Page 114 of Life of the Party

“Yeah.” She sniffed doubtfully.

“No, I mean it. You’re way too beautiful to waste tears on a loser like him.”

Charlie smiled weakly, her blue eyes full of emotion as she cast them up at me. “Why are you being so nice to me, Mac? I’ve been terrible to you.”

“A huge bitch, yes.” I smiled. “It doesn’t matter. You know I love you.”

Charlie managed a laugh, sniffling loudly. “I should be used to this by now.”

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated. I wasn’t sure what she meant, and I didn’t know what else to say. She leaned her head against my shoulder. Despite Charlie’s sorrow, I couldn’t help but feel happy we were friends again. I wanted nothing more than to help relieve her pain, to help her forget everything, to help her forget all about Zack…

A wicked, horribly tempting idea crossed my mind. I sat up, excitement coursing through my veins at just the thought, and glanced down at Charlie, beaming impishly.

“Charlie, I have the perfect thing, something I know will cheer you up.”

“Oh yeah?” She replied doubtfully. “What’s that?”

“Heroin.”

“Heroin?” That sparked some interest in her dull blue eyes. “What? Where’d that come from?”

“I did some on the weekend,” I remembered fondly. “Trust me, nothing on earth will ever make you feel better. It feels so good. I can’t even describe it.”

That intrigued her, I could tell. “Really? But…where would we get some?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you might know somebody.”

“I don’t.” She frowned a moment, but then her eyes lit up with an idea. “I bet Courtney would. Let’s go ask her.”

“Okay.” I smiled eagerly.

It felt like old times again as Charlie and I—swept away with anticipation and the age-old desire to get as wrecked as we possibly could—hurriedly readied ourselves and trounced down the old wooden steps, giggling as we headed for Courtney’s idling car.

CHAPTER 47

Courtney was really pretty. Not Charlie pretty, but pretty in her own punky, perky way. She had dark short hair, straightened, with bold chunks of blonde and red throughout. Her wide almond eyes were lined heavily with black liner, her lips smiled with blood-red lipstick.

She was a waitress at the Aurora. She had this experienced, bored aura about her, like she’d seen everything and been everywhere and tried everything at least once.

Courtney barely batted an eye when we asked for heroin, just threw her car into gear and started driving, tearing through the streets, chain-smoking and swearing a lot. She knew someone in town that could hook us up and was taking us straight there.

I was amazed. I figured our little town was too small, too innocent for heroin.

We stopped in front of a small, decrepit old house, the saggy entryway lit by a dim, failing bulb. Charlie and I eyed the exterior, nervous as Courtney got out of the car.

“I’ll go talk to him, and if he’s cool with it, you can come inside.” She explained.

I nodded silently, my eyes wide. I wasn’t usually involved with dealers and I didn’t really want to be…but I didn’t want to argue with her, either.

Charlie and I watched as Courtney ambled up the crumbling sidewalk and paused at the entry, the dim light casting over her little figure. It took a few seconds before she was let in—a single hand pushed the door open, and she was swallowed up inside.

We glanced at each other silently. I bit my lip. I didn’t know what it was about the situation that made me feel so sketchy, but it seemed to havedangerwritten all over it.

Courtney reappeared in the doorway and waved us in. I really didn’t want to go, but as Charlie clicked her seatbelt off and opened the car door, I found myself followingher. We were ushered silently into the little house, hit by a wave of heat and stranger-smell as we trailed behind Courtney into a tiny living room off the main entrance.

I was anxious. Part of me wanted to get away, to run right out the door and keep on running until I felt safe again. My heart was beating loudly in my chest. The other part of me—the part that wanted the heroin—was more than willing to stay, to sit with the sweaty, shifty-eyed men that occupied the dim, hot little room as we waited for one of them to get us our stuff. I didn’t look at them, I didn’t look at anything but my sweaty hands in my lap. I didn’t want any recollection of that place and how…dirty it made me feel.

Thankfully, Charlie was beside me. She seemed calm, anyway, which was comforting. Neither of us were brave enough to speak to the other. I could feel sweat trickling down my back, pooling in my palms, but I was too afraid to move, too scared to even wipe my hands down my jeans, too frightened to bring any kind of attention to myself. I wished fervently for Grey.

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