Read Life of the Party Online

Authors: Christine Anderson

Tags: #romance, #god, #addiction, #relationship, #cocaine, #overdose, #bible, #jesus, #salvation, #marijuana, #heroin, #music fiction, #rehab, #teen addiction, #addiction and recovery, #character based, #teen alcohol abuse

Life of the Party (10 page)

BOOK: Life of the Party
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“Zack asked me
to come along. You don’t mind, do you? I just couldn’t say no, I’ve
been waiting so long ….”

“No, of course
I don’t mind.” I exclaimed suddenly, her words alleviating all my
worries. My anticipation surged again, stronger than ever. Grey
didn’t want her! I giggled excitedly as we climbed into her car. “I
can’t wait. This is going to be great.”

“I know!”
Charlie laughed and lit a smoke. She threw her little sedan into
reverse and then punched it when we were the right way around. We
rolled the windows down and let the night air wash over us, racing
through the empty, quiet streets. Slipknot blared through her
speakers, the music lost somewhere behind us in the calm night air,
the dull thumping bass of her stereo wafting down the streets.

This was it.
This was living. This was exactly where I wanted to be.

We pulled up to
Charlie’s condo just a little after ten. She lived in a quiet, dark
part of town, where the buildings were older and needed paint in a
bad way. The trailer park where Riley lived was not far from us,
and I glanced sadly in that direction.

“Come on,
Mackenzie!” Charlie smiled and raced up a set of wood stairs, grey
with age. They squeaked and groaned in protest. I turned from my
sudden melancholy and followed her, taking the stairs more gingerly
that she had, not trusting them with my weight. She fought with the
saggy doorknob and flicked a light on once inside. I stepped into
the entryway behind her and surveyed the little house.

It was older,
apparent in the gold plastic trimmings and light fixtures, the odd
cream coloured light-switch plates, the threadbare carpeting and
cracked linoleum. But she still managed to make it cozy and
welcoming—the walls repainted a warm green, candles covering nearly
every available surface, blankets and pillows adorning the older,
second-hand furniture. I liked it immediately.

Charlie swept
in, throwing her bag on the kitchen counter, her coat on the chair
in the living room, flicking on lights as she went. I followed into
her small bedroom, sitting on her unmade bed as she rushed around,
opening dresser drawers and rummaging through her closet.

“Do you live
here by yourself?” I wondered, sitting cross-legged with the large,
flat book she had just handed me, getting out my supplies so I
could roll us a joint.

“No, I have a
roommate. Katrina. She’s got the bedroom at the end of the hall.”
Charlie made a face, throwing some chosen clothing on the bed
beside me.

“You don’t seem
pleased.” I noticed.

She frowned.
“Katrina’s kind of a pain in the ass. I’m thinking of kicking her
out.”

“Really?
Why?”

Charlie stepped
over to the CD player and pressed play. The room was instantly
flooded with 311, loud. She smiled and came to sit next to me.

“Just roommate
stuff. She’s messy and always late with the rent.”

“I like your
house.” I licked the joint and handed it to her.

“Thanks.”
Charlie lit the joint, puffing away until the end was smoking. She
sucked in and held her breath. “Here.”

I took it from
her and inhaled deeply. Even just the taste and smell of weed smoke
was relaxing to me. I smiled and handed it back to her. She took
another drag, held it, and then passed the joint back to me.

“Okay, let’s
get to work.” She piled some clothes on my lap, a pair of silvery
studded blue jeans and a tiny, silver halter-top. I looked at them
a moment incomprehensibly.

“Put them on,
silly.” She laughed and started taking off her pants. I grinned
dumbly and nodded. We changed in her room—she into a long, tight,
pink, sleeveless dress and I into the jeans and top. They actually
fit fairly nicely. I took a glance in her full-length mirror,
impressed. The silver top was a little low. It showed some good
cleavage, hinting nicely at my breasts beneath, something I was
unused to. The rest of the shirt flowed smoothly down my tight
abdomen, barely meeting the jeans that rested snugly just off my
hips.

“Hot.” Charlie
decided. I handed her the joint and she sat me down on the bed,
pulling over a large make-up kit and starting on my face.

“No, you’re
hot.” I argued. And she was, she could’ve been a runway model, her
dress fit her so perfectly. Charlie shrugged, and smiled.

“Just wait
until I’m done with you.” She promised. I shook my head. We had
less than half an hour. Not near enough time for a miracle.

I wasn’t really
paying attention to what Charlie was doing. I was nicely high by
that point, content, happy. She began drawing around my eyes with a
pencil. Her hands were soft and smelt like lotion.

“How old are
you?” I asked her suddenly.

Charlie smiled.
“Nineteen. You?”

“Seventeen.” I
admitted morosely. Everyone was older than me. “Do you think I’m
too young?”

“Too young?”
Charlie thought a moment. “Quit squinting. No, you’re not too young
for this crowd, that’s for sure.”

“Why?”

“Honey, if
anyone gives you any flak for your age, it’s only because they’re
jealous. They wish they still had your excuse to act the way they
do.”

“They wish they
were still seventeen?”

Charlie nodded.
“It’s easier to get away with it all when you’re that young. You
are expected to become responsible at some point, you know.” She
leaned back and surveyed my face. “There, all done.”

“Thanks.” I got
up and looked in the mirror, wishing now that I had paid attention
to whatever Charlie had done. It didn’t look like me, staring back
at me. This girl had cheekbones and large, dark eyes—smouldering
eyes—deep, full red lips. I gazed back at Charlie in surprise.

“Told you,” she
shrugged, and began painting her own face. I was amazed. I did look
hot. Older, too. I liked that a lot.

“What should I
do with my hair,” I asked her, pulling my hands through the long,
dark curls.

“Umm … put it
into a ponytail, like you do, with some left in the front. And make
the top … big.” She demonstrated. I nodded and got to work. We
primped and preened—Charlie shook out her blond curls, she pulled
on her tight black knee-high boots and leant me some distressed
silver-black heels, high and pretty with a closed toe.

I couldn’t
believe how good I looked. I didn’t want to be vain, but couldn’t
help just staring at myself in the mirror. Charlie noticed and
began to giggle at me. I laughed too, a mixture of weed and
excitement and complete disbelief. This was going to be a great
night. I lit a smoke to try and calm down my nerves.

“I think
they’re here.” Charlie exclaimed a few moments later, as the dim
noise of a car horn caught our attention. I looked at her
desperately, suddenly horribly afraid and overcome by nervousness.
She rolled her eyes and smiled at me.

“Relax. He’s
not going to know what hit him.”

I let her lead
us back through the house, flicking off lights as we went. We
grabbed our bags and headed for the door. I prayed I wouldn’t trip
down the long flight of stairs in my heels and break a bone or
something. My smoke was like a security blanket—it gave me
something to do, made me seem preoccupied. Charlie waved in the
direction of headlights and closed the door behind us.

Somehow I made
it down the stairs and to the car. I felt young again, like a
tagalong, trailing behind Charlie like a little sister. It made me
angry at myself and I took a breath, willing myself to be brave and
more confident.

“Hey.” I
recognized his voice before I saw him. A smile lit my face
instantly, and suddenly, I wasn’t nervous anymore. Suddenly, it all
felt fairly natural apart from the excited, ramped up beating of my
heart. Grey stood before me then, next to the opened car door, and
smiled as he took in my appearance.

“Mackenzie,”
was all he said, but I could tell he approved. His blue eyes were
darker, gleaming, his face freshly smooth from shaving. A hint of a
grin curled his lips, almost a smirk, smug. He had on dark blue
jeans and a tight black shirt—I could see his muscles hard against
the fabric. If I have ever come close to swooning, it was then.

Grey gently
pushed an errant dark curl off my shoulder, his fingers brushing my
collarbone as he did so. I shivered delightfully. He held the door
open and motioned for me to get in. I slid into the middle of the
seat, squeezing up close to Alex—the other passenger—as Grey got
in beside me. The backseat was fairly small, making for imminent
body contact. His cologne wafted toward me with the whoosh of air
from the car door shutting, and his thigh pressed against mine as
he made himself more comfortable. I was nearly dizzy with
elation.

Charlie hopped
into shotgun, smiling excitedly. Zack shut her door and walked
around the front of the car, getting into the drivers seat. He was
good looking, about the same age as Grey with blonde, mullety hair
that actually suited him. Multiple piercings hung from numerous
places; a muscle shirt showed off the full sleeve of tattoos that
covered his arms. Charlie smiled at him as he started the car.

We all adjusted
in our close quarters. Grey rested his arm along the top of the
seat, not quite hugging me, but I could feel the warmth of his skin
along the back of my neck.

“Mackenzie—Alex, and Zack.” Grey introduced. I smiled at them
both.

“Nice to meet
you.”

Alex nodded. He
was fairly scrawny; his face was as long as his sandy blond hair,
but his smile was winning, and I could tell right away that he was
a ton of fun.

“Let’s get
fucked up!” he shouted, “come on Zackie!” he gripped the back of
Zack’s seat, banging it a few times. Zack laughed and revved the
engine in agreement. I didn’t know what kind of car we were in,
something older, with faded silver paint and blue upholstered
seats. The engine sounded impressive anyway. I grinned as Zack
suddenly slammed his foot on the gas and we squealed into the
street.

“Music!” Alex
demanded. Charlie pulled out a thick black binder full of CD’s and
started going through them. Meanwhile, Alex handed me a joint he
had just rolled and I took a drag. Someone produced a flask and
started passing it around. I took a swig, my eyes instantly
watering, my mouth burning as I choked it down.

“What was
that?” I asked when I recovered my breath. Grey had been watching
me with amusement.

“Appleton
Jamaican, 151 proof. You took it like a champ.” He laughed.

“Well, I’m
nothing if not a champion drinker.” I joked.

Charlie put
Godsmack into the CD player, and soon
Moon Baby
was
deafening us through the speakers. A dizzying combination of weed
and rum moved steadily around the car, passing in a ceaseless
circle that included our driver. I didn’t even think to be scared
or worried, a far off distant lecture about getting in with a drunk
driver barely occurred to me, and I easily ignored it. Obviously
Zack had this under control.

“How are you
feeling now?” Grey asked quietly, about an hour into our trip. He
lowered his mouth wonderfully close to my ear to be heard. His
breath gave me delicious shivers, my skin goose bumps.

“Amazing.” I
breathed.

“Just you
wait.” He promised. His hand played with the curls from my
ponytail. I was in heaven.

“Where are we
going? What are we—?”

“Just you
wait,” he chided. His hand moved from my hair, his fingers slowly
tracing a trail down my neck, then up again. “By the way … you look
amazing.”

I blushed. “I
do?”

“You know you
do.” His voice was lower, guttural. I smiled.

“Thanks.” The
feel of his fingers was addictive. My heart began to beat harder at
his touch, however slight. I clenched my hands against my legs. He
chuckled and stopped, placing his hand back against the seat,
allowing me to catch my breath—but I missed his fingers the moment
they lifted. I bit my lip and tried to calm myself.

Soon we could
make out city lights on the horizon. Alex cheered. I laughed,
fairly wasted already just from the drive in, let alone whatever
was happening later. The talk and laughter was rowdy and lively
inside the car. Alex and Grey were arguing about some bands I’d
never heard of; Charlie was trying to regale me with a work story
from the front seat. Zack would throw a few words into the band
conversation. We weaved through the city traffic, the streetlamps
lighting the interior of the car as we passed beneath them.

Finally we
pulled into a parking lot filled with vehicles. I looked out the
window in interest, but the street was fairly dark. The only thing
that made sense to my poor befuddled brain was the turquoise blue,
neon sign perched atop a brick building. It said “The Drink” in
large green letters, with a martini angled off the side of it.

“We’re going to
a club?” I asked Grey excitedly. “But I’m not old enough—”

“Leave that to
me. Come on.” He opened the door and helped me out. As soon as I
stood up, I nearly fell over. I hadn’t expected to be so wasted, it
took me by surprise. Grey laughed and steadied me.

“You okay?” His
hands were warm on my bare arms.

“Yeah.” I
laughed happily. Better than okay. Great, wonderful … ecstatic.

“Come on.” Grey
took my hand in his and pulled me towards the entrance. Alex and
Zack and Charlie were walking ahead of us. As we turned the corner,
I was amazed to see the long line of people waiting to get in the
club. It stretched nearly the entire block. I looked up at Grey but
he didn’t seem disappointed, like he hadn’t anticipated a wait at
all.

I soon
understood why. When the two large, intimidating men at the
entrance saw us coming, they immediately pulled back the rope and
let us all through. Grey spoke with them briefly—I didn’t hear the
conversation, but I did notice that they called him Mr. Lewis. I
raised my eyebrows at the VIP treatment and smiled.

BOOK: Life of the Party
7.95Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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