by Amo Jones
I’m obviously a little buzzed, because my train of thought is heading into the emotional tunnel, and I need to derail that right now. Swallowing, I nod. “I’d love to take you! Get changed and drink!”
She laughs, pulling out a long-sleeved short dress that looks tight. She hitches her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll slip into the bathroom.”
Modest... far more modest than I’m being right now, which, now that I think about it, is a lot worse. At my revelation, I place the bottle of Moet down on my bedside table and turn to face her. “Of course.” Sober up right now, Madi, or you’ll be joining Tatum facedown before 9:00 p.m.
I spin back around to face my closet when I catch Tatum looking at the closed door. “Why would she be shy around us?” she whispers.
“Shh!” I bring my finger up to my mouth. “Maybe,” I say, scolding her and pulling my new—or Tatum’s—choice of dress off the rack, “because she’s been around us for all of five minutes.”
Tatum narrows her eyes. “Hmmm, maybe.”
“Stop!” I point my finger against the tip of her nose. “Don’t dig or anything. Just leave it.” Shit. I’m a little buzzed. “What the hell is in that wine, anyway?”
“Uhh, wine? Wine is what’s in that wine, and not the cheap kind. Live and learn, my love.” She steps into her dress, every inch of the sequined material pushing against her tiny frame. “Do me up!” I zip her up and she turns. “How do I look?”
“Holy shit, you look incredible!” Tillie says, walking out of the bathroom.
I halt, scanning her curvy frame filling her tiny little dress. “So do you!” I point. “You two are going to make me look like the ugly stepsister.” Tatum looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and Tillie scrunches up her face. “Better continue my drinking,” I half joke under my breath.
I don’t have that high of a self-esteem, but that came from years and years of just never fitting in. All the pretty girls hang together; they all gravitate toward each other and all feed off each other’s beauty and what not, but that’s never been me. I’ve always been the tomboy loner who likes to shoot guns and wear Keds or Chucks. Tatum? She’s a heels-and-diamonds kind of girl—always looks stunning—and has the kind of confidence that could only come from being told “you’re the shit” for most of your life. Tillie, on the other hand, I’m still trying to work out. She has this retro hippie feel about her, what with her pastel pink hair and earthy, naturally beautiful, in-line-with-the-universe thing going on, if that even makes sense—which I’m sure it doesn’t, because fucking wine.
Jesus, I need to pull my shit together. Deep breathing, in and out. But every intake of breath I take, I get hit with a rich tang on the back of my throat from the after taste of the expensive alcohol.
“Hello?” Tatum waves her hands in front of my face. “Earth to Madi, get changed!”
“Shit.” I snap out of my lingering thoughts of self-pity and tipsy ramblings. “I’ll get changed. Fire up the curlers.” I slip into my closet, unclip my current bra, and snap on a strapless. When I step back out, I say, “Tatum, did I tell you how much I hate you for choosing this dress? I don’t do dresses.”
“Good thing I gave you wine beforehand then.” She winks, curling her hair, as Tillie leans over the sink in the bathroom, doing her makeup.
“This was your plan?” I look at her with fresh eyes. She’s sneakier than I ever imagined.
Tatum taps her head. “You’ll never know.”
Hmm, sure I won’t.
“So,” Tillie says from the bathroom, “I’ve never been to an elite party before.”
I halt, dress clutched in my hand. “What?” I ask lightly.
“You know,” Tillie lines her eyes with black, “an elite party.”
“You mean figuratively?”
Tatum rolls her eyes, letting her long, blonde fresh curls drop over her slender shoulders. “No. She means Elite, Madi. We’ve had this discussion.”
“Wait, how do you even know about that?” I look back toward Tillie.
She stops what she’s doing. “We’ve all heard of them, Madi. I didn’t realize your stepbrother was Nate Riverside, though.”
“Are you judging me?”
She stops and spins to face me, horror flashing over her freshly marked face. “God, no, Madi. No. I was just surprised when I pulled up here. That’s all.”
I nod, turning back to hold my dress. If Nate and his boys cost me a friendship, I’ll have to kill him for real. I have a hard enough time making friends—not that I actually care—but I happen to like Tillie, so I don’t want to lose her friendship. “By the way, whatever you heard about them, it’s not true.”
“Is so.”
“Tatum, shut up.” I look back to Tillie with a smile. “It’s really not. They’re not all that interesting.” I don’t know why I feel the need to protect whatever the fuck I’m protecting, but I’ll blame it on the wine again.
Tillie shrugs. “I don’t know much, only rumors, and of course, Bishop Hayes used to date a girl from my school.” My heartbeat slows, thickening my blood. “And everyone knows who The Elite Kings are. Also,” she adds casually, “Nate and Cash are always at Backyard Bucks, and as usual,” she says casually, lining her lips, “Bishop is always ripping through the streets.”
“What, what, and what?” I ask, stepping closer to her and shimmying into the tight red strapless dress. It’s thin, snug, and has a deep dip over my sternum, showcasing my cleavage.
“You know, Backyard Bucks Octagon, and Bishop, racing?” She looks at me, waiting for me to catch on.
Tatum looks at me sideways. “She’s new. She’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sorry.” I clear my throat, signaling for Tatum to zip up my back. “Did I get this right? Nate in an octagon, and Bishop races what? Cars?”
Tatum starts applying makeup and acting like she isn’t inhaling all the drama and new information. I know this is news to her too, because her mouth is shut and she has her ears tuned in to our convo.
“The races,” Tillie says ashamedly, almost like she thinks she’s not allowed to put her foot in it. Tatum starts applying makeup to my face and fluffing up my natural waves. “I assumed you knew, because, well....” She gestures around the place. “I only know because my sister occasionally sleeps with Jase, Hunter’s older brother. I heard them talking about it, so I snuck out and followed them one day.”
My breathing slows, the information sinking into me. I whack Tatum’s hands away from my face. What the fuck is with these boys?
“Because otherwise, that’s super confidential information. I don’t even know why Jase would’ve told my stupid sister, and please forget I ever told you.”
Tatum holds up a pair of hoop earrings in front of my face. “Earrings?”
My face falls in a death glare. “Hold them.” I get to my feet and storm out my bedroom door. I don’t care that my makeup is only half done and my hair is in a thick mane of soft waves down my back, or that I have no shoes on. This is my fucking house anyway. I fly down the stairs, the deep, slow, dark bass of “Devil’s Night” by D12 already shaking the chandelier that hangs in the foyer. I round the corner to the living room, so fucking angry I want to hit something, preferably all of them, until they tell me what the fuck is going on.
I halt at the opening. They are all lounging around already, with Ally and Lauren stretched over their laps—or should I say, Ally stretched out over Bishop’s lap. Awesome. I needed to hit Tatum for saying he isn’t a manwhore and that he is fussy. Lies. No fussy man would have that dirty slut stretched out across his lap.
Okay, angry Madi is about to rear her ugly head. Maybe another glass? Or bottle... because you’re classy like that. Nate is stretched out, with a bong in one hand and a cigarette in the other, grinning at me. Looking beside him, Hunter’s chopping up white powder on the coffee table and rolling up a hundred-dollar bill. I shiver, not wanting to touch that subject right now.
Bringing my eyes back to Bishop, I s
ee Ally purr against his chest. “Why’s she coming?”
Bishop’s jaw clenches, his eyes staying on mine as he strokes Ally’s hair. He wraps her long mane around his fist, yanking her head up to face him, all while his eyes remain on mine. Locked, entranced, and fucking hypnotic.
He slowly drawls his tongue out and licks her across her bottom lip. “I don’t know, babe. Maybe you should ask Nate why his annoying little sister is coming tonight with her annoying little friends.” He sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, catching it between his teeth, before pulling back roughly. She moans shamelessly—fuck everyone else in the room.
Heat mixed with anger pulses through me. Calm breathing, Madi. Fuck him.
I look to Ally, a grin slithering onto my mouth. “Oh now, now,” I tsk, my poker face game strong. “Don’t act like his kisses are that good.” I roll my eyes with a smirk, narrowing them onto Bishop and cocking my head. “He tastes like washed up whores strung out on crack.” Then I look to Ally. “But I guess, now that I know who he has been kissing”—my smirk deepens—“it actually makes sense.”
“You bi—”
She goes to launch off the couch when a laugh erupts out of me. Nate snatches her arm, shoving her back onto Bishop’s lap. Bishop, who has hunger and hate mixed in his eyes, watches me carefully. I smirk at him, chuckling devilishly. If he thinks I’ll lay back and let him make a fool out of me with his little toy, he’s mistaken. I’ve spent most of my life being made a fool of, and I’ve come to realize, as of recently, I don’t much like feeling that way. Of course, this is because wine.
“You!” Nate points to me. “Need to change. You cannot dress like that here tonight.”
“He’s right.” Cash nods. Cash never says much of anything, so him even adding his two cents is odd.
“First of all, fuckers, I’m not changing. Do you know how long it took to get into this dress?” I ask sweetly, a smile still on my face. “I mean, one can only hope that, whoever the lucky guy is that I find myself with tonight, he finds it easier to take it off than I did putting it on.”
“Shut up. Get changed.” Nate points toward the stairs.
“No,” I hiss, offended and looking him up and down.
“Jesus,” Brantley scoffs. “She’s already buzzed.”
Ally laughs, wrapping Bishop’s hands around her waist as she wiggles on his lap. “Oh, this is comical.”
I flip them both off. “Not as funny as your breath, which tastes like ass, by the way.”
“Oh?” she asks, laughing and getting ready to shame me in front of everyone. Someone like Ally Parker doesn’t go down without a fight. “And you know what ass tastes like?” She and Lauren smirk at each other in triumph.
“Of course I do,” I say stiffly. “I’ve had my lips wrapped around Bishop’s tongue.”
Their laughing instantly stops, and she goes to launch off the couch again, but this time it’s Bishop who halts her movements.
“That was the last time you threaten me, in my fucking house too, by the way,” I say snidely, my shoulders squaring. Fuck her, and fuck these boys.
I turn around, forgetting why I even came down to see them.
“Oh, sis, come on,” Nate moans behind me. I flip him off and run up the stairs to continue getting changed.
New goals: look hot as fuck tonight, get drunk, and hopefully find someone to rub my ass against.
“JESUS.” I GLANCE AT THE stranger in the mirror. “That’s me?” I smirk, brushing myself off.
Tatum and Tillie burst out laughing, both of them nice and tipsy, and me a little bit past tipsy, but still sober enough to walk, talk, and act straight. I’m in that zone where everything is warm, when your blood is pumping, and you just know that tonight is going to be a good night. I can feel it in my bones and in my blood.
I touch my nude lips. “Damn. I look decent.”
“Decent?” Tatum mocks, offended. “Oh, honey, I don’t create decent. I create ‘daaaymn,’” she mocks Smokey and Ice Cube’s voices from the movie Friday.
I burst out laughing. Tatum did fucking good. My brunette hair is dead straight, hanging to my tailbone, my eyes smoked out in black, and my skin dusted in golden bronzer. My cheeks are brushed with peach blush, and my dress has been replaced with a more revealing one. Yup, I ditched the modest tight red dress, which Nate already tried to tell me to change out of, and replaced it with a thin spaghetti strap nude leather-like dress. It clings to my body like a second skin, accentuating my narrow waist and how my hips flare out slightly. It also showcases my bubble butt and D-sized breasts, both of which I always attempt to hide.
Not tonight though. Oh no.
I’ve always been self-conscious of my body. Because I don’t have that nice small butt or the perky small boobs that just sit there and look perfect. I’m not big. I’m actually petite, but my curves are most definitely not. The dress shows most of my boobs and a whole lot of my figure. I’ve done a good job at hiding it—up until now. Ally got to me. Bishop got to me. They all got to me. Now I’m out to fuck them all over, in a small package of a dress.
“Wear the heels.” Tatum throws the black pumps at me.
“I really don’t wanna.”
“I don’t care.” She giggles, taking another drink.
The party downstairs is obviously in full swing, what with the loud pumping music, glasses clinking, and the roar of laughter. The squeals of annoying fucking drunk girls—you’re a drunk girl right now—and the coming and leaving of headlights lighting up my dim bedroom further proves that tonight is going to be a messy night. We spent most of the night up here getting drunk and ready, and it was nice. I feel like I’ve known both Tillie and Tatum all my life, almost like we’re all soul mates but the friend kind. Or maybe girls are supposed to find their soul mates in their friends, and guys are just there for the D.
After I relayed everything that happened in the living room back to the girls, we all decided to switch up my outfit and go a little over the top—which is why I am looking like I am right now.
“Are we ready, girls?” Tillie wiggles her eyebrows from the doorway.
“Wait, wait!” Tatum stops. “Are we getting ass tonight?”
I laugh. “I hope so.”
They both look at me. “Are you a virgin?”
“What?” I’m just about to give them a small fib when I decide I don’t need to lie to these girls. They’re my friends, real ones. “No.” My laughing turns serious. “I’m not kidding. I’m not a virgin. But I’d rather not go there right now.” I pause, looking back to them. “Are either of you?”
Tatum nods.
“No way!” I breathe, but then feel instantly bad that I assumed she wasn’t. “Sorry.”
She shakes her head. “It’s fine. Most people think I’m a slut.”
“We can talk about this later,” I say to her. That wasn’t a question; it was a promise. I look to Tillie. “What about you?”
She shakes her head. “No.” Then she adds, “Far from it.”
“Oh?” I smile at her. “Like that, huh?”
“Oh, I’m all about women’s sexuality. We have every right to enjoy it just like guys do.”
I hold my fist out to her. “Word!”
We fist-bump, and then Tatum looks at us. “I feel left out. New plan: Get Tatum laid.”
We all laugh, and Tillie swings the door open all the way, letting the bass stream through loudly. There is no one upstairs, which is a relief, but I gather that no one would step up to Nate and the boys by trying to cross them and invading our personal space. No one but me, because fuck them, basically.
We walk down the stairs, laughing and clutching a bottle of champagne each. I’m still not too hot on these heels, but hey, I can blame wine if I fall on my face. Yin Yang Twins’ “Shake” starts playing through the beefy speakers, and Tatum starts dancing and hopping down the stairs, our hair flying around the place. Yup, we are all very much drunk. Dragging us to the living room, where bodies are crushing again
st each other to the music, we ignore all the staring eyes glued on us as we continue dancing around, blocking everyone out.
I laugh, twisting in Tillie’s grasp. When my eyes land on the boys, who are standing on the other side of the room, I drop down to the floor and grin at them before snaking back up, pressing my butt into Tillie. Not all of them are here, but Nate, Bishop, Brantley, Ace, and Saint are. Ally and Lauren are way past drunk, falling all over the place and rubbing up on each other. A giggle escapes me as my head swings back. They probably think they look sensual. Yeah, if sensual was two drowned raccoons who look like they just got smashed seven ways from Sunday with Charlie Sheen.
Bishop’s eyes slowly lick all over my body, his lip twitching at the corner of his mouth. Psh, yeah right. I look to Nate, who’s already storming up to me, his face red and angry, followed closely by the rest of them.
“Get. Fucking. Changed, Madi. Tonight is not the night to be dressed and acting like this.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I smirk, turning around and dancing against his chest, my ass pressing into him. Gag. “You’re mistaking me for someone who gives a fuck.”
“Tillie!” Saint snaps at my friend.
“Hey!” I click my fingers in his face, stepping between the two of them and narrowing my eyes. “Leave her alone, bud.”
He grins, finding me amusing. “Step away, kitty. You already know we don’t play fair.”
“Oh,” I say, matching his fight, “neither do I. You boys just caught me off guard that night.”
I look to all of them. “Now, if you don’t mind, you’re kind of cock blocking us.” Then I take the girls’ hands and walk them outside to where the music is pouring out, and the moon is shining over the bright fairy lights, the colored neons inside the pool, and all the half-naked drunk teens walking around.
I tip my head back, swallowing more wine. “That was fucking awesome.”
A young guy is tilted over one of the lawn chairs, his bottle of tequila hanging between his fingers loosely. Tillie walks up to him, snatching the bottle quickly, and then comes back to us. “Time to really get shit started.”