Life of the Party (Wayward #1)

CHAPTER 10

Hurriedly, I wiped up the waitress station while Grey worked behind the counter, 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 sweater, and puzzled. Charlie giggled.

“For tonight, silly. You’re coming to my house so I can 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. There was no competition between Charlie and I. She’d win hands down.

My excitement began to drain, spiralling downward. 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.

“You know, Zack, the guitar player? We’re together. ”

“Really? You are?” I exclaimed suddenly, her words alleviating all my worries. My anticipation surged again, stronger than ever. Grey didn’t want her! I giggled excitedly as we climbed into her car. “I can’t wait. This is going to be great.”

“I know!” Charlie laughed and lit a smoke. She threw her little sedan into reverse and then punched it when we were the right way around. We rolled the windows down and let the night air wash over us, racing through the empty, quiet streets. Slipknot blared through her speakers; the music lost somewhere behind us in the calm night air, the dull thumping bass of her stereo wafting down the streets.

This was it. This was living. This was exactly where I wanted to be.

Charlie lived in a quiet, dark part of town, where the buildings were older, needing paint in a bad way. The trailer park where Riley lived was not far from us, and I glanced sadly in that direction.

“Come on, Mackenzie!” Charlie smiled and raced up a set of wooden stairs, grey with age. They squeaked and groaned in protest. I turned from my sudden melancholy and followed her, taking the stairs more gingerly than she had, not trusting them with my weight. She fought with the saggy doorknob and flicked a light on once inside.

I stepped into the entryway behind her and surveyed the little house.

It was older, apparent in the gold plastic trimmings and light fixtures, the odd cream-coloured light-switch plates, the threadbare carpeting and cracked linoleum. She managed to make it cozy and welcoming—the walls repainted a warm green, candles covering nearly every available surface, blankets and pillows adorning the older, second-hand furniture.

I liked it immediately.

Charlie swept in, throwing her bag on the kitchen counter, her coat on the chair in the living room, flicking on lights as she went. I followed her into her small bedroom, sitting on her unmade bed as she rushed around, opening dresser drawers and rummaging through the closet.

“Do you live here by yourself?” I wondered, sitting cross-legged on the bed, getting out my supplies so I could roll us a joint.

“No, I have a roommate. Katrina. She’s got the bedroom at the end of the hall.” Charlie made a face, throwing some clothes on the bed beside me.

“You don’t seem pleased.” I noticed.

“Kat’s kind of a pain in the ass. I’m thinking of kicking her out.”

“Really? Why? ”

Charlie stepped over to the CD player and pressed play. The room was instantly flooded with 311, loud. She smiled and came to sit next to me. “Just roommate stuff.”

“I like your house.” I licked the joint and handed it to her.

“Thanks.” Charlie lit the joint, puffing away until the end was smoking. She sucked in and held her breath, passing it back to me. “Okay, let’s get to work.”

We changed in her room—she into a tight, pink, sleeveless dress, and I into a pair of silvery-studded blue jeans and a tiny, silver halter-top. I took a glance in her full-length mirror, impressed. The silver top was a little low. It showed some good cleavage, hinting nicely at my breasts beneath, something I wasn’t used to. The rest of the shirt flowed smoothly down my tight abdomen, barely meeting the jeans that rested snugly on my hips.

“Hot,” Charlie decided. I handed her the joint, and she sat me down on the bed, pulling over a large makeup kit and starting on my face.

“No, you’re hot,” I argued. She was, she could’ve been a runway model, her dress fit her so perfectly. Charlie shrugged and smiled.

“Just wait until I’m done with you.” She promised.

I shook my head. We had less than half an hour. Not near enough time for a miracle.

I wasn’t really paying attention to what Charlie was doing. I was nicely high by that point, content, happy. She began drawing around my eyes with a pencil, her hands soft and cool.

“How old are you?” I asked her suddenly.

Charlie smiled. “Nineteen. Just turned. You?”

“Seventeen,” I admitted morosely. Everyone was older than me. “Do you think I’m too young?”

“Too young?” Charlie thought a moment. “Quit squinting. No, you’re not too young for this crowd, that’s for sure.”

“Why?”

“Honey, if anyone gives you any flak for your age, it’s only because they’re jealous. They wish they still had your excuse to act the way they do.”

“They wish they were still seventeen?”

Charlie nodded. “It’s easier to get away with it all when you’re that young. You are expected to become responsible at some point, you know.” She leaned back and surveyed my face. “There, all done.”

“Thanks.” I got up and looked in the mirror, stunned, wishing now I’d paid attention to whatever Charlie did. It didn’t look like me, staring back at me. This girl had cheekbones and large, dark eyes—smouldering eyes—deep, full red lips.

I gazed at Charlie in surprise.

“Told you.” She shrugged and started on her own face. I was amazed. I did look hot, and older, too. I liked that a lot.

We primped and preened. I pulled my hair into a glossy ponytail while Charlie shook out her blond curls and put on her tight black knee-high boots. She lent me some distressed silver-black heels, high and pretty, with a closed toe.

I couldn’t believe how good I looked. I didn’t want to be vain, but couldn’t help staring at myself in the mirror. Charlie noticed and began to giggle at me. I laughed, too, a mixture of weed and excitement and complete disbelief. This was going to be a great night. I lit a smoke and tried to calm my nerves.

“I think they’re here,” Charlie exclaimed a few moments later, as the dim noise of a car horn caught our attention. I looked at her desperately, suddenly terrified.

She rolled her eyes and smiled at me.“Relax. He’s not going to know what hit him.”

Somehow I made it down the stairs and to the car. I felt young again, like a tagalong, trailing behind Charlie like a little sister. It made me angry at myself, and I took a breath, willing myself to be brave and more confident.

“Hey.” I recognized his voice before I saw him. A smile lit my face, and suddenly, I wasn’t nervous anymore. Suddenly, it all felt fairly natural, apart from the excited, ramped-up beating of my heart. Grey stood before me then, next to the opened car door, and smiled as he took in my appearance.

“Mackenzie,” was all he said, but I could tell he approved. His blue eyes were darker, gleaming, his face freshly smooth from shaving. A hint of a grin curled his lips, almost a smirk, smug. He had on dark blue jeans and a tight black shirt—I could see his muscles hard against the fabric. If I’ve ever come close to swooning, it was then.

Grey gently pushed an errant dark curl off my shoulder, his fingers brushing my collarbone as he did so. I shivered delightfully. He held the door open and motioned for me to get in. I slid into the middle of the seat, squeezing up close to Alex—the other passenger—as Grey got in beside me. His thigh pressed against mine as he settled himself in, his cologne wafting toward me. Making me dizzy.

Charlie was already in the front passenger seat. Zack shut her door and walked around the front of the car, getting in to drive. His reflection in the rearview mirror showed blonde mullety hair and a lean, handsome face. Multiple piercings hung from numerous places, and both his arms sported full sleeves of colourful tattoos.

We adjusted in our close quarters. Grey rested his arm along the top of the seat, not quite hugging me, but I could feel the warmth of his skin along the back of my neck.

“Mackenzie—Alex, and Zack.” Grey introduced. I smiled at them both.

“Nice to meet you.”

Alex nodded. He was slim, with a winning smile, handsome face, and longer, sandy-blonde hair. I could tell right away he was a ton of fun.

It was loud and rowdy in the car. “Moon Baby” by Godsmack was deafening us through the speakers; a dizzying combination of weed and rum being passed around. Eagerly I joined in, taking hit after hit, gulping the booze back with barely a grimace.

Grey watched me, his lips curling in amusement as I swallowed the rum down. “How are you feeling now?” He asked, lowering his mouth wonderfully close to my ear to be heard, giving me delicious shivers, my skin goosebumps.

“Unbelievable.” I breathed.

“Just you wait. This is nothing.” He promised, lifting a hand to play with the curls of my ponytail. I was in heaven.

“Where are we going? What are we—?”

“You’ll see.” His hand moved from my hair, his fingers slowly tracing a trail down my neck, then up again. “By the way…you look amazing.”

I blushed. “I do?”

“You know you do.” His voice was lower, guttural. I smiled.

“Thanks.” The feel of his fingers was addictive. My heart began to beat harder at his touch, however slight. I clenched my hands against my legs. Grey chuckled and stopped, placing his hand back against the seat, allowing me to catch my breath—but I missed his fingers the moment they lifted. I bit my lip and tried to calm myself.

Soon we could make out city lights on the horizon. Alex cheered. I laughed, fairly wasted already from just the drive, never mind what was happening later. The talk and laughter was rowdy and lively inside the car. Alex and Grey were arguing about some bands I’d never heard of; Charlie was trying to regale me with a work story from the front seat. Zack would throw a few words into the band conversation. We weaved through the city traffic, the street lamps lighting the interior of the car as we passed beneath them .

Finally, we pulled into a parking lot filled with vehicles. I looked out the window in interest. The only thing that made sense to my poor, befuddled brain was a neon sign perched atop a brick building.

It said “The Drink” in large green letters, with a martini angled off the side.

“We’re going to a club?” I asked Grey excitedly. “But I’m not old enough—”

“Leave that to me. Come on.” He opened the door and helped me out. As soon as I stood up, I nearly fell over. I hadn’t expected to be so wasted; it took me by surprise. Grey laughed and steadied me.

“You okay?” His hands were warm on my bare arms.

“Yeah.” I laughed happily. Better than okay. Great, wonderful…ecstatic.

“Come on.” Grey took my hand in his and pulled me towards the entrance. Alex and Zack and Charlie were walking ahead of us. As we turned the corner, I was amazed to see the long line of people waiting to get into the club. It stretched nearly the entire block. I looked up at Grey but he didn’t seem disappointed, like he hadn’t anticipated a wait at all.

I soon understood why. When the two large, intimidating men at the entrance saw us coming, they immediately pulled back the rope and let us all through. Grey spoke with them briefly—I didn’t hear the conversation, but I noticed they called him Mr. Lewis. I raised my eyebrows at the VIP treatment and smiled.

“I didn’t know your last name was Lewis.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Grey smirked. He grasped my hand again and we made our way inside. I looked around; this club was nothing like the Aurora at home. Modern and new, the décor was mostly black and white, with splashes of vibrant blues and greens and oranges in just the right places. The main floor was dedicated almost entirely to the dance floor, clear Plexiglas atop swirls of fluorescent colour, surrounded by tall white and black plastic chairs. A shooter bar flanked the left side, and a large spiral staircase took up most of the right. The place was packed, the music thumped over the noisy din.