She threw her head back and laughed. “Welcome to The Guys Next Door,” she said. “Where for one night a woman’s fantasy becomes a reality.”
“So, how was your day yesterday? You know, after you left Jesse and me sitting in the cafeteria by ourselves after I tried to be your friend and everything. No big deal, though, I’m over it.”
It was much too cold outside to be so hyper, but Emma had done it. She was skipping across the damp grass—yes, skipping—as we walked to our history class the next day. She was not only skipping, but she was also skipping circles—around me.
“Will you be quiet?” I snapped. I could already feel a headache coming on, most likely the aftermath of the late night I’d spent at the club. “And why do you care what I did yesterday, anyway?”
“Because we’re friends,” Emma said. “That’s what friends do. Now don’t be such a bitch.” I had to hand it to her: I’d met my match. “You should spend the night at my place tonight,” she said. I looked sideways at her, surprised at the random invite.
Back in Michigan, kids weren’t so quick to include others in their plans.
“You’ve known me for like—a day,” I said. “How can you tell I’m not some psycho?”
“All the best ones are,” she crooned. She raised a brow at me. “Come to my house tonight. Would your aunt be okay with it?”
“Audrey is fine with everything,” I told her. “But I’ll double check this afternoon when she picks Noah up.”
“So that’s a yes?” She sounded thrilled, so I nodded. It was too late to turn back now. I didn’t want her crying on my shoulder or anything. “Good,” she said. “Because I got these.” She dug into her front pocket and whipped out two small cards, waving them in front of my face. “If anyone asks, you’re now Franny Smith from Ohio.”
“Franny?” I said. “That’s the best you could come up with?” I stared at the fake ID in my hand, feeling simultaneously terrified and thrilled. “It is impressive, though,” I admitted. “Is that my middle school picture? How did you find that?”
“Olivia, can you just trust me? My God, you’re impossible.” Emma’s tone was snippy, and yet I heard a tiny bit of bitterness. The girl needed a friend, and all I had done so far was push her away and focus on myself. Part of me knew the truth, but it was hard to admit. I needed a friend as much as Emma did. Since moving away from my home, I hadn’t even heard from my high school friends back in Michigan. It was as though I had fallen off the face of the earth, or never even existed to begin with. Not having access to a cell phone didn’t help, especially when the home phone Audrey used wasn’t hooked up to an answering machine. Most incoming calls were merely lost to an empty house.
“I live with my aunt for a reason that I don’t like to talk about,” I told Emma as we walked. I knew it was time. She had tried to befriend me, so the least I could do was tell her the story. “Audrey Bell was my Dad’s little sister. She’s now a guardian for my brother and me. About a month and a half ago, my parents died in a car accident. We had nowhere else to go.”
Emma didn’t hesitate. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “We have Audrey. She’s a fun person. I guess I wasn’t expecting that.” Emma stopped then, as if realizing something.
“Wait,” she said. “Did you say Audrey Bell? As in, owner of the hottest club in the city, Audrey Bell?”
“Um. Yes.” I furrowed my brow. “Wait a second, how do you know about the club? You’re only seventeen.”
“Honey,” Emma said, as if speaking to a small child. “Yet again, you underestimate the awesomeness that is me.” We walked again, but now Emma was too riled up to keep quiet. “Audrey Bell is awesome,” she gushed. “Her club is the coolest spot in town. And those dancers? Orgasmic.”
“Orgasmic?” I repeated. “Have you ever even had an orgasm?”
“No,” she admitted. “But it sounds pretty great.”
“Audrey is pretty cool,” I admitted, remembering the show I had seen the night before.
“She owns a strip club. Of course, she is.”
“It’s not a strip club,” I said. “It’s an all-male dance club.” Content with that answer, Emma flung her arm over my shoulder.
“You’re screwed up,” she said. “Me too. We can be friends.”
It was dry outside when school ended that day, but the sky was dark, threatening a storm. Emma and I walked toward the parking lot to wait for Audrey so I could get permission to come over. Her geeky, Star Wars friend Jesse waited with us. Noah was already there sitting by himself on the curb. He had his headphones in and was bobbing his head to the music, ignoring the world around him. It was loud enough I could hear it but asking him to turn it down had always been unsuccessful, and I wasn’t in the mood to fight with him.
“Is that your brother?” Jesse asked. “He looks like you.”
“Yeah. He’s been a punk lately, though.”
“Hey, kid,” said Emma. Noah glanced over at us with a bored expression and then turned away, showing his obvious disinterest. I watched as Emma, not content with that greeting, reached down and pulled the headphones right off him. She let them drop to the pavement by his side, placing the toe of her shoe on top, pinning the device beneath it. Noah bolted to his feet, looking pissed. I stepped back, but Emma stood her ground.
“What in the hell was that for?” he shouted.
“I know you have better manners than that,” Emma said. “I’m a total stranger, and you blew me off.” She stuck out her hand and smiled at him. “I’m Olivia’s friend Emma. It’s nice to meet you.” He would not take her hand, but I was surprised when he did, though grudgingly. We took a seat next to him on the curb as we waited, chatting about the day. Jesse was in the middle of trying to explain who Joss Whedon was when a fifth person approached us from behind.
“Excuse me?” said a male voice.
Emma, Jesse, and I turned to look.
Standing behind us was a guy I recognized as not only the server at the burger joint but also the cute guy in the lunchroom from the day before. Beside me, Emma flashed a smile, and on the other side of me, Jesse frowned.
“Hi, Elijah,” he said. His tone was polite, but his expression pinched in distaste.
“How have you been?” asked Emma.
“Good, thanks.” Elijah smiled at her and then looked over at me. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Olivia,” said Jesse. “She’s new here.”
Wondering why he had approached us, I stood up, the butt of my jeans damp with water.
Jesse stood up, too, quick on his feet. He folded his arms and stared at Elijah.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “I think you know my Aunt Audrey.”
“Yeah,” said Elijah. “You and your brother were with her that day in the diner.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That was us.”
Next to my elbow, Jesse was staring Elijah down with the expression of a thousand daggers, but Elijah didn’t react. Instead, he smiled. Up close, he was even more handsome than I had first noticed. His hair was light brown and cut short, distinguished looking. His eyes were bright blue and cheery, cheeks red from the cold and lips an attractive color of pink. He wore pressed slacks and a black jacket, not looking like a high school student, but more like a college guy. I could tell from the way he moved and stood that he was most likely athletic. Football—soccer, maybe.
“Olivia, would you like to go out with me sometime?” Elijah asked. “Maybe tomorrow night?”
My eyebrows shot up. That, I had not been expecting.
“She’d love to,” said Emma, pinching me on the arm.
On the other side of me, Jesse looked flabbergasted, as if Emma had just sold me to the slave market, and I had willingly agreed.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Not even a squeak.
“Perfect.” Elijah smiled again. His teeth weren’t as white as Avery’s or Ed’s, but he was still handsome—and he had just asked me out on a date. “
Is Audrey still in the same apartment downtown? Sometimes she orders a delivery from the restaurant.”
“Uh. Yeah.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow night at seven.” Elijah smiled once more and then walked away, waving to people as he passed. Quite the popular guy.
I turned to look at Emma, who was beaming, then glanced over at a scowling Jesse.
“Did that just happen?” I asked.
“That just happened,” Emma confirmed. “I am impressed. I don’t think he’s ever asked a girl out that fast before. Especially not the new girl.”
“Well lucky for him, she was just as quick to say yes,” Jesse said.
I tried to overlook the sarcastic tone. Whatever drama was happening between him and Elijah was none of my business. I didn’t care.
“What about that Gwen girl?” I asked Emma, turning away from Jesse, who was still pouting.
“I don’t know.” Emma shrugged. “Only time will tell.”
Although I wasn’t sure I liked that answer, I brushed it off and hoped for the best.
“I’m out of here, guys,” Jesse said after a moment. He adjusted his pack and ran a hand through his shaggy black hair. “I have band practice.”
Noah, who had ignored us the entire time, looked back when Jesse spoke. He was smirking.
“Band practice?” he repeated. “You’re one of those geeks?”
“Shut up, Noah,” I hissed. “Sorry, Jesse. He’s a little brat.”
“No worries.” Jesse just smiled at Noah, who turned away glowering, before reaching over and hugging Emma. For a moment, he looked as though he might hug me, too, but he didn’t. “Later, guys,” he said instead.
He walked away, one hand tucked into the pocket of his jeans. I shot a questioning look at Emma, who shrugged. Noah looked back, his eyes staring as Jesse’s figure vanished back into the building.
“Maybe he’s jealous,” he said. He got to his feet as Audrey’s little Mustang drove into the parking lot.
She pulled up next to us and rolled down the window giving Emma a smile.
“Can I go to a friend’s house tonight?” I asked.
Audrey glanced around me at Emma, who leaned down, grinned, and waved. She played innocent so well. Audrey looked back up and nodded. She seemed almost relieved that I had met a friend and wasn’t walking the school hallways forever alone.
“What’s the plan, girls?”
“Movie night,” Emma said smoothly. “Scary ones, preferably. They’re my favorite.”
My aunt smiled. It was almost cute how naive she was to the situation.
“Need a ride?” she asked.
“How kind of you to ask!” Emma flung her bag over her shoulder and slid into the back seat of the Mustang, next to Noah who had claimed his seat. She looked over at him and grinned, ignoring his annoyed scowl. “Nice car, Audrey,” she said. “I love it.”
Twenty minutes later Audrey dropped us off at the Newton household, and we stood outside and waved goodbye as they pulled away. I didn’t feel bad about leaving Noah, as I hoped Audrey would attempt to spend some quality time with him. God knew he needed it, but I wished her luck.
Emma lived in a cozy, upscale house with her parents on the east side of town, but it was evident immediately that neither of them was home. I didn’t ask where they were, and Emma didn’t seem to care enough to bring it up. We went straight up to her bedroom after stopping to grab snacks from the fridge. I was glad to see that her room was hip and fun, just as she was. There was a mixed odor of incense and patchouli oil when I walked in, but it was soothing and not overwhelming. Although cluttered, the room was clean and cozy. A tie-dye throw blanket hung over her queen-sized bed. Around the walls hung an array of posters and framed pictures. A few Marilyn Monroe and Bob Marley, some images of forests and streams, and then a wall of personal photos. I let my gaze wander over the pictures on the wall, my eyes flickering over family photos and pets before resting on a black and white picture of Emma and Jesse. They looked young—middle school, maybe. They were back to back, arms folded, looking sly. I hadn’t realized they’d been friends so long.
“What’s that Jesse kid’s deal?” I asked Emma, cracking open the can of pop we’d grabbed from the kitchen. “Are you guys an item?”
“Me and Jesse?” Emma repeated, kicking off her shoes. “God no. We’re just good friends. Brother and sister, really.”
“Is he gay?” I asked. Emma laughed, throwing back her head.
“No. He’s not gay. He’s just—shy.”
“He didn’t seem too shy around Elijah earlier,” I said. “In fact, he was rather blunt.” I was trying not to sound too bitter, but it was difficult not to.
“Of course he didn’t,” Emma said, and she tossed me a hairbrush. “He’s jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“Yes, doll,” she said. “Jealous.”
“Of what?”
“Of you and Elijah, of course.” Without warning, Emma whipped off her shirt and slipped out of her pants, not taking any notice as I turned away to focus on more photographs. “He likes you,” she said. I sipped my pop, feeling surprised.
“I don’t think he’s my type,” I admitted. Emma yanked a silk shirt over her head and laughed.
“Of course not,” she said. “The nice guys are never anyone’s type.” Before I could ask her what she meant, Emma headed into her bathroom and turned on the water in the sink.
“Do you have something to wear?” she called. I looked down at my mud-stained blue jeans and a black T-shirt with “One Love” scribed across the front.
“I’m not naked!” I yelled back. Emma poked her head out from the bathroom, scanning me from head to toe. She was holding a wand of mascara in one hand and a shimmery lip-gloss in the other.
“Come here,” she said. “I’ll take care of you.” I tried not to think too hard about the statement as I followed Emma to the bathroom and sat down on the closed toilet seat. After an excruciating two hours and six outfit changes later, I was finally done with my makeover. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, shocked and speechless—and yet fascinated with the work Emma had done. For once in my life, I felt like a total fox. Emma’s jeans fit me much better than mine had. They sculpted my curves, showed off my best assets. The tank top she loaned me was beautiful; sequins down the front, and just enough of a V-neck to accentuate my cleavage—in a big way. Part of me had a sudden urge to cover up, but I resisted. Tonight, I would flaunt it.
“Job well done,” Emma said to herself. “I’d do you.” I flushed bright red and then giggled like I was back in grade school. If only Elijah could see me now. “Are you ready for a night you’ll never remember?” Emma asked as she pulled on a sexy leather jacket over the willowy silk blouse she’d chosen. I grinned, my excitement growing.
“You have no idea.”
For such a small girl, Emma could hold her booze. I found that out fast. We had no problem getting into the bar, but part of me wondered if it had more to do with her breasts hanging out than it did the unconvincing fake IDs.
“Girl, I’ll show you how it’s done,” Emma said. She reached over, her slender fingers wrapping around a shot glass full of amber liquid.
Grimacing, I picked up my glass and breathed in, holding my breath to block out the taste.
“Bottoms up, baby.”
We threw back the shots simultaneously. Emma, the pro, barely had her glass back down on the counter before she signaled the bartender for another. I was still swishing my mouth out with pop as another round came our way.
“Maybe we should slow down,” I said. Just looking at the next shot was making me want to dry heave.
“Honey,” Emma said. “Live a little.”
I grabbed the second shot glass and raised it to my lips. The vile odor of tequila assaulted my nostrils. I held my breath and shot it back, refusing to let the taste linger as I chased it with my soda. “Better?” I choked.
“There you go,” said Emma. She slappe
d me on the back, and the drink in my mouth sprayed all over the counter.
I wiped my face, appalled, but no one seemed to notice as she signaled the bartender for another round. I held back bile. Maybe partying with Emma hadn’t been my brightest idea. Back in Michigan, our idea of a good time had been bowling and a movie. Maybe the occasional sneaking of a plastic cup full of wine from a box. Here, there were many drinks and not even one good show.
“Wanna dance?” Emma called as a favorite hip-hop song came on over the speakers.
I shook my head. I was way too sober to consider grinding on someone else in an inappropriate display of drunken affection. Maybe after three or four more shots, I could loosen up. If I didn’t puke first, anyway.
“Another round, ladies?” the bartender asked.
I shook my head, but Emma barreled over me.
“Keep ’em coming!” she said, and then slapped down her debit card. I wondered if her parents knew about her excessive use of their money for tequila. “Open a tab for us, will you?”
He poured another shot. I sipped at my Diet Coke, wondering if I could get Emma drunk enough that she wouldn’t notice if I stopped drinking. My stomach wasn’t used to the abuse. My face was already flushed, my fingertips tingling as the alcohol took effect. I tried not to imagine what my parents would think of this little fiasco had they been here.
“I told you this would be fun!” Emma shouted.
A stranger that looked nearly twice our age walked up to us, his eyes on Emma.
“Hi,” he said to her. “Can I have this dance?”
Emma hopped off the bar stool, grinning, more than willing to show off her skills on the floor.
“You okay here?” she called, and I nodded, relieved for the lapse in throwing back shots.
While she danced, grinding on the stranger, I finally willed myself to take my other shot. Then, shrugging, I took hers. Couldn’t I have fun, too? My stomach heaved, but I drowned the taste with soda pop. By now, the booze wasn’t as bad going down as the first one had been.
“Can I get a mixed drink?” I asked the bartender. As the tequila hit my bloodstream, I was feeling indestructible. “What’s your strongest drink?”
The Guys Next Door Page 5