CHAPTER 11
“This way, Mr. Lewis.” A server appeared from nowhere and motioned for us to follow. “The rest of your party has already arrived.”
We followed the waitress, who led us up the staircase. The top floor was full of circular tables surrounded by more tall plastic chairs, impossibly tall-backed booths lined the walls, and all of them were full. The tables were made to mimic the dance floor. There was a bar for every wall but one, the back wall the server was leading us to. She pushed back a nearly indiscernible curtain that opened to reveal another staircase, this one much smaller than the first. Above us was another floor, similar to the one below. There were no single tables, only the larger, tall-backed booths about twice the size of the usual. Each was up on a platform, closed in by a curtain surrounding it.
“VIP?” I asked him.
“Nothing but.” Grey chuckled. We ushered in through the curtain to join the people already there, seated around the back of the booth. The lights were dim, which I liked. The tabletop was like the others, clear Plexi over lights, the cushions upholstered in soft black and white vinyl.
Grey introduced me to the rest of the band before we sat. Jimmy was the one with dark black hair cut short in a faux-hawk, smiling politely. Tom and Lucas were brothers, they shared the same shaggy brown hair and large, bushy eyebrows.
“Bass, keys, and our manager,” Grey explained.
We squeezed into the booth, Grey on one side of me, Charlie on the other. I was thankful to be past the scrutiny, to sit and relax. I lit a smoke. Grey was talking to Alex on the other side of him. I heard someone order champagne for everybody, and my eyebrows raised again. Was this how they always partied? How could they afford it?
A lady came around with hand-blown crystal flutes, filling them halfway with sparkling, honey-coloured champagne. I looked around, but nobody was drinking theirs. It was like they were waiting for something.
After a few minutes, Tom called us to attention. The talk quieted around us as he raised his glass in the air.
“Tonight, a celebration.” He smiled around the group. “Tonight, a first. I am honoured, and delighted, and proud to be a part of this ride with you all. Here’s to your success, gentlemen, and to your future. It’s sure to be bright. Congratulations.”
“Fuck yeah!” Zack shouted. Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses together, laughing happily. I watched them in confusion. Though it was dim in the room, apparently, I was the only one completely in the dark.
“Um…Congratulations for what?” I whispered to Grey. He turned to me, his blue eyes alight with happiness, the impact of them taking my breath away. He laughed loudly.
“Our band was signed.” He explained. He clinked his glass to mine.
“Signed? Like, with a label?”
“Yeah. We’re going to record our first album soon.”
“What? That’s so amazing.” I exclaimed. “We should celebrate!”
“That’s the idea.” He chuckled.
Our eyes met, and we smiled at each other, downing the sharp, cold, bubbly.
After that, we ordered more drinks, preparing to really party. I chugged my whiskey almost as soon as it came, trying to stay buzzed. Grey watched me take one last gulp and smiled.
“That’s impressive, but really not necessary.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because.” He grinned wickedly, looked around, and passed me a hand mirror from the other side of him. There were two smudgy lines reflected on the glass, and I could see my face looking down on them—could see the confusion, the comprehension, and then the anxiety that overtook my reflected expression.
Cocaine. Grey was offering me cocaine.
“I promised you a good time, didn’t I? ”
My stomach did a little flip. Cocaine was always something I avoided. I didn’t really know why, but it was on the other side of the line I’d drawn for myself. The stupid line. I’d never had an interest.
“If you don’t want to, it’s no big deal. Just pass it on.” Grey spoke softly.
“No. I want to.” I decided. Of course I would do it. It was no different than Ex or mush or weed, just another means to a desirable end. And I wanted that end. I wanted to be higher than I’d ever been before. I smiled at Grey.
“I don’t know how.” I giggled, ashamed.
“Just pinch your other nostril shut.” He leaned in close to me, explaining under his breath. He handed me a rolled-up twenty-dollar bill. “Then suck it in with this, and chase the line.”
“From the mirror?”
He nodded. My heart beat convulsively in my chest, I was so nervous.
“Don’t make fun of me.” I pleaded. Grey laughed.
“I won’t. Look, no one’s even watching. Just don’t blow out, whatever you do. I promise you’ll love it.”
“I will?”
He nodded again. That was it for me. Sold.
I leaned over and did it the way Grey said. I sucked in quickly and moved the bill down the line. Then I straightened up, sniffing, feeling an immediate burn in my sinuses. I sniffed and sniffed, rubbing at my septum, and pushed the mirror towards Charlie. Grey laughed, watching me.
“What do you think?” He wondered. I looked at him and honestly felt no different. Just that my nose was on fire.
“I…I don’t…” I was about to say, “feel anything,” but was suddenly unable to speak.
Because I did feel something. I felt amazing. I looked at Grey with wonder. My hands were shaking and I felt so good I wanted to cry. I can’t even describe the euphoria that flooded over me, the total and complete joy and contentment that became mine in that instant. I was physically numb but mentally clear, completely awake and alert. Totally confident.
I looked at Grey and smiled, buzzing.
“Wow…it’s just so, and I never realized it was like this. Is it always like this? Did you do some? Do you feel the same? Can we do some more?” I was whispering. He laughed, hard, like I’d said something outrageously hilarious. I wasn’t even worried he was laughing at me. How could he be? I was so awesome at that moment .
The mirror was passed around a few more times, clandestinely. Grey showed me how to pull my forehead back afterwards and inhale sharply to get better absorption.
He was right. I loved it, more than anything I’d ever tried.
After a few more lines, I wasn’t content to sit anymore. I grabbed Charlie’s hand and we went to the washroom, then to the shooter bar, then back to the booth, then back to the washroom, gabbing the entire time. Neither of us could talk fast enough or run out of things to say. Everything we said was so profound, so right on. My entire body was humming; I could feel my heart beating rapidly.
Then, I felt something else. In my mouth was a sudden, terrible, horrible taste. I made a face and put my hand over my lips as I slid back into the booth.
Grey noticed my grimace as I sat next to him. “Does it taste like hairspray?”
I nodded in disgust, my hand still over my mouth.
“Try to swallow it. It’s just the coke. Back drip.” He explained.
“Lovely.”
“Want some more?”
“Yes.”
Of course I did. I didn’t want that feeling to ever end.
Grey and I sat, almost completely by ourselves as the others dispersed, some to go dance, some to get drinks. I leaned comfortably against him and we shared another mirror or two. His arm rested loosely around my waist, his hand warm. He smelled so good.
“Do we have to get you back anytime…curfew or anything?” He asked, his voice a deep rumble in my ear. I lit my eightieth smoke and blew it out in a laugh.
“Hardly. My mom works nights; my dad’s away. They’ll never notice I’m gone.”
“Well, maybe I’ll just keep you, then.”
“Sounds good to me.” I agreed.
I was content to sit with Grey beside me, but nothing could stop the uncontrollable chatter that poured from my lips. From our lips. Thankfully, Grey had done his share of cocaine too, and we talked, and talked, our words not coming fast enough for the thoughts that drove them.
“Tell me more about your band being signed. How did it happen? What does it mean?” I leaned forward and took a drink, my mouth bitterly dry .
He chuckled at my ignorance, “Basically, we have a contract with a record company. They put out the CD and set up a tour and do the marketing and everything. We just sit back, and make music.” He grinned widely. “Which is really the best part.”
“How do you do it? I mean, how do you write the songs?”
“Zack and I write them. The melodies just come to me. Sometimes, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night, and I just have it, and have to get it down. Zack helps a ton, he can think of wicked parts for guitars and layering and stuff.”
“That’s amazing.”
“I write the lyrics, too. Sometimes it’s hard, but most the time they just write themselves, like certain melodies were made for certain words, certain moods.”
“Wait.” I put my drink down and stared at Grey, baffled. “So, not only do you write the music and play the music and sing the songs, you write the lyrics too? How is that possible?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged, humbly. “It’s just, easy for me. A lot of the time I can say things in songs that I…can’t say otherwise. Like an outlet, I guess.”
“Wow. How long have you been playing?”
“I started guitar when I was…seven, I think? If you think I’m crazy, Zack can play every instrument we have on stage. He even plays the saxophone and shit.”
“That’s so impressive.” I shook my head seriously. “I mean it. You guys are very talented. Soon, you’ll be so famous you won’t remember the rest of us.”
“I doubt that.” Grey chuckled. “Some of you are pretty unforgettable.”
He looked at me when he said that, his blue eyes twinkling, his lips curved handsomely. I gave him a glorious smile.
“Oh yeah?” My voice was a whisper. He nodded, and I felt his hand on my hip, hard and firm as he slowly pulled me closer. My poor heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings. With his other hand, dark and tan and warm, Grey tilted my chin up, pulling my face toward his until the inevitable moment—slow in coming—that our lips finally touched.
The kiss jolted me. The parts of me previously coke-numb were suddenly on fire. His lips pressed against mine, softly at first, then with growing intensity. He tasted amazing. I twisted in his arms so I was facing him, my hands lifted to the back of his neck, my fingers twirled in his hair.
We kissed. We kissed as we had talked—compulsively, thoroughly, irrepressibly. I pressed myself against him, delighting in the warmth of his hands on my back, my waist, stroking my arms, my neck…tangling in my hair …
His kiss was better than coke.
“Tell me, Mackenzie,” he breathed, a few heavy moments later. I didn’t answer, but opened my eyes to acknowledge him. His gaze fell to my lips.
“Who was it that made you sad earlier?” He kissed me again.
I frowned. I couldn’t remember…it didn’t matter.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m not sad anymore.” I whispered. I could feel Grey’s lips smile against mine. And then we were kissing again.