Life of the Party (38 page)

We were just
about to sneak away for a cigarette when a tall, fairly handsome,
but obviously rich and snobby type came and stood next to me at the
bar. He ordered a cognac—what the hell was that anyway—on the
rocks.

“You must be
Mackenzie.” He turned to me then, his voice thick with
I’m-wearing-a-thousand-dollar-suit arrogance. I smiled politely up
at him.

“Yes. And you
are …?”

“Smitten.” He
smirked, raising his eyebrows at me.

“Alright then.”
That was officially my cue. I grabbed my jacket off the chair and
started for the exit, pulling a giggling Charlie along behind me. I
looked back at him once from across the room and he was still
standing there, watching me with the same stupid smirk set on his
face. I rolled my eyes and headed out the door.

We found a
picnic table in the alley of the restaurant, I think it was
reserved for staff breaks, but I figured they wouldn’t mind. I
climbed on top of it and lit a smoke as Charlie leaned against the
brick wall.

“Can you
believe that guy?” I chuckled. “I can’t believe those cheesy lines
actually work on some women.”

“He was pretty
cute.” She shrugged. “I bet he doesn’t get denied very often.”

“Are you
kidding? I’m probably the first one who had the audacity.”

“Probably,”
Charlie laughed.

“It’s your
fault he tried to pick me up, anyway. You’re the one who insisted
on making me all pretty.” I decided, looking down at my tight, dark
blue skinny jeans and high, black peep-toed shoes. I wore a black
scooped back halter-top, my hair was in a high ponytail, and my
dark curls cascaded elegantly down my back.

“Well, I’d tell
you to go for him, but I don’t want another Brad incident on my
hands.” Charlie admitted. “He is really cute though. And obviously
rich.”

I shook my
head. “No way. I’d never go for someone like him. Even if Grey and
I weren’t ….” I trailed off, my words hanging suspended in the air.
I realized I didn’t know how to finish my sentence. I didn’t know
what Grey and I were anymore. I sighed and blew out my smoke.
“Anyway, I’d never go for someone like him.”

“Yeah.” Charlie
nodded. “Once you go bad, you can never go back.”

“Something like
that.” I stamped my cigarette out on the table and then dug through
my purse until I found what I was looking for. What I needed
desperately. I brought the scoop to my nose and did some cocaine,
super quickly—I was such a pro now that it barely took any
effort.

“Are you sure
you should be doing that now, Mac?” Charlie wondered
sceptically.

“Yes.” I
snorted deeply. “Want some?”

She shrugged
and took the coke from my hand.

By the time we
headed back into the party, it was time for us to eat. I took my
place next to Whitney since we had to sit in wedding party order,
and Charlie found a place at a table not far from mine. I felt
pretty good, better now, I had a nice combo of wine and blow going
for me. I actually smiled and talked a bit to the people around
me.

The food was
delicious; I took my time with a beautiful filet mignon done to a
medium-rare perfection. It was the most I’d eaten in a long, long
time. I finished it up with a large glass of wine, but no one
seemed to care that I was underage.

Whitney and
Marie were sizing up the groomsmen, trying to decide which one
they’d be paired with at the wedding. I leaned forward curiously to
look, I hadn’t even thought about that awkwardness yet.

“Maybe I’ll get
Colin.” Whitney whispered. “I hear he’s going to be a surgeon.”

“I think you
will. I think Derek is my partner, the married one.” Marie
frowned.

“Who’s mine?” I
interrupted.

“Oh, um,”
Whitney glanced over. The other bridesmaids were still kind of
awkward around me since the whole dress-day fiasco. “Oh, right.
You’re with Greg’s brother, Craig.”

“Greg’s
brother’s name is Craig?” I giggled.

“Yeah.
Why?”

“They rhyme.
Like, Julia Gulia.” I laughed. “Don’t you find that funny?”

They just
stared at me. I began to wonder if I was drunker than I thought. I
cleared my throat. “So, which one is he?”

“That one,
there. Next to Greg.” Whitney pointed for me. “He’s a stunner, huh?
A total catch, he’s in finance. Totally loaded.”

Of course he
was. I looked with disdain at Craig—A.K.A Smitten—Greg the dick’s
brother. I should’ve known he was related to Greg. His superior
countenance should’ve given that away immediately.

“Great.” I
stated sourly.

“I’d trade with
you in a heartbeat.” Marie decided.

“Yeah, I’d take
a piece.” Whitney agreed. They giggled like girls at a school
dance. I rolled my eyes at them. They could have him, as far as I
was concerned.

The night drew
on. There were a few speeches, but nothing overly dire. I left my
table as soon as dinner was officially over so I could join Charlie
back at the bar. She was going to stay the night with me at the
hotel, but had to depart early the next morning to get back for
work.

I tried to
think of a good excuse for us to leave the shindig so we could go
and actually party. The crowd was thinning out, and we probably
could’ve gotten away with it, but then Greg cornered me.

“Hey there,
little sister.” He joined us at the bar, leaning heavily on the
counter.

“Oh, hey,
Greg.” I forced a smile. He seemed pretty drunk, his eyes were
bleary and a ridiculous smirk curved his lips. “This is my friend,
Charlie.” I introduced.

“Hey, Charlie,
I’m getting married tomorrow.” He announced.

“That you are.”
She lifted her glass to him.

“Woooh.” He
cheered, raising a limp hand upright in celebration.

“Woah. Don’t
over do it now.” I smiled wryly. Charlie laughed behind me.

“Say,
Mackenzie, have you met … my brother?” Greg was looking past me and
beckoning him over. “He’s in finance, you know.”

“So I hear.” I
glanced over my shoulder as Smitten made his way towards us,
swaggering in his finely tailored suit. I sighed.

“Craig, this is
the beautiful Mackenzie. Marcy’s little sister. Soon to be my
little sister.” Greg grinned. He actually pinched one of my cheeks.
I slapped his hand away.

“Mackenzie.”
Craig held out his hand. I nodded and shook it.

“Craig. This is
my friend Charlie.” He shook her hand as well, but his eyes never
left me. I tried to avoid them.

“Now,
Mackenzie,” Greg leaned in, like he was about to tell me a very
important secret. “You be nice to young Craig, you see, because
he’s absolutely perfect for you.”

“Is he?”

“Oh yes.” Greg
nodded.

I flipped my
hair behind my shoulder. Even if Grey and I weren’t together
anymore, he would serve as the perfect excuse, for the moment.
“Well, I already have a boyfriend, and I happen to think that
he’s
perfect for me.”

To my
astonishment, the brothers laughed, like I had just told them a
hilarious joke or something. I crossed my arms and glared at
them.

“Right, right.
The rock star, right? Motorbike, the whole shebang.” Greg chortled.
“He sounds like a real winner.”

“If he actually
even exists.” Craig grinned.

“Oh, he
exists.”

“So, where is
he then?” Craig held up his hands, looking around the room.

“He’s in the
studio, actually, with the band. They’ve got a record deal, and
right now they’re recording their album.” I bragged.

“Oh, wow, an
album, he’s practically famous.” Greg mocked. This made the two
morons laugh harder, and they leaned against each other with mirth.
I shook my head and began to gather my things from the bar. I was
not in the mood for this bullshit.

“Come on,
Mackenzie.” Craig grasped my arm. “Think about it. He’s obviously
not that smart. If you were my girl, I’d lock you up; at least, I
wouldn’t let you out of my sight. You guys can’t be that
serious.”

Wow. I really
didn’t need this. I could do without a play by play of my exact
thoughts and fears, especially coming from this dickhead. I pulled
my arm from his grasp.

“You don’t know
anything.” Angrily I stepped down from the stool.

“Uh oh, you hit
a nerve, brother. I think you’re onto something.” Greg grinned.

“I am, aren’t I
Mackenzie?” Craig persisted, smiling smugly. “Come on, are you guys
even together?”

“Of course
they’re together.” Charlie came to my defence then, her blue eyes
flashing smartly at Craig. She put her arm around me. “They’re
inseparable.”

“Oh yeah? Well,
if they’re so inseparable, where is this guy?”

“I told you.
He’s in the studio!” Fuming, I pushed roughly past the two men in
their matching expensive cologne and disappeared through the
dwindling crowd beyond. I didn’t stop to talk to my mom or my dad
or Marcy or anyone. I rushed out of the room and stormed through
the exit, not stopping until I was out on the sidewalk. There, I
paused to gather myself and wait for Charlie. The cool night air
felt good against my heated cheeks, the general city noise helped
somewhat to drown out the angry thoughts swirling through my head.
The traffic rushed by on the busy street, horns were honking, a car
alarm was sounding somewhere in the distance.

“Hey Mac,” I
heard Charlie’s heels clipping on the sidewalk as she came to join
me. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I lit a
smoke. “Sorry. I just had to get out of there.”

“I don’t blame
you. What a couple of dicks.” She scoffed in disbelief.

I nodded.
“Right? I mean … ugh … idiots.” I crossed my arms and wordlessly we
started walking down the sidewalk towards the hotel; it was only a
few blocks away. I pulled my cell phone from my purse but the
screen was blank—no messages, no nothing, just infuriatingly silent
like always. I sighed.

“You know what
the worst part is, Charlie?”

“What’s
that?

“They’re right.
Greg and his brother. About Grey and I.” I looked up at the sky,
but I couldn’t see the stars from the bright city lights. “I don’t
know what I thought we had, Charlie. But I think, whatever it was,
it must be over now.”

Charlie didn’t
have anything to say to that. She slung a comforting arm around my
shoulders and we walked in silence the rest of the way.

I did my tenth
line of the morning, grinning as soon as I felt the sweet burn, and
leaned heavily against the bathroom counter. My heart was pounding
furiously in my chest, hammering against my ribs—the blood was
racing through my veins. I managed a shaky smile, invigorated by
the spasms of happiness and pleasure the cocaine gave me. I needed
this. There was no way I could act the chipper, ever-helpful
bridesmaid all day without a little help.

I sucked in a
quivering breath and stared at myself in the mirror a moment. This
was actually happening. I was a full-blown ballerina. The
hairdresser had done my hair up in a loose French knot, with curly
tendrils falling down my shoulders and my back, as if I’d just
finished dancing at an intense recital or something. I’m not sure
if that’s what she was going for, but that’s what it looked like.
There was actually a tiara in my hair, perched upon the crown of my
head, glinting in the bathroom lights. My dress was on in all its
pink, sequined, crinoline splendour; my shoes resembled real ballet
slippers, tied up with pink ribbons and all. I didn’t look bad, the
beautician had done a great job on my make-up, giving me catty eyes
in dark liner and bright red lips, so I actually looked really
good. But still, I was a friggin’ ballerina.

I put the drugs
back in my pink bejewelled clutch—a bridesmaid’s gift from Marcy,
who had given each of us one—and snapped it shut. My eyes were
still a little red and puffy from the previous night, it had been
hard to stop the tears of despair once they’d finally forced their
way through, once I finally felt the pain I’d tried for weeks to
ignore.

I pushed the
sadness away with a shake of my head and stepped out of the
bathroom, eager to get this day done and over with so I could stop
faking cheerfulness and revert back to my depressed state of mind.
The cocaine gave me some much-needed energy. I ran around the room
in shaky acceleration, taking care of last minute details, helping
Whitney with her shoes, fixing Marie’s hair that kept falling from
its pins. When the bridesmaids were finally ready, we crossed the
hall to Marcy’s suite where she was getting dressed with my
mother’s eager, helpful hands. Dad was sitting in the living room
area of the suite, dressed in a stiff dark blue suit, his hair
neatly combed and gelled. He looked nervous, flicking randomly
through the channels on TV. He ignored me.

Marcy was a
sight. I stopped in my charged walking and just stared at her a
moment, locked in a drug-induced stupor. There was a flush of
nervous excitement in her cheeks and her eyes twinkled happily as
she looked in the mirror. Her hair was dark and sleek, straightened
in a perfect bob; a simple veil was pinned in her hair with
tortoiseshell combs. Her dress fit to a tee, accenting her narrow
waist and toned arms; a turquoise tear-dropped silver necklace
emphasised the neckline of her gown and brought out the perfect
evenness of her tan. The wedding dress cascaded around her frame in
layers of silky white and sparkling embellishments, pleasing to the
eye.

A few emotions
flitted through me at that instant—happiness, jealousy, sadness. I
stood there, resigned. Never in this lifetime could I ever compete
with Marcy. I would always be second, no matter what.

“What do you
think, Mac?” She asked me carefully. We hadn’t really spoken since
the big fight, and she was still guarded around me—actually they
all were, like I could just fly off the handle at any moment.