Life of the Party (26 page)

“Oh.” I nodded.
Obviously he didn’t want to talk about it, but I was intrigued. I
took another scoop of delicious white powder and shot it up my
nose. The cocaine made me blissfully numb but superbly aware. “How
expensive is this stuff anyway?” I wondered suddenly. I’d have to
pay Charlie back for all the dope I’d gone through.

“Depends on how
much you want. Eighty bucks will last the night, typically.”

“Eighteen, or
eighty?”

“Eighty.
Eight-zero.”

“Really?” My
eyes got big. I held the vial up to estimate its size. “How much
would it cost to fill this up again?”

“Um … I don’t
know. Three, four-hundred maybe.”

“What?” I
laughed in surprise. “Really?”

“Roughly, yeah.
Why,” he chuckled, “you in deep?”

“No, well, this
was Charlie’s. She lent it to me last Friday and I’ve kind of …
used it all.” I looked down at the skimpy remnants that clung to
the inside of the vial. “Good thing I’ve got tips now.”

“Yeah, I’d say.
That’s going to be a mighty expensive habit, at the rate you’re
going.”

I shrugged.
“Girls just wanna have fun.”

“Yeah. Some
girls more than others.” Grey studied me for a moment, and a smile
broke over his lips. “Sometimes, I swear, you’re like the female
version of me.”

“Well,” I
grinned. “No wonder you like me so much.”

“Yeah, I guess
that’s one of the reasons.” He laughed, and when he did, his blue
eyes twinkled brightly, happily. I loved it. I loved being the
cause of his happiness.

“There are
more?”

“… Yeah,” he
relented. I was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter; he was
leaning opposite me against the center island. With a smirk set on
his perfect lips, he swaggered over and stood before me, so I only
had to look up to see into his face.

The coke gave
me confidence I probably never would’ve had otherwise. I put my
hands on the hard muscle of his arms and slowly trailed my fingers
down them. I met his eyes—eyes so beautifully clear and blue they
would have rivalled any summer day—and smiled warmly at him,
invitingly.

“And those
reasons would be …?” I probed.

“Well … this is
one of them ….” His voice dropped low, he smiled sexily and then
bent down to kiss me. His lips were soft against mine at first; I
wrapped my arms around his neck and let my fingers delve into his
messy, dark hair. His hands were warm on my waist, he used them to
pull me close and my heart leapt happily in my chest.

His smell and
taste and touch swept over me until my senses reeled with delight.
I couldn’t get enough of him. I would never get enough of him.

A noise
occurred to me, vaguely, so focused was I on the feel of Grey’s
lips that I barely noticed it. It continued on, until he was the
one that stopped and pulled away, staring at my purse in vexation.
I followed his eyes to my bag strewn upon the counter, and suddenly
the noise made sense to my befuddled brain. Without thinking—only
to make it stop so that we could continue where we had left off—I
snapped my cell phone up and whipped it open.

“Hello?” I
answered abruptly.

“Do you have
any idea what time it is? I have been calling—” I had to hold the
phone away from me so the sheer volume of mom’s voice wouldn’t
burst my eardrum.

“Shit, it’s my
mom.” I cringed, whispering to Grey as she continued to rant and
rave. He looked at my cell phone in awe. Mom had an impressive
range when she needed it.

“Mom. Mom, hold
on.” I tried to calm her.

“If you don’t
walk in this door in five minutes, I’m sending your father to get
you,” she threatened. Which would have worked, had she known where
I was. Plus, she forgot the threat of my father stopped scaring me
when I was eight.

“Mom, relax.
I’m on my way home now.” I lied.

“Five minutes.”
She repeated. That was it, she hung up on me right afterwards. I
sighed and flipped my phone shut in defeat.

“I should go.”
I frowned. Still twined around Grey’s hard body, I could easily
have changed my mind, hang the consequences. I rested my head on
his shoulder.

“She sounded
pissed.” He smiled.

“That’s because
she is.” I groaned. “Shit, Grey, what am I going to do? I’m still
like, totally blitzed.”

“Here, let me
look at you.” He sat me up and studied my face intently. With his
hand he smoothed my hair, still a tangled mess from our earlier
bike ride. His blue eyes were soft. “You look fine. Amazing,
actually. They’ll never suspect a thing.”

“Are you sure?”
I bit my lip nervously.

“Even if they
did suspect something, what would it be? Alcohol maybe. At the very
worst weed. Cocaine is not a conclusion parents jump to.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll be
fine.” Grey kissed me again, and his lips hinted of our earlier
passion, but it was over way too soon. He lifted me down from the
counter. “We should go. Five minutes, remember.”

“Right.” I
frowned and stuffed everything back into my purse. I had missed
thirteen calls on my cell phone; my parents must have been trying
to get a hold of me while we were out riding. I looked at the call
list with dread. I was in huge trouble.

“You don’t mind
giving me a ride home?” I wondered as we put our shoes on at the
front door.

“No. How are
you supposed to get home in five minutes by walking?”

“I don’t think
we’ll make it in five minutes riding either.”

Grey grinned.
“I’ll take that bet.”

It was exactly
seven minutes later when Grey pulled up in front of my house. As I
climbed off the bike he whistled lowly, studying our home in
surprise. I followed his eyes and glanced up at the house,
wondering what he was thinking, trying to imagine what it might
look like through someone else’s eyes. A sprawling two-story
covered in cultured stone and fancy lighting, with a fully
landscaped yard and manicured hedges—yeah, I knew what it looked
like. Rich. At least, small town rich. I bit my lip. Maybe we were
rich, but I didn’t really think of myself that way. My parents
were, I guess. I wasn’t ashamed of their status or anything, but I
didn’t want Grey to think of me any differently. I wanted us to be
on the same page, on even keel.

“Wow. What does
your dad do?” He wondered.

“Oh, it’s this
new thing. He gets paid per the amount he annoys me.” I kidded.
“See, he’s pretty good at it.”

“Oh, I see.”
Grey smirked. “So, you’re spoiled.”

“No.” I could
see the menacing shadow of my father in the window; I imagined he
was glaring out at us even as we spoke. I tried to ignore him.

“Thanks for
coming to get me.” I wrapped my arms around Grey’s neck and smiled.
“I had a really great time.”

He nodded, and
smirked, and bent down to kiss me. I loved the taste of his lips,
every time seemed new, delicious. I never wanted to stop.

I hated to
leave him, but I knew I had to. I sighed and pulled away.

“Bye.”

“Good luck.” He
smirked. He held onto my hand as long as possible, dropping it as I
slowly backed away from him. I turned regretfully and hurried
across the quiet street, up the flagstone walkway lit by beaming
little solar lights. The motorbike rumbled to life behind me. I
heard it rev up and then peel away, and I knew that Grey was
gone.

I was nervous.
Not about getting in trouble, but about acting sober in front of my
parents. I was totally ramped up, everything about me was
accelerated. I hoped they wouldn’t notice. I hoped they’d see my
twitchiness as anger or frustration.

Dad had the
door open before my foot hit the last stair. He glowered out at me,
a silhouette in the light streaming through from inside. I bit my
lip and slowed my gait, warily brushing by him on my way through
the door. Dad followed me silently back into the house.

Mom was
waiting, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall in the
entry. I was amazed by my parents’ calmness, I had expected them to
be yelling and screaming at me by now. It actually made me more
nervous, this unforeseen serenity; it meant I was in more trouble
than just a good old scream-fest was worth.

“Into the
living room, please.” Mom requested civilly. I stepped out of my
flip-flops and placed my purse on the floor by the door. She led
the way into the adjoining room, and then motioned for me to sit on
one of the overstuffed, floral patterned sofas. She sat in the easy
chair beside the couch, her legs crossed formally like this was a
business meeting. Dad didn’t sit at all. He just stood there, his
arms across his chest like he was a bouncer or something. His face
was hard and grim.

“So,
Mackenzie.” Mom started. I turned to face her, unconsciously
chewing on my lower lip. My heart was hammering in my chest, how
could they not hear it? I took a deep breath, focused on acting as
calm as they appeared to be.

“First of all,
do you mind telling us where you’ve been all evening?”

“Uh, yeah. I
was with a friend, we were hanging out. No big deal.” I shrugged.
Dad breathed heavily.

“Do you not
remember me specifically asking you to be home right after
school?”

“Yeah, I
remember.” I admitted.

“So why didn’t
you?”

“I don’t know.
My friend has a bike and he asked me to go for a ride, and I just …
I couldn’t resist.”

“You couldn’t
resist.” Mom sighed. “Ugh, Mackenzie. What are we going to do with
you?”

“The same thing
you did before. Nothing.” I suggested.

Mom scoffed.
“That’s the last thing that’s going to happen, young lady. There
are going to be some changes here. And like it or not, you will
have to accept them. We are your parents, you are our child. We
must enforce some boundaries for you.”

“Really?” I
threw my hands up in amazement. “Really, though? I’m seventeen
years old, I graduate in two days. Don’t you think it’s a little
late? Don’t you think we should’ve had this conversation, I don’t
know, a few years ago, maybe?”

“We didn’t need
this conversation a few years ago,” Mom shook her head, “I don’t
know what’s come over you lately, but you’re changing. Are you on
weed?”

“Weed?” I
looked at her like the very thought was insulting. “Mom.”

“I’m sorry.”
She sighed and rubbed her hand across her forehead. I almost felt
bad for her. Almost. “We just, we want to help. Can’t you talk to
us, tell us what’s going on?”

“There’s
nothing to talk about.” Not anymore, at least. There was a time
that I was open to talk to my parents—a time when I actually wanted
to talk to them. I could remember it clearly. But they were always
too busy. Dad had to catch a plane; Mom had to get to bed so she
could work all night. Marcy needed this, Marcy needed that. I’m
sure they meant well, working hard to provide for us and
everything, but really. How could they expect me to just open up
now?

“Are you sure?”
Mom prodded. “We’re not the enemy, you know.”

I shrugged
silently. They weren’t getting anything from me.

Mom sighed
again. “Okay, I tried. Mitch,” she waved her hand at him, like he
was tagging in or something. “Go ahead.”

Dad nodded. He
had on his “insurance” face now, the one he used when he was
determined to sell something. “You don’t want to talk? Have it your
way.” He shrugged like it didn’t matter. “From here on in, we’re
going to have the following rules in place, and like it or not,
you’re going to have to obey them.”

I looked up at
him, my eyes narrowing defiantly.

“One. No more
staying out until all hours of the night. You’re going to have a
curfew like every other normal teenager, home by eleven during the
week, midnight on the weekends.”

“Dad.” I
glared. “You can’t be serious. Midnight on the weekends?” I was
incredulous. “You can’t just start treating me like a little
kid!”

“Then you
should stop acting like one.”

“What?”

“You heard
me.”

I stared at him
a moment. Neither of us would back down, we were too similar in
temperament. “Ugh, you know what? No.” I stood up and shook my head
at them. “No, this is bullshit. You’ve been home all of what—a
week, and suddenly you get to judge me?”

“I’m only on
rule one, kiddo. Shall I keep going?”

“No. No.” My
racing heartbeat was suddenly fuelled by more than cocaine. Anger
pushed it even harder. I felt a surge of furious adrenaline shoot
through my veins. My fingernails pressed into my clenched palms as
I struggled to keep it together. Vaguely I remembered all the
stories I’d heard of people totally freaking out when they were
high on coke. I suddenly understood. My emotions were so
intensified that I nearly saw red.

“I don’t give a
shit about your stupid rules.” I concluded. “You can’t just ignore
me for years and then suddenly start trying to make decisions for
me.”

“We never
ignored you.” Mom looked appalled by the accusation.

“Really? For
the last two years I’ve spent nearly every night by myself. I
could’ve been doing anything, and no one would know. Does that
classify as ignoring? But it never seemed to bother you, leaving me
alone like that. You let me do whatever I wanted to for years.”

“Did you ever
think that maybe we trusted you?” Dad interjected.

“Trust? Yeah,
right.” I scoffed. “That had nothing to do with trust. You just
didn’t care about me. You had your friggin’ golden child
already.”

“What?” Mom sat
up in her chair. She stared at me for a long moment, as if trying
to rationalize my words. They seemed to disturb her. “Mackenzie, is
that really how you feel?”

I shrugged and
stared hard at the red woven area rug beneath my feet. I could’ve
proved my point, God knows I had enough material, but why should I
bother? There was no way they’d sympathise. I’d just come off
sounding immature and jealous and petty and then they’d have even
another reason to like Marcy more than me.