How I Lost You (16 page)

Kya was regaling her seatmate with a rundown of her best snake side moves. As the servers carried out the first course, she stood. “I have to pee,” she announced to the entire table. Her martini glass was drained.

I glared at her, but she held her head high, wiggled out of her chair, and moved expertly in her heels, leaving me alone with strangers. A moment later, the master of ceremonies, a funny and articulate pro baller, welcomed everyone and showed some webcast clips about the future of paintball on the screen. Waiters in black and white fanned out around the room, placing a plate of greens in front of everyone.

I told the waiter to leave a plate for Kya and glanced around, nibbling on my salad, distracted. The men beside me kept me entertained with stories about their business, but when the servers came to clear the salad plates, Kya still hadn't returned. I wanted to ignore the worry and my building anger but pulled my phone from my purse to see if she'd texted.

Thinking about you and hoping you're having a blast.

From Levi. Despite everything, my heart tripped on happiness. I wished Levi were beside me having dinner, not Kya. Where the hell was she? I sent him a noncommittal smiley face and tossed my phone back in my purse.

The main course came out but I barely tasted the few bites of chicken and vegetables I managed. The man beside me told the table funny and interesting stories he heard from his son about life on the pro circuit, but halfway through the meal, I pushed my plate away and excused myself. I got up and walked carefully around tables in the crowded room, conscious of my short skirt and wobbly walk.

When I reached the now empty lobby, the sounds of cutlery clinking and loud voices and laughter grew a little more muffled. I headed toward the bar where we'd met Michael and Richard. The bartender nodded but no one hung out around him. I started to get worried and hurried toward a sign that indicated restrooms were around the corner.

I stopped when I rounded the corner.

On a leather couch in a narrow hallway that led to the restrooms, Kya was on Michael's knee. Giggling. Stroking his hair. He had an arm around her, and in his other hand, he held a beer. Kya sipped a drink, draped over him looking drunk and ridiculous. On a couch beside them, sat Richard, his legs crossed, sipping an amber liquid from a short clear glass.

A wave of rage propelled me over faster than I thought I could walk in heels. Kya spotted me and grinned, waving happily, keeping one arm draped around Michael. He stared down her shirt, grinning. I wondered if he was sober enough to see the fume coming out of my ears.

“What the hell, Kya? What are you doing?”

“What's it look like? Having a drinkie poo.” She snickered and planted a kiss on Michael's lips.

“We decided to meet up to have another drink,” Richard said. “She said you were coming.” I glared at Michael and Kya, not even acknowledging Richard's existence.

“The only thing you missed was dinner. Including an awesome video with footage of the Grinders.” I pulled her by the arm and she detached from Michael's face.

“I didn't miss that.” She pointed up at the wall behind me. I turned to see a TV screen with a live shot of the podium and a clear image of the screen. “We saw the speech and videos. We had a great view from here.” She giggled and threw back the last of her cocktail. “I'm not hungry.”

I gritted my teeth. Was she kidding me?

“I ate alone. Worrying the whole time what happened to you.” I reached down and pulled on her arm again, trying to get her up off Michael's lap.

“No loss. The food at these places always sucks.” Michael laughed and reached for my hand. “I'll get you a drink. My expense account takes care of all our liquor needs.”

I pulled away from his hand and snarled at him.

He lifted both hands in mock surrender. “Whoa. Take it easy. We're only having fun here.”

“This is my birthday present!” I said to Kya, ignoring him. “And you're ruining it.”

“It's your birthday?” Michael asked. Alcohol obviously made him less than observant about my mood. Or blissful enough that he didn't care. “Happy birthday. Someone get this lady a drink.” He lifted his drink in the air to toast me.

I glared at him and crossed my arms. “Yeah. I'll be eighteen. In two weeks. Not legal to drink yet. Sorry. Both of us are in high school. Not college.”

Michael's mouth dropped open. Richard laughed, happier than I'd heard him sound all night. “Eighteen?” He laughed harder and lifted his drink up. “That is awesome.”

Michael frowned. “Eighteen's legal though, right?”

“Legal for what, exactly?” I thought about taking off my shoes to use as a weapon on him.

“Dude,” Richard said, standing up. “She's ten years younger than you. She's younger than your little sister.”

I glanced at Richard, finally appreciating him. “Exactly.”

Richard chuckled to himself. “Come on, dude. High school. You want to be her prom date? That's sick. Even for you.” He stuck out his free hand and pulled Michael to his feet as Kya untangled herself, her expression confused. Richard clapped Michael on the back, ignoring her as they walked away, disappearing around the corner back to the busy dining area. Richard's laughter echoed behind them.

Kya straightened herself up. “There go my free drinks,” she said. And hiccupped. “But I forgive you.”

I stared at her. Her slightly smudged makeup. The slack expression. The unsteady body language. “Forgive me?”

The monitor crackled on the TV and I looked up and saw the MC back at the podium.

“Are you freaking kidding me? You lied to get free martinis and you sat out here drinking with some guy you don't even know, instead of sitting inside with me. Having supper, meeting sponsors. Getting ready to meet the Grinders.”

The MC announced that awards would be given out shortly and that a video of game highlights would run while everyone enjoyed dessert.

I pulled Kya up by the arm and dragged her, trying not to slip in my shoes.

“You're a party pooper. And I have to pee.” She pulled back in the opposite direction and we crashed into a girl walking out of the restroom.

My eyes opened wide.

I stared at the girl. Horrified.

 

“Sorry,” I mumbled, recognizing her face and the purple streak in her hair. Linda something. One of the Grinders. I wanted to cry. She was a sick player. One of their best.

She lifted an eyebrow and I smiled apologetically but I didn't know what to say other than, “Hey.”

Kya giggled some more. We both looked at Kya for a minute. The glossy eyes. The stagger in her steps. Her chin drooping down.

“Better take care of your friend,” Linda said, her voice not unkind.

“Yeah,” I said. “Some guy bought her a bunch of drinks.”

“You Grace Black?” she asked me.

“Yeah.” I nodded, fighting dueling pleasure and embarrassment that she knew who I was.

“Woo hoo.” Kya threw her arms up and punched the air. “Grace Black. Miss Perfect. Look at her. So freaking perfect.” Kya slurred and put her head on my shoulder with a sloppy drunken grin. “She can do no wrong, my Skanklet. Unlike me.”

“Kya.” I untangled myself and smiled at Linda but my lips quivered.

I wanted to cry for Kya, but I wanted to cry for me too. This wasn't the way this night was supposed to go. I wanted a rewind button.

“Something tells me you're going to be holding her hair back for her in there,” Linda said. “Isn't that what you girls do for each other?”

I shook my head but she'd already started to walk away. “Good luck,” she called.

Not me, I wanted to tell her. I'm not like that. I led Kya into the restroom, wondering if Linda had ever needed to look after a friend in this condition. If she understood.

I pushed hard on the bathroom door and it bounced back and slammed my finger.

It hurt and my eyes filled. “You're ruining everything,” I hissed at Kya as she stumbled into the stall.

She leaned against the door and sniffled, but snot ran unattractively down her nose. And then her eyes opened wider and tears gushed out. She dropped her head down. “I'm a terrible friend,” she wailed. Her voice broke and she sniffled harder.

I sighed but didn't contradict her as she used her palm as a Kleenex.

“I suck.”

She sobbed louder.

I wanted to tell her off again for ditching me alone at the table. Embarrassing me, never mind herself, in front of a top-ranked Grinder. For screwing up. Publicly.

I pushed her gently back and closed the door behind her. She was already blubbering and babbling and there was no use trying to talk sense in her current condition.

“You don't suck. Just go to the bathroom,” I said quietly.

She fumbled around and locked the door and while she was in the stall, I went to the mirror, reapplied lipstick, and blinked at my reflection.

At what point do you walk away from someone who involves you in their screw-ups? I knew in many ways she merely acted the way she thought the world expected her to. Or the way she felt. Messed up. The damaged girl inside her won out sometimes. The damaged girl emerged from too much blue liquor. A few seconds later, she started singing and then she finally emerged from the stall, still pulling down her dress.

“You okay to go back to the party?” I asked. “They're doing awards and speeches and then the mingling will start.” I stared at her, wondering if she could keep it together. I wanted to meet Betty. I was willing to take the risk.

“Yesh.” She grinned and slipped her hand inside my elbow crook.

We walked slowly back to our seats. I kept my eyes ahead while she giggled and begged me not to be mad at her in an exaggerated whisper. When we reached our table, I smiled and slid into my seat, relieved that someone was at the podium speaking and we didn't have to make excuses.

A waiter walked by and Kya held her hand up to order a drink, but he asked for ID and she pouted as he promised to bring her a soda. Pretending not to notice, I kept my attention on the speaker.

When Betty Baller was called to the podium, I clapped extra loud and sat up straighter. She delivered a great and inspiring speech about women in paintball and how we could help the game and work with the men. I looked beside me to see if Kya got the message. Her head was on her chest. She'd fallen asleep.

The image of pressing my hands on her throat did not seem an unreasonable one. I wanted to stay. To make an impression. A good one.

The man on her other side lifted his eyebrows, his lips pressed tight. I sighed. I had to get her out of here. What else could I do? Best friends looked after each other.

So much for making my way over to the Grinders table and introducing myself. So much for the speech I'd prepared for Betty. I needed to get Kya out of there.

I grabbed her shoulder and shook hard. She opened her eyes, groaning and grumbling. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” I whispered, and helped her get to her feet. She was coherent enough to get up, so I waved off one of the men who offered to help, glancing over at the table where Betty Baller returned after her speech. The table was lined with girls from the Grinders, including purple-haired Linda. Betty Baller's eyes narrowed and one of the other girls leaned over and said something, but I quickly turned my back, pretending not to see them.

Supporting Kya as discretely as I could, we worked our way through the ballroom and finally out the door into the still empty lobby. With my lips pressed tight, we walked back the way we'd come in. When we passed the concierge, he discreetly turned his head. Kya mumbled and apologized to me as we headed to the elevator. When it arrived, we got on and she started to cry when it moved.

“Everyone hates me. I can't do anything right. ” Her voice echoed in the tiny square space.

“Oh, Kya,” I sighed, watching the numbers as they slowly moved up the floors. Genuine sympathy seeped into my anger, but Kya probably wouldn't even remember this in the morning.

She exhaled loudly, tipping back and forth on her feet. “I'm an asshole. You shouldn't even be my friend. I don't deserve you.” She sighed. “James is right. I ruin everything.” Her tears streaked mascara down her cheeks, adding to the messy “girls gone wild” thing she had going on.

“You're definitely a mess right now,” I told her in a soft voice.

“All the time.” Fresh tears leaked from her eyes. “No one loves me. Why would they?”

I stepped closer and put my arm over her shoulder. “I may not be happy with you right now, but I still love you.”

She shook her head and laid it on my chest. “No. Don't love me. Don't.”

“Shhh. Shhh.” Part of me wanted to yell, “Quit screwing up.” The other part of me wanted to hold her closer and tell her everything would be okay.

Finally, the elevator reached our floor and the doors slid open. I pulled her outside to the hall. She stared at the carpet as if the geometric pattern mesmerized her. Her shoulders slumped and her head drooped. Then she glanced up, her eyes shiny.

“She called again. She talked to my mom.”

The elevator door shushed close behind us. I put some pressure on her elbow, to get her moving.

“What did she say?” I whispered.

“She asked my mom to ask me to help her.”

I took a deep breath. No one had helped Kya. God knows. Look at her now.

“What did your mom say?” We walked slowly down the hallway. She stumbled a little and I steadied her, checking the door numbers. Our room was further down.

“She told her no,” she said louder, her voice hard, and she pulled away from me.

“Well. What do you want to do?” I asked.

“What I want is not to be.” Her voice sounded raw and hollow. She looked at me. “Don't look so scared. I don't want to kill myself but let's face it, it would be better for everyone if I'd never been born.”

I stopped. “Kya. That's not true.”

Her face collapsed, drooping as if she hadn't slept in weeks. Muffled laughter from inside a hotel room rang in the air. Deceptive hilarity.

“Kya, your parents can be assholes, but they don't think that. They don't.” I pressed on her back to get her moving.

If I thought it would help, I would have turned around, gone back down the elevator, and driven two hours to her house, woken up her parents, and made them tell Kya they loved her. Made them tell her they were sorry for what happened to her. And that they didn't think it was her fault. She was buckling under the weight of her guilt. She'd done the right thing, taking the guy to court. Her parents never stepped up to convince her that no matter what the judge said, they thought she was innocent. She needed to hear that.

But they wouldn't say it. I couldn't make them.

Instead, they cursed, drank, and ate their feelings away. By not dealing, they were causing a bigger wound.

“What do you want to do?” I asked softly. “About the girl?”

She choked. “Nothing. Exactly what was done for me. Nothing.”

I pulled her close and we reached our room, I tried to imagine what I would do in her shoes. I didn't know. Why should Kya face him again after the outcome last time? As much as I felt badly for the other girl, Kya was my person. She came first.

She hiccupped.

Super.

I put my finger to my lips. “Mom is probably sleeping. Try to be quiet,” I whispered.

“Sorry.” She sighed. “Michael was hot, wasn't he?” Her voice was hard and angry.

“No,” I said softly. “He wasn't hot. He was old and gross. And you deserve better than a guy who gets you drunk to try to score.”

She snorted. “As if he needed to get me drunk.”

“You don't have to sleep with guys,” I whispered, “to make them like you.”

She stared at me for a moment with heavy eyelids. “You don't get it, do you, Gracie? I sleep with them so they won't like me.”

My heart broke for her a little more.