Life of the Party (55 page)

Charlie looked
me over once I was finished. “Hmm … don’t worry about those,” she
pointed, “it’s so dark in the club, no one will notice them.”

“What do you
mean?” I followed her gaze, confused. She was looking down at my
arms, at the various track marks that were marring my skin.

“Wow. I didn’t
realize they were so … noticeable.”

“It’s bright in
here. Anyway, don’t worry about it. Besides that, you look
awesome.” She threw me an apron after I piled my clothes in the
locker. “You should always carry about twenty-dollars change in
this apron for a float. I’ll lend you some until the end of the
night, okay?” She instructed, pouring some coins into one of the
pockets. “Ready?”

“Ready.” I
nodded. But then, Charlie smiled slyly at me.

“Not quite
ready.” She pulled something clandestinely from the bag in her
locker and handed it over to me. “Here. Take some, for old times
sake.”

I giggled and
quickly unscrewed the vial, snorting the beautiful cocaine powder
up into my sinuses. I had missed this too, a lot. I took a few more
and then handed it back to Charlie, who did one quickly and then
replaced it in her bag.

“Okay, good.
Come with me.” She smiled.

The place was
thrumming. Grey’s band was on by the time we made it back out, and
they were about partway through the first song of their set. It was
nearly impossible to get through the avid crowd cheering before the
stage. Charlie had to throw some elbows. I stared up at Grey as he
sang, just as entranced as ever, like it was my first time seeing
him up there. He was so gorgeous. I loved the way he spread his
legs, the way his jeans were tight on his thighs, the way his
muscular arms held his guitar and demanded such beautiful,
screaming music of it. I loved how his blue eyes scanned the crowd,
how a slight dimple graced his stubbled cheek as he smirked, how
his perfect lips crooned the lyrics with his husky, perfect voice.
And he was mine. That was the absolute best part. Grey was
mine.

Charlie managed
to lead me to the main bar. The pace wasn’t too frantic while
everyone’s attention was diverted by the band. I did my best to
listen and learn as Charlie dragged me around the place, talking a
mile a minute about drink orders and computer systems and
everything else. It was all a little overwhelming at first, but I
knew I would get the hang of it eventually.

I worked mostly
at clearing tables for the rest of the night, which was a relief,
something I could handle. I didn’t feel capable enough to try and
run the computer system just yet. And the place was a mess. I could
see now why the floor was always sticky and how the vinyl booths
became ripped; why cigarette butts lined the floor. Drunk people
were ridiculous. I wasn’t used to being around them so sober. They
were actually kind of … annoying. Every once in awhile though,
Charlie would pull me aside and we’d do a shot at the bar. Once I
had a good, happy buzz going I didn’t mind the idiots spilling
their drinks and stumbling overtop of me. It was actually kind of
fun, like Charlie had said.

But there was
one down side to working there that I hadn’t foreseen.

When Grey’s
band finished, they went back to the VIP section, just like usual.
But this time, I couldn’t go with him. There were designated staff
assigned especially for that section, and I’d have to work my way
up the totem pole to ever be given such a position. I sighed,
watching as pretty young girls filed into the VIP room, biting back
the jealousy that flared within me. I knew I could trust Grey,
without a doubt, but I also knew I couldn’t trust any of those
other girls.

I was busy
working away, cleaning up the sticky, disgusting mess of tables,
when I felt a sudden hand on my waist. I smiled at the touch—I knew
without a doubt who it was standing behind me. And all my worries
melted away.

“Excuse me,
sir.” I turned around, playfully slapping his hand away. “I have a
boyfriend, and he wouldn’t like you touching me.”

“Well,” he
smirked, his voice low, “I have a girlfriend, too, but you’re so
damn pretty, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Hmm ….” I
smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Gorgeous, more like.

“This
boyfriend, is he a big guy?”

“Yeah. Huge.” I
raised my eyebrows.

“Well. That is
a problem.” Grey wrapped his hands around my waist. “I guess I’ll
have to take my chances.”

I smiled as he
pulled me to him and in seconds we were kissing. Lost in the sea of
people, I knew no one would ever notice. Still, I made myself pull
away from him before we got too hot and heavy. I was at work, after
all.

“You guys
sounded great.” I wiped my lipstick from his lips. “Amazing turn
out, hey?”

“Yeah, it was
good.” He shook his head. “I almost forgot my lines though, when I
looked out and saw you … in this,” he motioned to my scanty
uniform. “Damn you’re hot. Do you think this boyfriend will mind if
I take you home tonight?”

“Who cares?” I
shrugged happily.

He grinned. “So
you’re really working here now?”

“Yeah, I guess
so. This guy just gave me a job, like, on the spot. And Charlie
said she makes great tips. I think it’ll be okay.”

“Good.” He
kissed me again. “Well, I’ll be in the VIP. Come get me when you’re
done. I’m taking you home with me tonight, boyfriend be
damned.”

I giggled as he
left me and was shortly swallowed up by the crowd. I could still
spot him, though I couldn’t see him. I just had to watch for all
the females craning their necks for a better look.

The days
passed, falling into a pattern of sorts, one that I took up quickly
and happily. Whenever Grey and I woke up, either at his house or
mine, we’d shoot up almost immediately. It wasn’t even so much as a
want anymore—it was a need, for the all too familiar sickness was
always at bay, waiting to strike if we went without for too long.
The rest of the day would pass in total, utter bliss, a blur of
happiness and contentment. The thought of quitting heroin didn’t
even occur to us anymore, not if we could manage to function as we
did. We forced ourselves to function, determined to have the best
of both worlds. If I had to work, I’d start doing cocaine towards
the evening to get ready for my shift. It gave me the energy I
needed, the spunk required to make it through the long, sometimes
tiring shift.

The tips were
even better at the Aurora then they had been at the Red Wheat, on
the weekends anyway, so I could manage to support all my drug
habits and pay my rent. Grey’s band played there a lot—some
weekends, some weekdays—so I was essentially getting paid to watch
nearly all of their shows, and he in turn was getting paid to play
them. It was the perfect scenario. I’d stay just high enough on
cocaine and drunk enough on alcohol during the evening to placate
my constant craving for more heroin, but as soon as my shift was
over I’d hurry to meet Grey at home, where he’d be waiting for me
with a fresh batch all prepared, and then we’d shoot ourselves into
oblivion once again. It was a fine balance, one that was always
teetering towards the loss of control. But somehow we were able to
make it work. We had to make it work.

Charlie was
trying desperately to get over Zack. The evidence was obvious. If
Grey and I stayed at my house overnight, it was inevitable the next
morning to see or hear some strange guy heading out the door. Grey
didn’t really like it, he didn’t like the thought of strange men
coming and going at all hours of the night. We started spending
more nights at his house because of it, which I thought was a bit
of an overreaction, but one I didn’t mind a bit. I was worried
about Charlie but she seemed happy—she seemed to be doing much
better than she had been, anyway. So I just let it go.

Courtney was
now a constant in our lives. She and Charlie were nearly
inseparable. I always felt a pang of jealously when I saw them
laughing and joking and talking together. They always had private
jokes. It reminded me of how Charlie and I used to be, before all
the unpleasantness. Even though we’d managed to patch up our
relationship, we were never as close as we had been, and I feared
we never would be again. That’s why—though it did hurt my
feelings—I wasn’t really surprised when Charlie asked me if
Courtney could move in with us.

“But, where
will she stay?” I wondered.

“She can sleep
in my room.” Charlie suggested. “Or … if, I mean, since you’re at
Grey’s house all the time anyway … maybe she could stay ….”

I didn’t let
her finish. “I’ll talk to Grey.” I interrupted.

He was
amazingly receptive to the idea. I was surprised; I thought guys
weren’t into that kind of thing, not until they were ready to
“settle down,” anyway. But Grey just smirked at me.

“You should
move in. You’re here all the time anyway.” He shrugged.

“Are you sure
you’re not just saying that?” I argued. “If I hadn’t asked, would
you have asked?”

“Yeah, sure. I
just didn’t think about it.”

“Really?” I
wondered doubtfully.

“Yes.” He
rolled his eyes at me. “Would it help if I said it?”

“Yes.”

“Mackenzie,
would you move in with me? Please?”

“Why, Grey,” I
exclaimed. “I thought you’d never ask.”

By the end of
November, I was officially living with Grey. It really was no
different than before, since I’d spent almost all my time there
anyway. I was sad to move out though, every excited giggle on
Courtney’s lips hurt me just a little more, shoved the knife in
just a little deeper. She was always hanging around on the edges,
watching as we loaded up my things, impatiently waiting for me to
get the hell out of there. Charlie hugged me at least when I left
for the last time.

“I’ll miss you
Mac. And this doesn’t change anything, you know.”

“Yeah.” I
nodded glumly. She punched me playfully in the arm.

“Don’t be like
that. You know you’ll be happier over there.”

“Maybe. But
I’ll miss you.”

“Don’t be
silly. You’ll see me all the time.” She promised.

I knew I’d see
her at work—I’d see both of them at work—but I also knew it
wouldn’t be the same. That it would never be the same. I forced
myself to smile at her as I left, heading down the old rickety
stairs, leaving my first apartment behind me. I tried not to
remember how excited Charlie had been when I first moved in, how
eager we’d been to get high, how we’d spent that whole first night
giggling ecstatically. Suddenly I sympathised with Katrina or
whatever the hell her name had been—Charlie’s first roommate. I
wondered if, like me, the door had been shut on her before her
first foot hit the ground.

Grey tried to
comfort me. He cooked up an extra shot that night just to raise my
spirits. It worked too. I lay back on his bed with his warm arms
around me, and suddenly I didn’t care about Courtney and Charlie
anymore. Suddenly, they just didn’t matter. I was with the man of
my dreams—like, I was actually living with the man of my dreams. I
couldn’t believe it. I propped myself up on my arm and just stared
at him, amazed.

“What?” Grey
asked me casually, suddenly aware of my scrutiny.

“I can’t
believe I found you.” I said with awe. “How am I so lucky?”

He smirked at
me, his blue eyes shining, and tucked an errant strand of dark hair
behind my ear. “I wonder the same thing every time I look at
you.”

That night was
a memorable one.

But they all
were really. I’d never known such contentment … sleeping in Grey’s
arms every night, waking up to his gorgeous face every morning,
spending every minute we possibly could together in a state of
constant happiness. His room grew much messier after I moved in, my
clothes were all over the place, underfoot, strewn across his chair
and his bed. My make-up took up a dominant spot on the bathroom
counter, my shampoo and conditioner and body wash left “slippery
shit” all over the bottom of the tub, and my shoes practically
overflowed the entryway. But for all this, Alex and Zack complained
more than Grey did, and even that was done in jest.

Though I do
wish someone besides me could’ve seen the look on Alex’s face the
first time he discovered my box of tampons under the sink.

Living with
three guys was surprisingly easy. They may have been messier than
girls in most respects, but they were also painfully easy going.
And if they had a problem with something, they’d say it to my face
instead of talking behind my back. We settled into a nice,
harmonious arrangement. I’d even managed to forgive Zack for
breaking my best friend’s heart. We never talked about it or
brought it up or anything, we just … agreed to disagree. And I had
always loved Alex. He was just too sweet; he was too much fun not
to fall in love with, with his lank brown hair and his winning
smile. The only disagreement we ever had was whether or not I
should be allowed to knock down the beer-can castle, which had
grown larger over the months, now dominating the little dining
room. I voted strongly in favour of the action, but he had yet to
be swayed.

Winter hit with
full force. Its icy claws clung to the windows, glazed up the
sidewalks and frosted over the stubble fields surrounding our
little frozen town. But I was oblivious to it. I was up above the
clouds, sailing beneath an eternal summer sun, anchored to the
earth by nothing more than Grey’s strong arms around me. Heroin was
like a beach in a needle. It was the only vacation I needed.

At times, when
we were more lucid, Grey would take out his guitar and work on his
music. That was my absolute favourite. I could sit on the bed and
just watch him for hours as he practiced and composed, leaning over
his guitar and deftly forcing notes from the strings. Grey would
sing to me until I cried, overcome. He’d work on lyrics too, curled
up with me on the bed with a pen in his hand. He could write the
most beautiful poetry, I was in awe. He tried, unsuccessfully, to
teach me how to do it, how to create.