Life of the Party (54 page)

“I love you.”
He panted. “I’d do anything for you.”

“I know.”

It was agony.
I’ve never felt so sick in my entire life. Just when I thought I’d
reached the pinnacle, that things couldn’t get any worse, they did.
I shook and trembled. I was violently ill. Every noise grated in my
ears, the slightest breath of breeze from the window felt like
razor blades against my weeping skin. The pain in my stomach
doubled, tripled—until I was bent in half, crippled in torture. I
tried to stay quiet, tried to keep my suffering to the panting
horror of my breath. But I felt like screaming.

It was too much
to bear. I swallowed thickly, keeping the bile at bay.

“Grey,” my
voice was unrecognisable, harsh and choking in my ears, “Grey,
please … I can’t do this … I can’t ….” I wept, tears of anguish
disappearing into the beads of sweat upon my cheeks. “Please
….”

He turned over
to me; I knew it hurt for him to do so. Every movement hurt. He was
in just as much agony as I was.

“It’ll get
better. I promise.”

“No, it won’t.
It can’t. I’m sick, Grey. I’m so sick.”

“I know.” He
reached for my hand and brought it to his lips. “Please, just be
strong. For me, be strong ….”

Hours passed.
It didn’t get better. I was writhing, flipping in pain, groaning
and gritting my teeth, my body pulsing with sweat and nausea. I was
dying. That was all there was to it. I was going to die.

Grey voiced my
exact thought. “I’m fucking dying here.” He groaned. I’d never
heard his voice so full of agony; I’d never seen him so weak. He
sat up on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hands.
“I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“Grey …,” I
reached for him, but he was gone. “No, Grey, don’t leave me,
please. Don’t leave me alone.” I meant to yell for him, but my
voice was no stronger than a strangled whisper. I collapsed back
onto the bed, too weak for anything else, all my energy pent-up in
my racking sickness. Crying, sobbing, shaking, trembling, I pulled
myself into a ball and waited for death.

A voice came to
me from beyond the pain, the voice of an angel.

“Mackenzie.”
Grey was calm again, in control of himself. I pried my eyes open,
cringing as the light assailed them.

“Grey.” I
cried. “Please. Make it stop. Please.”

His face was
before me, tortured, his blue eyes desperate and sad. I barely felt
him grip my arm, barely registered the sharp sting of the needle
….

And then
everything was good again. The sickness receded, falling back,
surrendering to the sweet heat of the drugs sweeping through my
veins that killed off every ill feeling, every ounce of pain that
had plagued my body. I could breathe again, breathe easily. My
muscles relaxed, my body slackened against the bed. A few moments
more and I found myself actually smiling, something I didn’t think
I’d ever do again.

“Thank you,” I
sighed. “Thank you.”

Grey was
playing his music. It came to me from somewhere beyond my dreams,
making me smile in my sleep. When I opened my eyes, he was sitting
on the edge of the bed, quietly strumming his guitar. Even without
the practice he didn’t make one mistake, and the notes weaved in
and around me in a beautiful melody. I sighed happily.

“Grey?” I sat
up.

“Hey,” Grey
turned back to me, “how you feeling?”

“Good.” I
realized with surprise. “Better. You?”

“Better.” He
nodded, looking back at his guitar. He seemed resigned … relaxed,
almost. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but I thought he’d be more
upset about our failure to get off the drugs. We’d given up; we
hadn’t been able to last. He smirked at me sheepishly.

“I’m
sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making you go
through that. If I’d known it was going to be so hard to quit, I
never would have started again in the first place. I never would
have let you do it. It was stupid of me, I didn’t realize ….”

“No, of course
you couldn’t.” I stopped him short. “Don’t worry about me, Grey.
I’m totally fine.”

“Yeah, you are
now.” He grimaced. “But you didn’t look fine a few hours ago.”

“It felt like I
was going to die.” I admitted, shuddering in remembrance. “But I
didn’t.”

“No.”

“So, what do we
do now?”

“I don’t know.”
Grey frowned and strummed idly. “Cut back, I guess, so next time
it’s not so hard.”

“That makes
sense.” I nodded. I couldn’t help but be relieved—this statement
meant there was going to be more heroin in my near future. Again,
Grey’s attitude surprised me. It made me wonder if he’d been hoping
this would happen. I knew how much he loved the drugs, almost as
much as I did. We may have found it too hard to quit, but at least
now we could say we tried.

“We do need to
cut back though,” he insisted, as if trying to convince himself,
“like seriously. We have to get clean.”

“Yeah.” I
agreed. But they were just words. Empty, meaningless words said
with no real conviction. I loved heroin. I didn’t really want to
quit, and I knew Grey didn’t want to either.

“I think you
should at least get a job.” His blue eyes smiled at me. “It’ll
help, knowing you have to go out and work. It’ll keep us from
getting high all day.”

I stuck my
tongue out at him and flopped back on the bed dramatically. “Grey,
come on. Can’t you just support all my habits?” I teased. Well,
half-teased. I really never wanted this holiday to end.

“Not yet,
sugar. Maybe one day.” He smirked at me.

I huffed. “I
need a shower.”

“Don’t change
the subject. Seriously. Where are you going to look?”

“I don’t know.
The lumberyard? They must be hiring, now that Zack and Alex are
done there.”

“The
lumberyard? You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

I glared at
him. “Could too.”

He chuckled.
“Could not.”

“Really?” I
pushed the sleeve of my shirt up and flexed my bicep—impressively,
I thought. “Now tell me I couldn’t.”

Grey burst into
laughter. He pulled his guitar off over his head and set it
gingerly against the bed, then wrapped his hand almost completely
around the hard muscle of my arm.

“Wow, that is
impressive.” He snorted. “I take it back. Maybe you’d last seven
minutes.”

I knew it was
futile, but I attacked him, trying to pin him back to the bed …
apparently the only wrestling move I knew. He let me win again,
falling back easily and chuckling as I used all of my one-hundred
and ten pounds to keep him there.

“Mackenzie?”

“Yeah?” I
gloated from above him.

“You’re
right.”

“I am?”

“Yes. You do
need a shower.”

I attacked him
again, gleefully, but he wasn’t having it this time. In seconds I
was pinned to my side, and we wrestled, and he tickled me, and the
sounds of our happy, youthful laughter floated down the
hallway.

I couldn’t find
Charlie anywhere. I pressed my way through the throng of people—it
still felt strange to be up and out of the house and around others
after so long, even stranger to have put actual make-up on and done
something with myself. It was Saturday night and I was at the
Aurora, where the guys were slated to start playing any minute. The
place was packed; apparently Serpentine’s infamy had only grown
from their time spent away at the studio. The club was busier now
than I’d ever seen it.

I hoped Charlie
would be there. I mean, I knew she didn’t really have a reason to
be there now—at least not like before, when she was with Zack—but
still I hoped. Courtney worked at the Aurora; I had caught sight of
her through the crowd, and thought maybe Charlie would be there as
well. I hadn’t seen her in what felt like ages, and I hadn’t been
lucid enough to have an actual conversation with her for even
longer.

“Excuse me,
miss?” A familiar voice chuckled behind me. “Can I get you a
drink?”

I turned
around, recognizing her instantly. “Charlie!”

“You know it,
baby.” She twirled for me, clad in an Aurora uniform, a little
black skirt and a tank top with bright pink letters across the
front. She carried a tray and wore a little waitress apron so full
of cash that she jangled when she walked. I smiled at her in
amazement.

“Wow! You work
here!”

“Yeah. I just
started, last week.”

I felt
terrible. I lived with the girl, and I had no idea. “That’s so
great Charlie! Wow. I’m sorry I’ve been so out of it lately. I got
a bit … you know ….”

“It’s all
good.” She smiled, her lovely blonde curls shaking around her face.
“I knew you were alive. I figured you’d snap out of it
eventually.”

We had to yell
to talk. I knew this wasn’t the time or place for the kind of
conversation I wanted to have with her, which was a good heart to
heart, like before. So I kept it light.

“Do you like it
here?” I wondered.

“Yeah, I do.
It’s great. The tips are fantastic. And …,” she leaned in closer to
me, her blue eyes delighted. “They’re still hiring. I could put a
good word in for you, if you want.”

“What?
Really?”

“Yeah, Mac,
come on! Think about it. What other place would you get paid to
party?”

“You get to
party?”

“Hell yeah! I
mean, you can’t get like, sloshed or anything, you have to be able
to function, but you can drink and shit. Come on, do it so we can
work together again. It’d be great.”

“What are your
hours like?”

“I work from
like seven till two or three. Seriously, Mac. It’s awesome.”

It sounded
awesome. I smiled, and nodded. So far, I hadn’t been able to get
hired by the lumberyard. “I’d love to work with you. Do you think
they’ll hire me?”

“Come on.”
Charlie yanked on my hand. “Let’s go see.”

She made her
way through the bustling crowd, which was definitely a skill I
would have to attain if I were to work there, especially with a
tray full of drinks. As she pulled me along behind her I had to
admit that it scared me a little, the prospect of serving such an
unruly, drunken mob. At the same time though, I was excited by the
challenge.

I followed
Charlie eagerly, happy that I’d actually put some effort into
myself since it seemed I was going to an impromptu job interview.
My dark hair was piled up in curls on top of my head, messy and
punky; I wore black heels and tight black jeans with a deep red
v-neck belted shirt. I looked pretty good—not Charlie good, but
still very pretty.

We went through
the staff entrance down a long, tiled hallway. The noise from the
bass pumping on the dance floor could still be heard faintly, muted
as it was by the walls in between. The general offices were tucked
around the corner, and Charlie rapped on the dark wooden door,
pushing it open after only waiting a moment.

“Hello?”

There was a man
at the desk in the small cluttered office. He had dark short hair
and wore glasses, his desk was covered in cash-out sheets and order
forms. He motioned for us to come in and we waited quietly as he
finished up his phone conversation.

“Hey Charlie,
what can I do for you?” He finally said, acknowledging us as he
flipped his cell phone shut.

“Hey Walter.
You’re still looking for waitresses, right?”

“Yeah.” Walter
smiled hopefully and looked me over. “Okay. You’re hired. When can
you start?”

I started to
giggle, but then I realized he was serious. “Uhhh … I can start …
whenever you want me to.”

“Tonight?”

I stammered,
taken aback. “Ye-yeah. Sure.”

“Great.
Charlie, you’ll show her around, won’t you?”

“Of course.”
She answered happily.

“Great, thank
you. Oh, and hey,” Walter smiled at me again, “maybe I should get
your name.”

“It’s
Mackenzie.” I grinned, holding out my hand for him.

“Walter. Lovely
to meet you.” He shook it, and then motioned to the door. “I’ll
have to get your actual information sometime for payroll. But for
now, off you go.”

Charlie and I
giggled to each other on the way out the door.

“Wow. Did that
really just happen? That was so abrupt.” I couldn’t believe I just
got a job; it was such a relief to me. And I got to work with
Charlie again. I beamed ecstatically as we walked down the hallway,
unable to believe my luck.

Charlie
chuckled. “Yeah. That was Walter. We’re a little desperate here, if
you hadn’t noticed.” She pulled me through another door into a
grungy little staff room. Old, peeling, black and white checked
linoleum covered the floor, and dated vinyl booths took up a good
portion of the wall. Charlie led me past these, over to an older
metal storage locker scrawled with ink from years and years of
graffiti. “Here, these should be your size.” She rummaged around a
moment and then held up a skirt and a tank top taken from the
communal closet.

“Holy crap,
Mackenzie. Do you eat anymore?” Charlie frowned, looking between my
tiny frame and the size of the clothes in her hand.

I laughed. “Of
course I eat.” Just not very much.

She shook her
head doubtfully and found me a size smaller. “Here. We each get a
locker for our shit; you can have this one beside mine. Go change
into your uniform, and then I’ll show you the rest.”

“Okay.”
Ecstatically I headed into the washroom and changed my clothes as
quickly as I could. The only shoes I had with me were heels, and
though they weren’t exactly practical, they would have to do. The
uniform skirt was short, showing ample leg; the tank top tight
across my chest. Knowing what I did now about the skin to tip
ratio, I figured I was going to have a good night.