Page 67 of Life of the Party

“I wasn’t really college material. I barely graduated high school.” Charlie chuckled. “I don’t know. Once upon a time, I knew what I wanted to do. Now…” She shrugged.

“If you ever did go to school for something, it should be this.” I motioned to myself. “Seriously. I think you’d do amazing. And that’d be fun, right?”

“Maybe. I mean, I’ve always liked doing it.”

“You totally should. I’d come to you, every time.”

“Thanks, Mac.”

The afternoon sped away, accelerated by the drugs as we sat in the warm kitchen of Charlie’s—soon to be our—house. It wasn’t long before she was finished doing my hair. Then she helped me out of my clothes and into my dress. Excitement churned in my stomach as she zipped me up. I couldn’t believe I was graduating.

Charlie stepped in front and looked me over, head to toe.

“Oh, Mackenzie. You look…,” she shook her head, “amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Come see.”

We giggled our way into the bedroom and I stood before the full-length mirror. Charlie had done it again. I did look amazing. My makeup was natural, nothing too bold or daring, totally tasteful. I had cheekbones again; I had to find out how she did that. My dark eyes were large and wide, lined just right to make them seem bigger and softer. My wide lips were coloured a nice, deep red; they shone with just the right amount of gloss. All of my hair was up, sleek and smooth in a voluminous glossy French twist; my bangs side-swept in an elegant style that perfectly suited my dress.

My dress. I was in love with my dress. I’d found it at a vintage shop in the city, and the moment I saw it, I had to have it. It was soft and black and strapless, with a snug-fitting pencil skirt that came just to my knees and a thick black belt that cinched tightly at the curve of my waist. It was very vintage sixties, very Audrey Hepburn. I looked totally different in it, totally grown up and mature.

I hugged my friend, squealing in delight, gazing in awe at my reflection in the mirror. I wondered what my mom would say—she’d vetoed the dress from the start, but maybe she’d change her mind when she saw me in it. (She’d preferred a frosted pink crinoline princess gown that made me shudder the moment I saw it.)

It was nearly time to go, but Charlie wasn’t in any rush. She cut a few more lines for us, and I did mine fervently, welcoming the extra boost of confidence. I lit a smoke and exhaled shakily.

“Shouldn’t we go now?” I couldn’t sit still, pent-up with the combination of cocaine and nervous expectation. I practiced walking in my black velvet pumps.

“Oh, yeah. We’ll go soon.” Charlie was putting lipstick on as I asked. She looked amazing, of course, in her frilly white dress. How she could wear white so much without ever spilling on it, I’d never understand.

I was starting to get antsy, waiting. Charlie kept stalling, glancing at the clock.

And then I heard it. It started as a deep rumbling somewhere off in the distance, the noise growing gradually louder as it came nearer. Eventually, the rumbling was right outside Charlie’s apartment, idling against the curb. My heart did a little flip as I recognized the sound. I looked over at Charlie in surprise.

“Right on time.” She confirmed.

I couldn’t believe it. The thought never even occurred to me. I grabbed my clutch and kissed Charlie on the cheek, nearly squealing with delight, making her laugh.

“See you there, Mac.” She called on my way out the door.

It seemed too good to be true, but it wasn’t. There he was, astride his motorcycle, flashing a grin at me as I stepped into the bright afternoon sunshine. I smiled back at him, taking the rickety stairs slowly, one at a time, until I was safely on the ground and walking confidently, ecstatically towards him.

Grey looked amazing. He wore dark jeans and black motorcycle boots with a crisp, white button-down shirt tucked in and rolled up at the sleeves. Overtop his shirt he had a black wool sweater vest with distorted white graphics, edgy and cool. His dark hair, albeit messy, was still styled carefully, spiky with gel. I could see myself reflected in his large, aviator sunglasses. My heart skipped a beat as I approached.

“Wow.” I smiled, touched by the effort. His white motorcycle practically sparkled; it was so clean. He took off his sunglasses, and the startling blue of his eyes nearly took my breath away. A smirk curved his lips as he looked me over—again and again—until finally he shook his head at me, as if in disbelief. A low whistle escaped his lips.

I giggled and did a twirl. “You like?” I wondered.

Grey grasped my hand and pulled me near. “I like.” He kissed me gently.

“You shaved.” I cupped his smooth, tanned cheek in my hand. “How did you—” I shook my head in happy amazement. “How did you know about this?”

He shrugged. “Charlie.”

“Charlie.” That explained everything.

Grey looked doubtfully at my high-heeled pumps. “Can you ride in those?” He chuckled, smiling at me as he put his sunglasses back on.

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