Life of the Party (9 page)

“So, are you
okay or what? You look kind of terrible.” Riley smiled, opening his
locker to exchange books. “Late night or something? Can’t say I
miss that. You’re looking at a full eight, every night. I’ve never
felt better.”

“That’s really
great, Ry.” I tried to be enthused, tried to seem light-hearted. It
all sounded wooden to me. “Um … so, I was just wondering, well, I
was hoping that we could hang out sometime soon … just me and you.”
I looked up at him hopefully. Emily was definitely not invited.

“Sure … yeah of
course. Um ….” Riley thought it over. I frowned impatiently. When
did this become so awkward? Hanging out with Riley used to be as
natural as breathing, and now we had to watch ourselves, had to
keep things from each other, had to think things through before
saying them.

“I’m just
trying to figure … this week is crazy, when I’m not working I’ve
got to get my studying done, what with the camping trip this
weekend ….”

“What camping
trip?” I interrupted suddenly. A faint hope that he had planned our
trip in secret, to surprise me, glimmered briefly.

“Oh, yeah,
we’re heading to Moose Lake this weekend, Emily and her family and
I, kind of a pre-grad celebration thing.”

“What?” My hope
died, snuffed out with barely a fight. I couldn’t believe my ears.
Anger and injustice began to mix with my panic and worry, roiling
together just below the surface. “You’re going on
our
camping trip? With the Christian?” I said her nickname with as much
disdain as I could muster.

“What?” Riley
chuckled, but the sound was dangerous. “What did you call her?”

I didn’t
answer. I just stared at him in disbelief, and I could feel my
tears welling. My sight became blurry, my voice wobbly. My throat
burned.

“I can’t
believe you.” I managed.

“What’s the big
deal?” He asked with concern, his own anger forgotten as soon as he
saw me crying. It worked like a charm, every time.

“I don’t know.
I suppose you’ve probably forgotten, since you’re so busy with
her
all the time.”

“Leave her out
of it. Get to the point, I’ve gotta go.” Riley was getting
impatient. He had to go be with
her
, is what he meant.

“We were
supposed to go on a camping trip, remember? Us! For pre-grad. We
planned it for months. Remember?” My voice was thick.

“Well, sure … I
remember.” He softened. “But, I told you Mac, I can’t do those
things anymore. You know I can’t. I’m sorry. I know it sucks.”

I frowned, and
crossed my arms around the volatile mixture of emotions within me.
My entire chest seemed to burn.

“Hey, Mac. Come
on, don’t be upset. I know … maybe I could ask Emily if you could
come with us this weekend. We could all hang out. What do you
say?”

I scoffed
incredulously at him. It wasn’t so much his words, as ridiculous as
they were. It was the fake enthusiasm I could hear in his voice. He
didn’t want me to go with them anymore than I wanted to go. He
didn’t want me with him. And that killed me.

There were no
words. The tears overwhelmed and spilt down my cheeks. I shook my
head and turned from him, heading blindly down the badly lit
hallway, no direction in mind but out. Part of me was conscious for
him, waiting to hear him call my name, waiting to hear his
footsteps falling behind me. He couldn’t just let me go, could
he?

And when he
never came, when he never followed, I had my answer. And I knew
then why I hated seeing Emily’s hand twined within Riley’s. Because
she had replaced me, just as I feared and easier than I ever
could’ve imagined, and seeing that physical bond had been like
tapping the final, inevitable nail into our coffin.

Riley and I
were done.

Our night was
coming to a close. I caught a sight of my face in the decorative
mirror, amazed that my eyes were still red, though the puffiness
had gone down. I had gone through all the motions a waitress was
expected too, but I had no enthusiasm, no patience at all for any
of the people surrounding me. I just wanted to go get high, higher
than I’d ever been, to have a break from the doldrums and find some
numbing peace in the process. My thoughts weren’t allowed to even
sneak by Riley’s name. It was all too close, and then I’d end up
where I’d been for most of the day. Trying to hold back tears that
would just inevitably break through.

“How you
holding up, hon?” Charlie asked me, back in the relative safety of
our waitress area, and rubbed my shoulder comfortingly. I had
indulged a few details to Charlie, only because she demanded to
know and wouldn’t accept my allergies excuse. She knew both Riley
and I, and could sympathise fairly well. Also, it felt good just to
talk to someone, and she was surprisingly easy to talk to.

“I’m okay.” I
decided. Just minus one best friend. I took a deep, shaky
breath.

“Here.” She
handed me the large plastic container for House dressing. “Go hide
for a minute. I’ve got things under control out here.”

“Thanks,
Charlie.” I nodded, glad for an excuse to drop the fake smile from
my face for a few minutes. I headed through the dish-pit to the
large walk-in refrigerator. It smelt in there, like oil and cheese
and eggs and sour milk and whatever else happened in refrigerators.
There were shelves upon shelves of cold food and sauces and
supplies. I took the large, heavy, black funnel from the wall and
tried to remember how Sophie had shown me to refill the dressing,
having never actually done it myself before.

A large white
bucket sat on the floor, the word “House” scrawled in faded black
marker. Then I remembered. I sat the dressing container on the
floor, taking the lid off so I could place the funnel in the top.
Carefully I removed the wide lid from the heavy bucket, trying not
to get covered in the thick white-green gloop in the process. By
the time I had the bucket lifted and into position to pour, the
funnel had tipped sideways out of the top of the dressing container
and was lying on the floor upside down. Quickly I put the bucket
down and retrieved the funnel, hoping I hadn’t broken any health
codes in the process. I placed it back in the container, where it
rested precariously against the edge, and grasped the bucket
again.

A curse escaped
my lips when I noticed the black funnel, upside down on the floor
again. Vaguely I remembered the poor woman from
The
Gods
Must Be Crazy Two
, trying desperately to get a rusty drink from
that old rickety windmill while the monkeys kept making off with
her can. Suddenly, I could sympathise with her.

I looked around
for a moment, deciding to prop the funnel/container up against the
wall to keep it in place. It looked like it would work, but barely
had I started pouring when the funnel tipped out again, this time
falling to the floor and splattering dressing everywhere. I bit my
lip and cursed again, closing my eyes in frustration. Now I had a
mess to clean as well. The last thing I needed.

“Damn monkeys.”
I breathed nonsensically. It was then I heard him chuckling. I
looked up quickly in surprise and found Grey, standing there at the
entrance to the fridge, his arms folded on the nearby wire shelf,
his head resting on his arms, his eyes wide with amusement. He had
been watching me. I felt the alarming blush rush to my cheeks. His
blue eyes were dancing with laugher, even more beautiful then when
they were sullen.

Normally very,
painfully aware of him, I had been utterly distracted all night;
even to the point where I almost forgot he was working. I smiled at
him now though, pleasantly surprised, probably the first real smile
of my whole day.

“Would you like
some help?” He offered.

I shrugged,
trying to play it cool, but then admitted, “Yes, I would.
Please.”

“Here. Hold the
funnel.” He sauntered over and picked up the pail as if it weighed
nothing at all. I bent down and held the funnel upright for him. We
worked in silence a moment, watching as the thick dressing poured
neatly into the container.

“So what’s with
you tonight?” Grey asked when he was done, flipping the pail up
expertly. “Cursing monkeys by yourself? You look like you’ve been
crying all day.”

“Oh … it’s
nothing.” I stammered, and I could feel myself flush bright red.
“Nothing to bore you with.”

Grey shrugged,
and then he smiled, sitting upon the white bucket and patting an
overturned milk crate beside him. “Come on. Indulge me.”

“Um …. Okay.” I
felt like my smile might split my face in two. I sat down beside
him and tried to stay cool. Why was Grey talking to me all of a
sudden? It didn’t matter, as long as he was.

“So ….” He was
close enough for me to smell not only the scents of the kitchen,
but also his own scent … a hint of men’s cologne, sweet and
masculine. His blue eyes were even more intense up close, so clear
and beautiful. Hypnotising almost. He smirked, and motioned for me
to tell my story. What was I upset about again? I couldn’t seem to
remember. Oh, wait … of course ….

“Um … well,
Riley and I had a fight … sort of.” That was barely scratching the
surface of what we were going through, but I thought it’d do.

“About?”

“Well … he’s
kind of, done with the party life, you know, and I’m not.”

“I noticed that
actually. He doesn’t even smoke anymore.”

“I know! It’s
frustrating. But I’ve tried to be understanding.”

“Are Riley and
you … together? You worry about him a lot.”

“No we’re not
together.” I shook my head. “We’re best friends … at least we used
to be.” I wanted to stop there.

“Go on.” He
encouraged. It was hard to think straight with Grey so near. I kept
my eyes busy, cataloguing all the items on the shelves of the
refrigerator, and took a deep breath.

“Well, he met
this girl ….” I started, but I could tell my voice was about to
break, and I stopped then. I looked up at the roof and prayed that
I wouldn’t break down, not now, not with Grey here, actually
talking to me. What a way to impress him. I cleared my throat and
held it together. “Anyway, we’re over. It’s just … over.”

The finality of
my words hung in the air.

“That sucks.”
Grey decided. I nodded; amazed that we were having this
conversation, amazed that he actually cared.

“Yeah, it
does.” I admitted.

“Did you tell
him
to go screw himself?”

“No.” I laughed
loudly, his question surprising me. “No, I didn’t. Maybe I
should’ve.” I looked at Grey and grinned.

“It’s amazing
what a simple ‘screw you’ can do to a man.” He chuckled. I laughed
with him again, repentant.

“I’m sorry
about that, I just … I didn’t even think … it was just the first
thing that came to me.”

“Don’t be
sorry.” Grey smiled. “I enjoyed it. Really.”

“Okay. Well,
I’ll remember that.”

“Okay.” He
nodded. “Mackenzie.” He stood up off his bucket and stretched out a
hand to me. Hesitantly, I put my palm in his, praying that my hand
didn’t feel sweaty or sticky or gross. He pulled me to my feet and
suddenly I was very, very close to him. Closer that I’d ever been.
I drew in my breath and forced myself to look at him. Forced myself
to meet his gaze.

“Come out with
us tonight.” He grinned. His smile took my very breath away. “I
promise, by the end of the night, you won’t even remember what you
were sad about.”

I couldn’t even
think rationally. Grey was asking me to go out with them. Somehow I
managed to keep a calm exterior, but the Mackenzie within me was
doing a very childish and horribly embarrassing triple-arm-pump of
exultation. I gave Grey a wide, dazzling smile.

“I’ll take that
as a yes.” He chuckled again. “Eleven o’clock. We’ll pick you up.”
He edged slowly out of the refrigerator.

“Great.” I
nodded. Grey smiled at me again as he left, only to pop his head
back into the fridge when I was cleaning up my mess a moment
later.

“And
Mackenzie?”

“Yes?”

“Get ready.
We’re getting fucked up tonight.”

I beamed up at
him. “Perfect.”

A quick glance
at the clock told me it was almost ten. Hurriedly I wiped up the
waitress station, aware now as Grey worked behind the counter near
me, whistling as he stacked up the ramekins, the glassware clinking
together. A surge of excitement spread through me, making my
stomach churn convulsively. In an hour, I’d be out with Grey. One
hour.

“Hey, you
almost done?” Charlie came in and surveyed my work. “Good. We don’t
want to be late, and we still have to get you out of those
clothes.”

“Out of my …?”
I looked down at myself, dressed in dark pants and a turquoise blue
sweater, and puzzled. Charlie giggled.

“For tonight,
silly. You’re coming to my house. I’m going to doll you up before
we go.”

“Tonight?
You’re coming with us?”

“Of course. You
think I’d let you go with those idiots by yourself?” Charlie shook
her head, her blond curls flipping around her shoulders. “Come on,
let’s go.” She stretched her hand out to me.

I took her
hand, hesitantly, and smiled, but felt disappointment leak into my
chest. Had Grey asked Charlie to come? Why had he asked me then?
Maybe Grey was into Charlie and just asked me along to make it seem
like a group thing. I frowned, and felt stupid. There was no
competition between Charlie and me. She’d win hands down.

My excitement
began to drain, my night heading quickly in a downward spiral. I
followed Charlie through the restaurant into the warm, fragrant air
of summer night, but I lacked my previous enthusiasm. Then she
smiled at me.