my palms grew super sweaty as I looked at his profile while he swayed along to the beat. I felt like I was going to explode into a million pieces and rain down on the dancing crowd like confetti. I took a deeeeeeep breath, wrangling in my fangirlness and managed an only-sorta-uncomfortable-smile.

  Brendan added some slightly offbeat snapping to his swaying. “I really love this song.”

  “I do too.” I bobbed along with him.

  “Doesn’t it make you want to dance?”

  “I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “Not much of a dancer? Really?” He looked down at me with an eyebrow raised. “It looked like you could hold your own on a dance floor in the episode ofDia of the Dead where she tried out for Romero High’s pom squad or something. Who knew zombies could dance like that? Who knew zombies could dance?”

  “Oh my god, you watch my show?”

  “I don’t watch it every Wednesday but I’ve caught a few episodes. It’s cheesy but watchable. Plus, I think I might have a little crush on Dia Muerto. She’s hot. Even for a zombie.” His signature lopsided grin appeared.

  “You’re pretty easy on the eyes too.”

  I let out a nervous laugh that sounded a bit like a hyena. I clapped my hand over my mouth and cringed. While I could fill textbooks with info on how to crush on cuties, I didn’t exactly have much experience in the boy department. In fact, I had no experience. Mason asked me out once during the first few weeks of filming for the show. I nearly said “yes,”—I mean, I had eyes and Mason was cute—but I picked up on Kaci’s crush fairly early on and turned him down. He wasn’t hurt too badly by my rejection though. Not even five minutes after he asked if I wanted to get sushi with him sometime, he had already made plans with a busty extra. Besides, my mom would’ve said “hell no” to me going anywhere with Mason Jackson.

  I sighed and looked around. The song transitioned into something that made the crowd “woooooo!” Ashlee-Marie from Totally Tubular Television or Tri-T, exclaimed, “This is my jam!” as she hustled her . . . uh . . . extra rubenesque frame toward the stairs in a pair of chunky heels.

  “Okay. This is my jam too.” Brendan snapped his fingers. “I can’t stand here much longer pretending like I don’t want to dance with you, Dia. So how ‘bout it?” He set those blue-blue eyes on me and extended his hand.

  I looked out onto the dance floor at the tons of people dancing. I spotted BB and Reagan near the stage. They looked to be having fun. Taylor danced with Mason while an angry fluff of pink krumped just a little outside of his orbit. I had to talk to Kaci about the Mason thing after the party.

  With so many people, I was sure no one would notice if Brendan and I were to join them. I put my hand in his. A spark ripped through my entire body like a mini lightning bolt. Brendan dropped my hand.

  “You felt it too?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Sorry. I ran out of dryer sheets.”

  “Oh. . . It’s okay. Totally okay.” I grabbed his hand again. At that moment, I knew what every boy band in the world sang about in their songs. I was in love.

  Okay, not really but the party was definitely looking up.

  I floated toward the doors that lead to the first floor hand-in-hand with Brendan Baker and right into a pair of girls stumbling up the stairs toward us. I stopped, frozen in place. A silent scream rose in my throat.

  “O-O-OMG!” I stammered pointing at the girls. One of them I recognized immediately. Pretty and petite with long black hair and warm brown eyes. “Viv!”

  “You can call me Amber.” She smiled as she struggled to keep the girl beside her on her feet.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh my god. Amber Lao!” I shrieked. “And Missy? Missy Bolton?”

  “What?” The thin dirty blonde girl snapped.

  I was staring at Bixby Royalty in wide-eyed adoration. Missy Bolton and Amber Lao,or Maddie Charles and Viv Lee as I knew them, stood in front of me. Well, Amber stood, supporting her friend who leaned on the wall of the stairwell.

  “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a mini reunion here.” Brendan said. “Good seeing you, Amby. Miss.”

  “Brendan!” Missy launched forward, leaping onto Brendan nearly knocking him to the floor.

  “Hey!” She yelled into his face.

  “Uh. Hey.” He untangled her arms from around his neck. “Geez, Miss. You smell. . .flammable.” He wrinkled his nose.

  Missy threw her head back and laughed. She nearly tumbled down the stairs but Brendan caught her by the arm.

  “Whoa. What have you been drinking?”

  “Nnnnnothing,” Missy sang.

  Amber sighed heavily. “She was like this when I got to her apartment. It took forever for us to get here. Luckily when security saw her, they let us use the back entrance. I’m trying to get her to the bathroom to sober her up.”

  “That’s a good idea. Come on, Miss.” Brendan draped Missy’s arm around his neck to support her as Amber pulled down her silver dress that was dangerously close to revealing her assets.

  “Just like old times.” Brendan sighed as he and Amber turned and began lugging a cackling Missy toward the door.

  “Dia, can you get that?” he asked.

  “Sure.” I turned and ope
ned the door, holding it as they passed.

  Missy Bolton’s presence in Lavender didn’t stay secret for long. As soon as she crossed the threshold into VIP, she pushed Brendan and Amber aside, steadied herself in her sky-high heels and turned on the Missy Bolton charm. She slurred greetings to the bartenders who refused to give her even a soda. She grinded on a very embarrassed Ali Khadair from Tri-T. Amber wrestled her away from him but not before she planted a sloppy kiss on Ali, leaving behind a red smear of lipstick on his nose and cheek. She even stopped to do a weird dance in the center of the walkway.

  “Hey, bitch!” Missy waved to those around her. “Call me.”

  I trailed behind her and Amber who tried her best to keep Missy in line and get her to the bathroom. The scene was like watching a car crash. She left the wreckage of spilled drinks and dirty looks in her wake. Missy had a reputation for showing up places and causing chaos. And now I had first-hand experience.

  “Can you help me get her in here?” Amber grunted as she pulled Missy toward the bathroom.

  “Who me?” I pointed at myself.

  “Uh. Yeah,” Amber snapped.

  “Oh. Okay.” I rushed forward and pushed as Amber pulled.

  “I’ll wait out here.” Brendan said as we dragged Missy inside the ladies room.

  “Oh my god. Is that—“

  “Yes it’s me, bitches!” Missy laugh-yelled at the pair of girls washing their hands. She kicked off her shoes. “Ah. That’s better.”

  She sighed in relief. “I’m gonna take a piss,” she said as she marched off toward a stall.

  It wasn’t long before the two girls had their smartphones out ready to capture whatever Missy was going to do next. Amber ran up to them, interceding before a pic could be snapped.

  “Hey,” she said forcing a smile. “Can you guys not do that?”

  “Do what?” The taller of the two girls batted her long lashes innocently. “I’m just trying to see if I have a signal.”

  Amber put her hands on her hips. “I’m not dumb. I know what you’re doing. Don’t take any pictures.”

  “We’re not taking pictures,” the short redhead said.

  “I can totally see you have your camera app open in the mirror.” She pointed behind them.

  “Crap,” the redhead muttered.

  “Here,” Amber huffed as she fished through her clutch. “Here’s a hundred bucks. Get out.”

  She handed a bill to each girl. They eyed the money then pocketed it and left.

  “Is anyone else in here?” Amber called.

  “Yeah. Is ennyone in here?” Missy repeated. “Because I think I have to poop.” Her laughter was cut short by a loud burp.

  “Ugh. Every time,” Amber muttered to herself as she crouched low and went down the length of the room checking for feet. She stood up and straightened out her bright blue dress. “Your name’s Dia, right?” she asked, looking at me.

  “Yes. I’m Dia. Dia Summers.”

  “Yeah. Great. Dia Summers.” Amber’s tone was dry. “Do you think you can watch the door? No one needs to come in here until Missy gets her shit together.”

  “No problem.” I gave her a quick nod and hurried over to the door just as it pushed open.

  “Hey, you can’t come in here!” I pushed it, shutting it on the girl entering.

  The girl on the other side pushed the door open a fraction. “Says who? This is my sister’s party.” Reagan Bixby’s face appeared in the crack of the door.

  I backed away from the door to allow Reagan inside. She stopped in front of me, looking me up and down.

  “Ugh. You.” She rolled her brown eyes.

  “Hi, Reagan.” I smiled, giving her a small wave.

  “Ugh.” She walked past me.

  “What’s going on in here, Rae?” Taylor peeked her head inside the room, the rest of her followed shortly after. “Ew. What’s that smell?” She pinched her nose.

  “ME!” Missy sang from her stall.

  “Is that Missy?” Reagan frowned.

  “Y-y-yes, bitch.” Missy’s hiccup echoed in the room.

  Reagan marched toward the stalls with Taylor behind her.

  “Why are you here?” she yelled with her hands on her hips. “BB took your name off the guest list weeks ago.”

  A toilet flushed. The door to Missy’s stall opened and she sashayed out.

  “Is Barbie still upset about that little thing with Paolo? I’ll tell you like I told her; I fell and his lips broke my fall. I almost DIED,” Missy slurred on her way to the sinks.

  “What a slut,” Taylor mumbled.

  “Takes one to know one. Love your new nose by the way, Taylor,” Missy smirked.

  Taylor’s hand shot up to her face, covering what I now knew to be a pretty good nose job. I could hardly tell she had work done. Unlike BB.

  Missy washed her hands, singing along loudly and off key to a song that totally wasn’t the one playing outside.

  Reagan’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I want youout.”

  “Calm down,” Missy said over her shoulder. “I’m not—I’m not gonna stay here l-l-long. Amber and I are going to hit a couple of other places. GIRLS’ NIGHT!” She threw her hands in the air, splashing water everywhere. She stumbled back a step turning away from the sinks.

  “Whoa.” She held out her hands to gain her balance.

  “Amber, can you hold this?” She untangled herself from her purse and shoved it at Amber.

  Missy’s eyes lost their drunken glaze and her brows knitted. She clutched her stomach. “I think I’m gonna be si—“ She burped up a torrent of pea-green vomit. It splashed on the floor, some of it landing on Reagan’s shoes. Reagan let out an ear-piercing screech. I watched in shock as Missy coughed up another stream of barf. Whatever she puked up this time was a dark color, almost black. Against my better judgment, I ran over to join the scene, hoping I’d be able to keep down what I’d eaten during the last week.

  Missy didn’t look so good close up. Under the lights of the bathroom, every line and wrinkle was visible beneath her shoddy makeup application. Missy looked older than nineteen. Older-than-my-mom-who-was-in-her-thirties older. It was like all the hard partying the gossip blogs liked to talk about had caught up and aged her a thousand years. Her skin had taken on a sickly gray color and appeared sticky with sweat.

  Taylor stood not far behind Reagan—who screeched a “bitch”-laden tirade at Missy—looking a bit green. She groaned and made an awful retching noise. Reagan’s rant was cut short by her bloodcurdling scream.

  Taylor covered her mouth with her hand but chunks of pink gross—the same color as the mess on Reagan’s shoulder—dripped from her chin.

  “I’m s-s-sorry, Reagan,” Taylor said hoarsely. “When I see other people puke, I puke.”

  Reagan turned on heel, shoved Taylor out of her way and fled the bathroom.

  “Rae, wait!” Taylor called, running after her friend.

  “Come on, Miss. Let’s get you to a seat and get you some water.” Amber approached Missy carefully and put her hands on her shoulders, ready to steer Missy toward the lounge area.

  Before Amber could help her side-step the first puddle of puke, Missy’s eyes crossed—rolling back in her head—and she collapsed.

  “Not again.” Amber sighed. She kneeled over Missy, calling her name and lightly slapping her face. Missy didn’t respond. Amber looked to me. “Can you help me get her over to the couch? She does this all of the time.”

  “Yeah. No problem.” I helped Amber lift Missy up and carry her over to the couch.

  “I’ll get help,” I said.

  “Thanks. I’ll stay with her to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.”

  I took off to search for help.

  “What’s going on?” Brendan leaned against the wall near the door to the ladies’ room.

  “Reagan came out covered in puke,” he smirked.

  “Missy needs help.”

  The smirk disappeared. He stood up, his eyes wide in a
larm. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. She was fine—well, not fine-fine but like Missy-fine— then she like puked everywhere and collapsed.”

  “She puked on Reagan?”

  “No, that was Taylor.”

  “Oh, gross.” He laughed.

  “Amber said Missy passes out often but I’m gonna get some help.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Brendan said, taking my hand.

  I felt another small jolt of electricity. It wasn’t static shock. It took a lot of willpower but I managed to keep the goofy, I-have-a-crush grin off my face as we made our way to the stairs. We ran down the stairs and burst through the door, interrupting an angry conversation (if you could call it that) between Reagan and one of the club’s security guards.

  “I want Missy Bolton out of here!” she screamed at a man that was twice her size in both height and width. A small crowd gathered around them. The guy did an excellent job maintaining a blank expression while Reagan called him every name under the sun.

  Seeing how upset Reagan was made me a little afraid of trying to get the security guard’s attention. But Brendan wasn’t as intimidated. He marched right on up to them, dragging me along. Reagan stopped, setting her eyes on me. I dropped Brendan’s hand immediately. The way Reagan glared at me, I felt the need to check myself for flames. Her face turned red and she let out an animal-like shriek.

  Dia was totally dead.

  I put aside my worries about my future in acting and tapped the security guard.

  “Excuse me, sir. We need your help upstairs,” I said timidly.

  “Go help the trainwreck upstairs and when you’re done, toss her out. Along with her friend. The girl in the stupid pink dress. You’ll know her when you see her.” Reagan sneered and stomped off.

  Brendan and I followed security back upstairs. I went into the ladies’ room. A chair in the lounge was overturned, paper towels and trash were everywhere, and there was no sign of Missy and Amber. I heard a scream and followed it into the bathroom proper and walked in on a pretty one-sided fight. Missy had come-to and had Amber cornered between the wall and the sinks. She clawed at Amber, shouting things that weren’t words, just sounds.

  I ran over to them and wrestled Missy away from Amber, trying to pin her arms down as I pulled her away. She growled and struggled against my hold but I was able to get her over to the door.