Authors: Kathy-Lynn Cross
He may have thought by tossing his jacket into the ring, he’d won the first round, but I was not going to the party with my happy face screwed on. The plan was to do what he suggested—hang with him, drink some beer—and if I nonchalantly set his jacket on fire while lighting a cigarette, I wondered if he would take it as a sign. When Tod was situated back in the truck, he pulled me into a side embrace and kissed the top of my head. The sigh I released took some of the hope I’d held onto with it.
A shadow knocked on my window one day.
I count and hide, but it continues to play.
It leaves questions in the corners of my mind.
Silently whispering answers I cannot find.
Desperation pushes me to numb my fears.
I drink the spirits to stop my tears.
It works to keep the shadow quiet.
By the window, it waits patiently in the moonlight.
~Alexcia
I kept quiet as we drove up to Krista’s two-story house.
Oh, wait. That’s the garage.
Great. I knew they had money, but the garage alone made my house look like one of the three little pigs had constructed it out of sticks and some borrowed bricks.
Although I wasn’t ready for this confrontation, I needed to get out of the space in this truck. I required a cup of something cold to drink and a burn of smoke to calm quivering lungs. Besides, I hadn’t really dressed for her kind of party but didn’t plan on sticking around very long either.
So, did it matter? Nope.
Tod turned the key off and stuck the ring in the front pocket of his jeans. He leaned into me, looking for some physical makeup time before heading to the presentation of Cirque de Fakes.
Ten to fifteen minutes later, Tod knocked on Krista’s front door. It swung open with a backdraft of
teen spirit
hitting us in the face. I wrapped his jacket around me for protection from any liquid mishaps of anyone’s inebriated greeting. The smell from a combination of liquors seeping from teenage pores as they mingled and danced to the live music made my nose scrunch up. That caused me to wonder if I smelled that way after a similar night like this. It would explain why, after a call and rescue, Ghost or Blakely would hose me down in perfume. Someone always forced breath mints and gum between clenched teeth before dumping my butt on the front lawn.
The guy who opened the door was tall and lean. I would guess him to be about twenty-two but still attempting to hold onto his high school years. He wore tight jeans and no shirt, which caused people to focus on the rainbow suspenders. It worked for him though and his humorous personality statement ascended up to broad shoulders, working as eye candy, depending on which way you followed the rainbows. My eyes roamed up to his chocolate-brown hair, adorned with plastered spikes, no acne, and a nice set of full lips… not that I was really looking. He smiled at me, causing my temperature to creep up a degree. Why? I had no idea. Both eyes averted to the floor, a nervous laugh escaped. He was wearing flip-flops and dressed like a new-age Mork from the eighties sitcom Mork and Mindy.
I watch a lot of late night TV Land.
In the midst of judging his attire, he made some type of welcoming hand gesture to Tod as he ushered us into the main hall.
The house was huge. A mini casino came to mind. Lights were out in a few of the side rooms, and the bedrooms were probably set up to be used as the hook-up rooms. But other opened rooms seemed to have lighting set on dim, giving me the feeling we were in the bat cave. I liked it in a twisted horror flick kind of way. The party was only missing the climatic ear-piercing note right before the impending doom. That thought reminded me to look for Krista.
Speaking of music, everyone was convulsing to a deep pulse bouncing off the walls. The room had probably been built to resemble an old-style ballroom but was converted to a mini concert hall. Tod put his hand on my tailbone to move me toward the dancing natives. Any minute, someone was going to toss me into the makeshift mosh pit and ask if I would be the next sacrifice.
The guy who had opened the front door did a disappearing/reappearing act. He held two clear plastic cups already producing condensation around the base. I took mine with an appreciative nod. No sense trying to converse over the percussion’s pounding beat. I smelled the cup. It was what I needed, so I happily gulped and realized I’d downed almost half the liquid. I’d be happier yet if I could only find a place to light up. While lifting the pack of cigarettes and smiling sheepishly, I tried to look cute.
Our host understood the implication and pointed me in the direction where I was allowed to smoke. My eyes readjusted to the darkness by focusing on an opening across the dance floor. I placed the pack back in Mom’s purse, met Tod’s eyes and mouthed that I would find him later. Pushing up the sleeves to his jacket, I made little side bumpers to protect myself against the mob of thrashing bodies before making the plunge.
Without a word, Mork grabbed my free hand and dragged me into the crowd. Jutting the plastic cup above me like a shark fin, we bumped, grinded, and laughed our way through the crowd. Hands firmly clasped were now starting to slip from sweaty palms, but he never let go of mine. For that, I was grateful.
We finally made it to our destination, and I took a deep breath of satisfaction. Upon lowering the drink, I hiked Mom’s purse securely onto my shoulder. After giving protector Mork a genuine smile of thanks, he nodded in reply. I turned away and pushed past two huge men standing by the open door like bouncers.
When I entered the kitchen, well, I thought it was the kitchen or maybe more like a diner, a ton of finger foods were neatly set out on different colored trays with glasses to match. Two sinks, dual ovens, a huge center island gas stove, with another small sink. The cabinets were stained a luscious cocoa bean color with retro silver and smoked light fixtures complementing the room. A gigantic polished silver and black Sub-Zero refrigerator sat like a waiting monster in the far left corner of the kitchen. On the other side, a long rectangular table made of the wood and stained the same as the kitchen cabinets filled the area.
Gently placing my plastic cup of salvation on the counter, I took a brief glimpse around the room and caught sight of the enemy as I lit the cigarette. A rather large crowd had encircled the table hootin’ and a hollerin’. The guys started drumming really fast on the table, and one of the girls slammed a shot of something blue. That was when the volume of the room soared as she pounded the glass, rim side down, on the table. Licking the back of her hand, portraying a cat removing milk from her fur, it roused a seductive inward purr of self-satisfaction from the group. Krista apparently noticed me and stood, maneuvering around the males, her sights set on me.
I cringed inwardly.
Great.
Just what I needed, a cat fight for everyone to see. How fitting. My dipstick was still a quart of beer too low for this confrontation to take place, so I clung to the Coach purse as a shield and took a slow drag off my cigarette. Mentally preparing myself for small talk, maybe if I exhaled the smoke, she’d get the hint I wasn’t interested in playing.
Strutting toward me, she wore nothing but a gold shimmering flap of material to cover her C cups. I thought it might be an attempt at a dress by how the two black rings linked together the top of the skirt. She was rocking slightly in her four-inch, Nine West Craftwork boots. Yeah, she was on her way to being primed for some unlucky guy tonight. Her eyes skimmed over my attire with disgust after she noticed Tod’s letterman jacket.
“Lay-Ceeee.” Her drunken slur made its way up my spine. “So glad you could come. Where’s Tod, you did come with him, right?” She looked past me to scan the room.
“Yeah, he’s here.” Glancing over my right shoulder, I hinted for her to go and find him herself. “Somewhere, if you can find him.”
“Oh, well, here’s a little info, Alex-Less. He’ll come looking for me, right after he kicks his trash to the curb or when he’s done playing with his stank rag doll. Word around is, you can’t keep your men. Is that true, little pet? You’re all talk and tease? How sad.” Narrowed red, rimmed eyes with the same cocoa bean color as the kitchen, zeroed in on mine. Did she match everything on purpose?
I took another drag, blew the smoke toward her face and jammed a pizza bagel into my mouth, to stop me from explaining to Krista how I planned to kill her after she passed out tonight. It would be real easy to hang out until the body succumbed to her alcohol intake and then toss her off the second story.
Drunken accidents happen all the time at parties like this, right?
I even had a statement all planned out. “She was trying to fly, officer. I tried to stop her, but she dove off before I could get to her.”
Sniff, sniff. Well, the sniffing would make it sound like I meant to save her.
She waved a hand in front of her face, moving it a little too close to mine. Invading my space was a serious faux pas. So, I stepped back to give her some room.
Sneering at me, she said, “You scared, kitten?” Then she took one step forward. The guys at the table were getting impatient and motioned for me to bring her back. I shook my head and gave the guy wearing black shades a classic eye roll. Krista thought I was responding to her. Sticking one of her manicured claws in my face, her voice cracked. “Quarters, right now. You win, I leave you and Tod alone. I win, well let’s just say, I will let you watch me treat him as a man should be.”
“Are you crazy? Could you really be that drunk? From what I was told, he broke it off with you long before I was in his life. Why don’t you let him decide? Oh… wait… he already did.” I grabbed her hand and turned it palm side up. Spitting on it, I placed my smoke right in the middle. It made a little
pssst
sound. “Thanks for taking care of that for me. I wouldn’t want to burn the pretty wood floor, now would I?”
She screamed and flicked her hand away, shaking the butt of the cigarette onto the floor.
Awe, too bad, but at least it’s not going to leave a burn mark.
I gulped the rest of the beer and started to push myself back through the thumping beat so I could find Tod.
I need to get the H-E double toothpicks out of here.
Not watching where I was going, I ran right into a blue cotton T-shirt. My gaze skimmed up to a familiar face and yet not. His eyes were blue and black, more black than blue. I took a step back to study his expression. Had I seen him before? His features were different from what I remembered, but I really tried to recall from where. He was tall, really tall, maybe six feet or even six two. His hair was dirty blond and the style seemed to fit his face. It was long on top but short around the sides. I could tell he used his long bangs as a shield, concealing him behind locks of hair so he could check everyone else out without getting too close. The shadows playing across his face was what probably gave his eyes such a dark appearance. But there was something about them working as a lure, trying to latch onto something from my past. It was buried so deep, even I couldn’t bring it to the surface. In defeat, I sighed as a small shock wave of déjà vu rippled through me. His hair and lips didn’t click with the foggy picture my mind was trying to reconstruct. My face twisted in frustration.
“Am I that bad? Damn, I really liked this shirt too.” He stared down at me while speaking in a playful manner. A wave of concern crashed over me as I assessed the huge, wet stain down the front of his shirt. Oh, crap. Did he say he liked the shirt he was wearing? In haste to find my so-called boyfriend, I had spilled his drink.
“I am so sorry. Please, what were you drinking? I’ll go and get you another one.” I grabbed some cocktail napkins from a girl’s drink tray and started to blot his wet, wounded shirt.
He stopped me. “How about a dance instead or maybe a drink and then a dance? Do you have a light? I can’t seem to find a lighter.” Was this guy for real? Wanting to dance, drink, and smoke? I sized him up. He wasn’t bad looking but something behind his eyes triggered my pulse to accelerate—not in an excited kind of way—more like if I said the wrong thing he’d kill me and leave me for dead kind of way.
Mr. Blue Shirt took a free hand, and immediately my heart ached from an overwhelming sense of loneliness. I hastily scanned the room for Tod. Once I locked on him, he would be my excuse to bow out of the dance. Blue Shirt escorted me to the middle of the dance floor as the beat became more of a hard rhythm chant. Guys were wrapping around their partners, drawing them close. I eyed this guy, waiting to see if he was going to do the same thing. Instead, he looked at me with hardened features and made my throat feel as though I had swallowed boiling coffee. The chill around me involuntarily caused the little hairs to stand straight up. Pretending to be nonchalant about the situation, I rubbed the top of both shoulders through Tod’s jacket to get back the warmth this guy’s atmosphere had stolen. As he eyed me from under his bangs with a Cheshire cat grin, I was picking up on his attitude.
What the hell was he thinking?
All of a sudden, I didn’t feel like dancing and used a hand gesture for a drink. He gave me a quick thumbs-up motion toward the kitchen. My shoulders slumped forward in a small sign of protest. I so did not want to go back there with him. One of the girls from the B squad held a tray of drinks, dancing and weaving in between sweaty bodies. I lunged for her arm, startled when she whipped the liquid goodies, almost spilling them. As they slid across the tray, I helped her out by saving the one closest to me before it fell. A fruity bite hit my nose, figured it was a Jell-O shot, so down it went. That’s when I noticed a disappointing noise coming from behind me.
Oh, my goshness. Judge much
. He pushed past me, then turned to grab the front zipper of Tod’s jacket. Astonished by his brash behavior, an inside voice asked, “Who is this guy?”