Populazzi (37 page)

By the time we were done, we were exhausted and starving. We didn't want to bust into the party food or get anything dirty by attempting to cook, so we took great pleasure in raiding the Bar Wench's pantry, and even greater pleasure in crashing on her bed.

We didn't wake up until early afternoon. Claudia and I both felt the same frizzle of nerves. We couldn't wait for the remaining hours to zoom by so we could finally get to the party, but we also wanted them to drag so we'd have time to get everything done.

We worked through our checklist until 6:30, when I went upstairs to start getting myself ready. The plan was for me to beautify while Claude stayed on party prep. Trista, Ree-Ree, Kristie, and Gemma were coming over around 8:00, at which point Claudia planned to disappear upstairs both to get herself ready and to stay far away from Ree-Ree. Once the party was rolling, Claudia would slip downstairs, blend into the crowd, and enjoy.

"Oh my God, Cara," Claudia gaped when I joined her back in the kitchen. "You
are
Supreme Populazzi."

"You think?"

She pulled me into the dining room, with its floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and we both stared at my reflection. My dress had a close-fitted, gold-brocade tank top belted with a sleek, sparkly black miniskirt. I wore chunky black heels, but my hair was the ultimate accessory, hanging wild and free over my shoulders. My makeup was subtle but perfect.

Honestly? I looked hot.

"This is it, Cara..." Claudia said, and I finished her thought before she could say it: "The night everything changes." I led her back into the kitchen and poured us drinks so we could toast our success: Malibu rum and pineapple juice for me, club soda for her.

"Last time, we
attended
a Populazzi party; today you're
throwing
a Populazzi party," Claudia said.

"To the Ladder?" I offered.

"To the Ladder."

We clinked glasses as the doorbell rang. Claudia raced upstairs. The junior class Populazzi had arrived.

Once Claudia was out of sight, I let the girls in. They of course looked incredible. We all hugged and kissed like it had been ages, which it felt like it had.

"So, so CHIW, Cara," Trista said, taking in the scene from the foyer. "Show us everything."

I led them from room to room, basking in their awe. Gemma, Ree-Ree, and Kristie were especially impressed. They hadn't seen the house before, and I could tell they were doubly blown away by its decorated glory.

The first guests rang the bell at 8:15, fifteen minutes before the party was scheduled to start. Trista stopped me from letting them in.

"So uncool to show up early for a party. No one gets in until a half hour after it starts."

"But people are standing there," I said, peering through the peephole.

"Good. Then they'll be all primed and ready when we finally open the doors."

Trista had me turn up the music so people would hear it thrumming outside the house. She poured us all drinks, then had us enjoy them by the door, so all the guests outside would hear us talking and laughing and know they were in for a good time.

I felt bad leaving people out there, especially once eight thirty came and they were actually on time, but I trusted Trista. The four of us each had another drink, and at a quarter of nine, she had me turn the music even louder.

"Preshow time!" she screamed.

She pulled the drapes across the two living room windows, which faced out to the front yard. She pushed a floor lamp a couple feet behind each. "Who's doing the silhouette dance?"

Gemma and Ree-Ree jumped for it. They each stood between a lamp and a window and gyrated to the music. The crowd outside hooted and hollered, and Trista and I joined in the cheers. At one point I looked over my shoulder and saw Claudia peeking out from upstairs. She caught my eye and made a face at the grinding girls. I shrugged and laughed.

"Tagging out!" Gemma called.

"Really?" I asked as Ree-Ree dragged me to her old spot.

"It's your party, Cara!" Trista said. "You've got to work it!"

Trista herself was already working it, to what sounded like the delight of the crowd outside. I downed the rest of my drink in a single gulp of courage, so everything faded away except the music. I danced. I didn't even sense time passing, but suddenly Trista grabbed my hand, pulled me to the door, and shouted that it was "time to get this party started!"

At her nod, I threw open the front door, and people flooded in.

The biggest night of my high school career had officially begun.

I was still so dizzy and fuzzy from the dancing and the drinks that the stream of people blurred together. Trista greeted each one with a smile, sometimes a hug, a secret joke, a compliment, a quick anecdote, or an observation that let the person know he or she mattered, because Trista noticed something special about them. Once she was done, she sent each guest to me: "our hostess for the night."

While I'd been a master conversationalist leading up to the party, now that it was here, my go-to topic was moot. What was I supposed to say to a sea of people I barely knew? I ended up following Trista's mastery with "hello," "hi," or, if I was feeling particularly silver-tongued, "thanks for coming."

The line of partiers seemed endless. Once everyone was inside, the whole house vibrated with a million different voices.

"Congratulations." Trista smiled. "Your party's a success."

She wanted us to go down to the bar and meet our friends, but I said I'd catch up later. I wanted to walk through the whole party and see it in action for myself.

Every room was crammed with people. In the kitchen they chatted in clusters around trays of snacks. Out on the porch, they sat or leaned against the rail and talked as they took in the view of the lake, the flickering tiki lights dancing on their faces. Back inside, people sprawled in the family room, and in the living room they took a cue from our preshow and danced.

In the basement the noise roared even louder. This was the true crux of the party. Someone had turned on the Wii, and people gathered around to play or watch. The pool table was surrounded as well, but when I saw Eddie, I pushed through the crowd to wrap my arms around him.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey, Cara. Great party."

"Thanks. I worked really hard on it."

"Yeah, you did."

There was something in his voice I didn't like. I decided to ignore it. "Where are the girls?"

"Down there." He nodded to the pub. "While you're there, can you get me another bottle of beer?"

"Sure."

"Thanks." He gave me a quick kiss on the lips, then leaned over to line up his next shot.

The pub room was jammed. People sat two to a seat at the tables, and a knot of others agonized over the jukebox buttons. The dance floor was packed.

"Cara!" Trista squealed, and I turned to see her and Gemma dancing on the bar. Brett was playing bartender, and while I had always thought he seemed cool and distant, this was apparently his element. He took requests, but what he seemed to enjoy most was scrutinizing people, then offering them the perfect drink for their personalities. "You're a supercharged dude who's always amped, but when you kick it, you kick it hard-core. You need Hpnotiq and Red Bull."

Amazing—he was the Alcohol Psychic.

"Brett, hook this girl up!" Trista cried as I got to the bar. Brett covered his eyes with one hand, pointed around with the other, then stopped and opened his eyes. He grabbed the bottle he was pointing to, poured a shot, and slid it down the bar. It stopped right in front of me.

"What is it?" I asked him.

"Don't ask. It's perfect for you. Just drink it down."

Those were more words than he had said directly to me in my whole time as a Populazzi. I took them seriously and drank. The taste was hideous.

"It gets better later." Brett winked. "Trust me."

"Girlfriend, get your butt up on this bar and start dancing!" said Gemma. "This is your party. Grab the spotlight!"

With Brett's tonic working its way through me, I was ready. Trista and Gemma both reached out to help me up, but before I could make it, Trista let her arm go limp.

"Oh no, look!" She pointed at the pub tables. "No more pretzels!"

"I'll get more later," I said. But Trista said empty snack bowls were poor party protocol. And since I'm a sucker for both alliteration and Trista's hosting skills, I gathered the bowls to go refill them. Trista had Brett give me one more shot for the road. I grabbed a beer for Eddie and headed up to the pool table.

I was just wondering if Claudia had joined the party yet when I saw her. She was playing Dance Dance Revolution on the Wii with Ree-Ree while Marsh cheered them on.

My rib cage squeezed my lungs to nothing. I staggered closer. I hoped Brett's drinks were so strong I was hallucinating.

I wasn't.

"Claude?" I croaked. "Can I talk to you a second?"

"Now?" she asked, clearly unhappy about the idea.

I nodded.

"Okay. Marsh, wanna step in?"

"Sure!" He stood by Claudia's pad until they could time it perfectly: she jumped off, he jumped on, and they made the wand hand-off without Claudia's Mii missing a beat.

"What are you doing?" I hissed when I'd pulled her aside.

"Ree-Ree came up to
me!
She said she liked my dress, and we started talking. She's really nice."

"She's really nice" wasn't a common first response to Ree-Ree. This was weird.

"What about Marsh?" I asked. "I thought you weren't going to speak to him."

"Right, 'cause that wouldn't have been weird at all when Ree-Ree introduced us," Claudia said. "Fear not for the Ladder, Cara. Marsh and I both acted like we'd never met before. Ree-Ree has no idea. It's fine. We're having fun!"

Eddie wrapped me in a bear hug from behind and plucked his beer from my hand. "You are the
best girlfriend ever,
Cara!"

Claudia ran back to her game. "Outta the way, Marsh; I'm back in!"

"Ooh, are you filling those?" Eddie nodded to the pretzel bowls in my hand. " 'Cause we're almost out of chips and guac here, too."

Chips and guac. Poor party protocol. I grabbed the additional bowls and took everything upstairs. I stumbled on the way up and laughed so hard that I had to sit a minute on the steps. Brett's shots were working full force now, and I liked it. It helped me ignore the nagging sense of Very Not Good I'd had back with Claudia, Marsh, and Ree-Ree.

I got the snack bowls refilled, but it seemed like suddenly everyone needed something: more ice, more mixers, more candy, more nuts, more cheese, more dip...

"How are you not up here dancing yet?" Trista called down from the bar on one of my many trips to the pub room.

"I know! There's so much stuff to do; I feel like I haven't had a break!"

"Totally get it. That's hosting. But look at the result: the most CHIW-lacious party of the year! Brett, hook her up. Poor girl needs it bad."

Brett hooked me up with a shot of something colorful and fruity this time, and its fuzzy haze helped a lot. Running around filling and delivering is much more fun when you're buzzed enough to make it feel like you're dancing as you go.

Hours whizzed by like this, until suddenly it was very late and several guests—several Super LA guests—started leaving. That's when I realized I hadn't documented a single moment of the party! I grabbed my phone and put it in video mode, but I was way too wasted to shoot anything coherent. I just kept the camera on and cruised all around the house and out on the deck. I was a one-person reality TV crew, catching the action as it unfolded. Maybe someday I'd edit the footage and send it to MTV. It could start a hot new series:
High School House Party!
or maybe
House Party High!

As I stumbled/giggled/tripped down the stairs, I turned the camera on myself. "Testing, one-two-three-four-five-six-seven..."

I forgot what comes after seven.

I tripped and fell on the last step.

"Public service announcement," I said into the camera. "Don't drink and walk. Very dangerous."

I roamed through the pool room and the pub with the video running, zooming in for extreme close-ups of random people's anatomy.

"Ear cam!" Zoom to an ear.

"Nose cam!" Zoom to a nose.

"Drool cam!" Zoom in on someone fast asleep in a chair.

The close-ups were fun. I did a bunch more.

I turned the camera back on myself. "Super-spy video!" I whispered.

I wandered the rest of the basement, down the hall that branched into all the little nook areas. I softly hummed what sounded to me like spy music and stretched the camera into each nook. I didn't know if anyone was in them or not—it was mystery footage. That was how I finished each time. I'd pull my arm back and do an extreme close-up of my face as I whispered dramatically, "
Mystery footage!
"

I had my outstretched arm and camera in one of the nooks and was about to pull it back out when I heard weird noises.

Not weird. I recognized those noises! People making out! Reality show gold! I let the camera keep rolling awhile and worked hard to stifle my giggles. Then I got a great idea. I leaped into the room and flipped on the lights.

"
Boo!
Say cheese!"

"
OFF! TURN THATCAMERA OFF!
"

It was Trista's voice, so I automatically obeyed as she half scrambled/half fell off the lap of—whoa!—Seth Minkoff.
WHOA!
A strategically
undressed
Seth Minkoff!

"Oh my God!" I screamed.

"Shhhhh!" Trista hissed. "Turn out the lights!"

I did. "Trista, were you having sex with Seth Minkoff ?"

"Um, I can answer that," Seth said. "Yes. Yes, she was."

"Shut up!" Trista snapped.

"What? I'm proud."

"Trista!" I wailed. "Brett's right in the next room!"

"And I'd like him to
stay
there, so get the hell out and shut the hell up!"

I staggered out, dazed, but then I heard loud clapping from the pub room. I realized that was a smart place to be. Another one of Brett's psychic cocktails would be really good right now.