Not the Girls You're Looking For

by Aminah Mae Safi

  Alone, Lulu pressed forward into the open floor space. She scanned the darkened dance floor, none of her friends in sight. As she turned, she saw Dane Anderson holding two open beers and smiling with delightful malice.

  “Look who it is.” He flexed slightly as she eyed the drinks. “I didn’t know they let you out unsupervised on school nights.”

  “I didn’t know they let seventeen-year-olds drink in clubs.” Lulu gave a mean, flirtatious grin. Mostly to keep from staring at his now-taut arms.

  “Fun fact: they do let twenty-two-year-olds drink.” A smug satisfaction coated Dane’s face. He reached out and draped his arm around her.

  “God, Anderson, you’re going to spill beer on me. What?” His name rolled off her tongue like one of her favorite swear words. Lulu crossed her arms in defiance. She made no move to shove him off, as that seemed to be the object of his taunting. Instead she stood there, feeling the pressure of his frame against her body.

  “What do you mean, what?” He slung her closer, sloshing some beer onto her shoulder.

  “I mean what.”

  A few people glanced over now. Lulu couldn’t recognize them in the obscured lighting, but she felt watched. Lulu ran her hands through her hair, attempting to smooth any flyaways.

  “Do you?” Dane had a grin that rewrote reality.

  Lulu leaned in, like she was only going to smell the fresh-baked pie but not eat it. There it was—that gin and peppermint again. She caught the faint scent of smoke. “I do.”

  “Damn, Lulu. You look good tonight.”

  Lulu stiffened. She forced herself to lean away from the almost certain peril. “Do I? I hadn’t noticed. Your observations are necessary and appreciated as always.”

  “Christ, are you on your period?” Dane rolled his eyes, and his beautiful face contorted into an ironic sneer. In a just world, he would have looked uglier.

  Lulu remembered afresh why she had put up a wall of defense between herself and this boy, all those years ago. Her body often forgot, but her mind wouldn’t. “No, are you?”

  Dane clutched Lulu closer, crunching Lulu’s shoulders as more beer dribbled down her arm. “Great. Then we’re good to go.”

  Lulu grabbed his shirt where the lapels of his coat ought to have been. She could feel his chest underneath her knuckles. She watched the confusion cross his face, which nearly brought on a smile that would have spoiled the entire affectation. For added drama, she put a swooning hand across her forehead. “How did you know? I can’t live without you. Take me now.”

  She bowed backward, across his still-outstretched arm, in a posed faint. For a moment, Dane Anderson stayed impossibly still.

  Lulu popped upright, laughing. “Get over yourself, Anderson.”

  “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? I’ll bet you think you’re special, huh?” There was an edge to Dane’s voice. A tension Lulu couldn’t quite read. His eyes narrowed, the unnatural lighting catching his too-long lashes in their blue tint. His looks and his power would ruin him, if they hadn’t already.

  He was a boy made to be conquered, maybe even saved. But not by Lulu. She was neither a knight nor a Nightingale. She was a girl made to be selfish. She would have her own adventures. “Don’t worry, I don’t think I’m special. But I’m not stupid, either. I know what you try.”

  “Honey,” he said, “if I’d ever tried with you—”

  Lulu placed the tips of her fingers across his pouting lips, staying their movement. So soft, and yet so pliant to such meanness. She removed her hand quickly. “Do yourself a favor. Don’t finish that.”

  Lulu made a move to swing out from under his arm, but he leaned in close to whisper into her ear, blocking her face from view. “Oh, Lulu. Innocent little Lulu. I don’t need to finish it. I can tell. You’ve got the imagination to fill it in perfectly.” He touched her temples.

  Lulu stood so still she thought her pulse paused along with her. “You’re a douche, Dane.” She pushed out from under him, but she needn’t have. He released her immediately, making Lulu wonder if he’d been holding on all that tightly to begin with.

  * * *

  Emma stood close to the stage, like this was a garden party and she could reserve a nice seat for herself. Emma was an inherently endearing sort. She and Lulu had been friends since freshman year, but they’d known each other since they were eleven. It had taken Emma three years to be pulled into Lulu’s orbit. And even then it was only a mutual newspaper assignment where Emma had been the photographer. That they were an odd pair of friends made their bond inevitable, like a milkshake with french fries.

  Emma tilted her head as Lulu approached. “Was Dane bothering you?”

  Lulu snorted. “Man, you are such a shutterbug. You miss nothing, do you?”

  Emma touched the camera around her neck as though to double-check she still had it. She had agreed to take photos for the article Lulu was now writing. “That’s not an answer.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Lulu. “I can handle Anderson.”

  Emma frowned. “Nobody should have to handle him.”

  “True,” said Lulu. “But forget him. Because you, oh wondrous photographer and friend of mine, you staked out a fantastic spot.”

  “Thanks!” Emma’s responding smile beamed with pride. Emma didn’t crave approval, but she thrived under its care.

  “But you do know the stage is that way.” Lulu pointed behind them. She waited to see what Emma would do next.

  “Obviously.” Emma shrugged with such a forced nonchalance that Lulu had to swallow her laugh in a cough.

  “Whatcha been looking at?” Lulu batted her eyelashes and offered a charming grin.

  “Nothing,” said Emma, far too quickly. She was hiding something.

  Lulu looked around, trying to find the source of Emma’s interest. “Not the stage, that’s for sure.”

  “No.” Emma squirmed slightly—clearly desperate not to be caught. “But why would I look at the stage when there’s nothing on it?”

  Lulu scanned the crowd and stroked her chin with her thumb, like a pensive villain. “Hmmmm, let’s see. I spy, with my little eye…”

  “No! Don’t!” Emma yanked Lulu’s hand off her chin. The camera jostled.

  Lulu couldn’t contain the laugh she’d trapped in the back of her throat any longer. “Please, let me have a little fun.”

  “Is that all you care about?” A worried edge crept into Emma’s voice.

  “What’s wrong with having fun?”

  Emma paused, her mouth twisting to the side of her face. That was how Emma planned her carefully chosen words.

  If that wasn’t a case in point, Lulu didn’t know what was. “See, you can’t think of anything, can you?”

  “Please,” said Emma in her quiet, resonant way.

  Lulu opened her mouth, but the next words were not her own.

  “Lo. Lo Campo. Stop this instant. You are all of fifteen seconds away from dislocating my shoulder.” Audrey skidded to a halt beside Lo. She nearly tackled Lulu in the process.

  Lo let go of Audrey. She held a drink in her hand, and her eyes flitted between Lulu and Emma, but Lo said nothing on the subject.

  Audrey rubbed her shoulder, her jaw set into a hard line. “Much appreciated.”

  Lo rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re such a baby.”

  “You are stronger than you think,” said Emma, in a calming tone.

  “True,” said Lo. “There’s Nina; I’m going to say hi.”

  And Lo was off again, away from the stage. Lulu turned her head to follow Lo’s movements, and she discovered Emma’s direct line of vision. The plot thickened. Brian Connor stood beside a fresh-faced freshman girl, whose name Lulu couldn’t quite remember but who always wore her hair with a thick fringe. The one who’d fallen by their table that week, thanks to Lo’s chair tilting.

  The only two things anyone needed to know about Brian Connor were that he liked fast cars and smoking weed. No wonder straitlaced Emma was em
barrassed. Plus she knew Lulu had recently made out with him in a hall closet, and Emma was an entirely honorable sort. He was an unusual target for Emma’s lust, but maybe she liked boys who talked a big talk about engines. It’s not like Lulu had been able to pin down Emma’s interests definitively before.

  Then Lulu was granted the pleasure of spying Dane Anderson as he pulled that heavily fringed freshman away from Brian. Anderson employed his signature move, a casual low-slung arm around the waist. The poor girl had no idea what was about to hit on her.

  “Why are you frowning?” asked Audrey, interrupting Lulu’s thoughts.

  “I’m not frowning.” Lulu rearranged her face into a smile.

  “Yes, you were. You were frowning. And looking that way. Y’all both were, actually.” Audrey pointed her arm toward Dane in a manner so unsubtle, it was practically a wave.

  Emma turned abruptly, her eyes wide.

  Lulu cringed. She had come to expect a lack of discretion from her friend when alcohol was involved, but every once in a while, Audrey could still surprise her. “You maniac. You nearly took Emma’s eye out with your arm.”

  Emma shook her head. “It’s all right. I’m all right.”

  Lulu put her hand on her hip. “No, it’s not. Audrey Louise, aren’t you going to apologize?”

  Audrey, however, had stopped in her spot, staring. She sighed a great sigh. “Scumbag Luke. He’s here.”

  “No,” said Emma at the same time Lulu said, “Where?”

  “There.” Audrey pointed, with no more diplomacy than before. But Lulu wasn’t fazed in the slightest by the rudeness this time. Nor was Emma. They both stared openly.

  Lulu turned to watch Lo, who had found Nina in the crowd. Nina wasn’t by her boyfriend, and Lulu had a sense of why she had been crying in the bathroom hallway earlier. Every moment or two, Lo’s eyes casually flickered over to where Luke stood. Lo was slowly herding her group toward him.

  “Shit,” said Lulu.

  “Agreed,” said Emma.

  There were only three things that anyone needed to know about Luke Westin. The first was that he had the kind of hair a girl would want to run her fingers through—soft and thick and perfect. The second was that he played shortstop for the public school down the road. And the third was that he was the kind of guy who confirmed every stereotype about Texas that Lulu had spent her whole life struggling against. For the first two, Lulu could understand how Lo might find him interesting. But for the last one, Lulu went over and grabbed Lo’s arm in a vise grip and pulled her aside.

  “Lulu. What are you doing.” Lo had a calmness about her, like she was trying to stop Lulu from behaving stupidly, rather than the other way around.

  “Come on,” said Lulu. “Don’t go over there.”

  “Over where?” asked Lo.

  “Don’t play dumb with me.” Lulu nodded toward Luke.

  Lo leaned into Lulu’s space, speaking so only they two could hear. “I’m only gonna say this once. I don’t tell you whose mouth to stick your tongue in. So don’t tell me what to do with mine.”

  “But he’s so—”

  “I know.” There was a certainty in Lo’s eyes that Lulu couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she might have wanted to do so.

  No matter how many times Lulu reminded her friend that Luke had a girlfriend. That Luke was the worst sort of boy. That he was Scumbag Luke. It never sank in. Or, worse, it did sink in and Lo simply didn’t care. Lo was drawn to the darkness like a bad after-school special.

  “Doesn’t it bother you?” Lulu could have been referring to anything—the awful things that came out of Luke’s mouth, that he dated while dating, that he rarely acknowledged Lo in public unless he was drunk. Lo shrugged as her answer.

  “I mean, you don’t have to prove anything,” said Lulu.

  “Maybe I do have to. Nobody else is going to climb the social pecking order among the four of us. You don’t. Emma won’t. Audrey can’t,” said Lo. “Or, maybe I get my kicks knowing Luke doesn’t want to want me but I can still make him anyways. I get to watch his hate fight with his lust.”

  Lulu didn’t like it, even if Lo could take care of herself. “I’m not sure which is worse: your cynicism or mine. I could never date someone only to make them want me. I’d rather be alone.”

  Lulu laughed as Lo raised an eyebrow. “Which is why I make out with them all and wind up abandoned in upstairs closets. It’s a romantic life, but somebody’s got to live it.”

  Lo raised her glass. “To the romantic life.” She downed the rest of her drink in a gulp and tossed the cup to the floor. A magnificent departure, if ever Lulu had seen one. She catalogued it in her memory as an excellent maneuver of both power and style, though Lulu would cut off all her own hair before she’d admit that to Lo.

  * * *

  Lulu loved to dance. While the beat of the band thrummed in the background, she could be free. And if she could only hear music in her head, she didn’t feel afraid of making a fool of herself, either. She wasn’t a particularly talented dancer. But neither was she in any way lacking. She loved the thoughtlessness of her body under the sway of a song. The feeling was sensual and ridiculous, frivolous and powerful, and she flourished in such soil.

  Emma would stand off to the side, overly aware of her body and swaying lightly. Poor Emma. She’d start taking pictures soon to avoid any further obligation to the dance floor. What Audrey lacked in fluidity, she made up for in sheer effort. Lulu loved the energy behind Audrey’s stilted labors. Lo was the true dancer. She ought to have been there in their circle to put them all to shame. But Lo wasn’t with them right now. She was off with Luke. The other three girls were left to their own devices. Sweat stuck Lulu’s shirt to her back and matted down bits of her hair. She lifted her elbows, trying to circulate air under her armpits, but to no avail. She pulled at her shirt, but that only further suctioned fabric to the sweat down her spine.

  “Water?” Lulu’s voice carried barely beyond a murmur, though she shouted. Audrey shook her head no. Emma, who was now taking photos, also declined. Alone, Lulu pushed her way through the undulating crowd. She approached the bar and received a skeptical appraisal by the bartender.

  Lulu put her to rights quickly. “Water, please!”

  The bartender nodded. Lulu bobbed her head and thrummed her fingers against the bar as she waited. Lulu looked over. She saw a lanky, boyish figure across the way. And while Lulu often appreciated a tall, lean body and a head of tousled hair, there was something else about this one in particular. Something familiar. Something, somehow known. She couldn’t quite place why. Then the boy turned and met her gaze.

  Hell and damnation.

  The last time she had seen him, she had been screaming and drenched in pool water. It was James the Falsifier. The instinct to turn and run flooded through Lulu, but she wasn’t a coward. She’d face him again. Even if she didn’t want to. Besides, it wasn’t like she had been honestly staring at him. Not staring, staring. Not that she was going to explain that to him. But he was moving rapidly toward her, and explanations were becoming unavoidable. Lulu looked at the bar, hoping her drink was ready. But the bartender was nowhere in sight. She’d been forgotten. She’d have to handle this all on her own.

  “If it isn’t Cinderella.” James smiled as he reached her.

  “Cinderella’s a blonde. She also lost a shoe. I would never lose a shoe.” Lulu couldn’t let him go unpunished. “And besides, Ariel was the one who saved a drowning fool.”

  James’s teeth looked stuck in their too-bright smile. “I meant. I mean. You ran off. At midnight. It was a metaphor.”

  “It was eleven.”

  James’s smile fell. He stared, with his big, brown eyes. Doe-like. And before she could regret it, or even think the better of it, Lulu said, “I’m writing an article.”

  “About youth culture?” He smiled again, like he’d told a funny joke. Like he was someone who didn’t give up hope. James reminded Lulu of things best forgotten, of the c
ost of survival and the price of high living.

  Lulu had paid the price by trading in her tongue. Lo had cut out her heart. Audrey, who had been born into this world, had no ability to see beyond its borders. Emma alone seemed untouched by any kind of deal with the devil. But Lulu didn’t believe that to be true. Nobody could go without paying the price. The prize of being accepted into the fold of the one-day rich and powerful was too tempting, too all-encompassing. Emma’s bargain must have been the worst of all to stay so neat and invisible.

  “No. I’m reviewing the band.”

  The bartender caught Lulu’s gaze then, perhaps sensing the tension radiating off her body. She nodded, like that was reassuring. Lulu sighed, though the noise was lost in the ambient sounds of the venue.

  “How do you like the band?” James asked.

  It was a taunt. Lulu had been taunted well enough by her older brothers to know one immediately. She didn’t need to prove she knew the band’s name. This was her scene, and not his. “I’ve always liked the band.”

  “Why’d you bother to come, then?” He tilted his head, and a bit of his hair sagged into his eye. He pushed the unruly lock back. “I mean, if you’ll like the show regardless, why review it?”

  With that, Lulu found her venom. “Because I’m good at my job. That’s why they gave me the assignment. I’m not sure where you got the idea I’m rainbows and sunshine but I’m not some magical fucking princess who can’t form a serious opinion just because I’m having a good time. I know the difference between fun and good.”

  The air between them shifted. The lingering tension that had been there was now sharper, a live wire. The fin in the water belonged to a circling shark.

  “What’s your favorite band?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.