Page 31 of Life of the Party

“I wish there were another way, Mackenzie. I hope one day you’ll understand what I’m doing and why I have to do it. Maybe one day…you’ll even be proud of me.”

I shrugged in defeat. I didn’t fit into his life anymore. It would be easier for me to accept that, to quit hanging around, wishing and hoping and waiting for him to be friends again. I realized then—it wasn’t about him letting go of me. I had to do the letting go. I had to let him go and do whatever it was he needed. I would miss him dreadfully, but it was something I had to do. Something I could do.

“I don’t think we should be friends anymore.” The stream of words poured from my lips, quietly and quickly so I couldn’t stop them. Once they were out, I turned back to the window so I couldn’t see his reaction. I didn’t want to know. I would imagine my words hurt him, and he’d be sad to see me go. My hand gripped the door handle.

“If that’s what you want.” He acknowledged. His voice was soft…sorry, maybe? Regretful? Hadn’t he known all along this was inevitable?

I shook my head and opened the door.

“Mackenzie?” He called to me suddenly, just as I was about to leave.

I paused, taking the sudden opportunity to look him full on, to memorize the sweet face of my best friend. His dark hair was unkempt, as usual, his brown eyes wide and soft, his face endearing. I managed a smile because I did love him, in my way, and he would always be a part of my heart.

“I have to save myself, you know?” He sounded hopeless. “I’m sorry.”

I blinked a few times, hearing his words, and my smile began to shake.

“Goodbye, Riley.” I turned away then, before he could see me cry.

CHAPTER 14

“Wasn’t it worth it?” Grey had asked me that morning. By that evening, I’d changed my answer. No, it wasn’t worth it. I felt carsick sitting still. Charlie set another glass of water on the table and brushed my hair back from my face.

“You know what would help?” Her voice was low, meant only for my ears. I didn’t know, but whatever it was, I wanted it. I looked up into her lovely blue eyes.

“What?” The restaurant was dead—our supper rush had come and gone without us batting an eye, but that was helpful, given my condition. Sophie had just gone home, and Charlie and I were taking advantage of the situation, sitting and rolling cutlery at one of the tables.

Charlie rose, revealing her perfect figure painted into a long-sleeved, v-cut black dress, and grabbed her purse from the hooks in the station. After rummaging for a moment, she handed me a little pink and brown tin. “Go to the bathroom.”

“Uh…okay.” I took the tin from her, puzzled. She giggled.

“You’ll know once you’re there.”

I headed slowly down the brown brick hallway, shivering at the temperature change. The girls’ bathroom was empty, eerily quiet but for a dripping faucet along the sinks.

I opened the tin and immediately understood. There were a few things in it, rolling papers, a lighter, some roaches, a vial of cocaine…

At first, I wondered how something that made me feel so rotten could possibly help, but then I was too excited to care. I took it all into a bathroom stall, unscrewed the vial very carefully, and placed a tiny amount of powder on the end of the scoop.Pinching closed my other nostril, I took the cocaine quickly, almost expertly. After that, I did one more on the other side, just to make it even.

The feeling took me quickly, like it had the night before. I sat in near instant relief, a smile flitting to my face as the good feelings spread. It worked. Headache, nausea…gone. I felt like a new woman, energized, recharged. Full of life and joy again.

A totally different person joined Charlie back at the table. She noticed immediately.

“Told you.” She laughed.

“Wow, what a difference.” I laughed with her. “How do you keep from doing it, all day, every day? It’s so good!” I lowered my voice for that last part.

“I don’t know…self-control, I guess. The more you do it, the less you feel it. Remember that.”

“Do you do it very often?” I handed her back the tin, which she quickly replaced in her purse.

“I try to keep it for special occasions,” she admitted. “But sometimes it’s helpful in a pinch. Like tonight.”

“Wow, Charlie. I think I’m in love with you.” I smiled.

“Me too, Mac.” Charlie laughed, her blond curls shaking. “Now, tell me about your night…”

After the deadest shift in history—and a few more trips to the bathroom for each of us—Charlie shut the OPEN sign off with great excitement. We lit a smoke, nearly synchronized, and laughed. The kitchen staff were out front already, and we talked and joked together. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know them. Cocaine gave me such courage, such confidence that I could approach complete strangers and strike up a conversation, have them laughing before the end. I loved it.

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