Page 89 of Life of the Party

How could Grey be worried when he didn’t care enough to call?

A few nights later, I discovered a solution to my problem. I wanted to hear from Grey, but he wasn’t calling. The answer was simple, really.

I was just going to have to call him.

I had to work up the nerve for some reason. I felt stupid, sneaking off to my room with my phone while Charlie was in the shower. I had a feeling she wouldn’t approve, but I just had to do it. I was past the point of trying to play it cool. I knew the moment I heard Grey’s voice it would totally set my mind at ease.

I took a deep breath, shut my eyes, and dialled his number, lighting a smoke, nervous as the phone rang in my ear. It rang and rang, and I was just about to give up, disappointed—when finally he answered

“Hello?” There it was, his lovely, velvety low voice.

“Hey,” I greeted, almost giddily.

“…I can’t hear you.”

“Grey? Hello, can you hear me?” I plugged my other ear. It was noisy on his end—the loud pulsating beat of techno music and numerous voices jabbering away in the background, I couldn’t tell who they were in the din.

“Are you there? Hello?”

“Grey? Grey, I’m here. Hello?” I walked towards the window. Maybe I was getting bad reception or something, but I could hear him fine. He was muttering to himself, maybe trying to make his phone work; I didn’t know. I was about to giggle at his muffled swearing, but then I heard it.

“Grey, baby.” Said a female voice, one I didn’t recognize but instantly hated. “Get off the phone. You promised to dance with me, remember?”

He laughed. “Yeah, okay. I’m coming.”

I didn’t hear anymore. I dropped the phone, and it landed with a thud, bouncing across my carpeted floor.

I stood, struck, like I’d been slapped in the face or punched in the stomach. I was shell-shocked, stunned. I stared at the phone in horror and clutched at my chest, my stomach plummeting somewhere down towards my toes, my heart beating loudly in my ears.

“He’s going to hurt you, Mackenzie.”Suddenly, Riley’s voice invaded my mind, stabbing into my already wounded psyche. I hadn’t thought about him in months, but there was no mistaking the unexpected sound in my memory.“I know his type,”he’d said,“I know what he’s like. He’ll hurt you, in the end.”

I didn’t even allow myself to think about it. I couldn’t. Frantically almost, trying to outrun the heartbreak striving to catch up with me, I threw on some different clothes and pulled my hair roughly into a ponytail.

“Charlie!” I yelled—my voice bordered screeching. “Put some clothes on. We’re going out!”

I left my room without looking back, my cell phone abandoned on the floor.

CHAPTER 36

I can honestly say I have almost no recollection of the weeks and days that followed. I wouldn’t allow myself to be sober enough to let my mind work properly. At work, I screwed up orders and dropped plates and walked around with glazed-over eyes, buzzed and foggy, but still made enough to fuel our binge. Under Charlie’s tutelage, my skirts got shorter, my tops got lower, my heels higher—and my tip cup fuller.

At the end of every night, I would gather my earnings and hand them over to her—my source—who would, in turn, procure whatever drug she felt I might like to try. I don’t know where she went or how she got them, I preferred not to know. But I was more than eager to do whatever she brought home for me.

She’d get pills, and powders, and rocks for us to try, and then we’d go to the club, drinking and dancing. Guys would hit on us, which felt good, but sometimes they’d get too friendly, too persistent, and I’d barely remember myself in time before doing something totally regretful. I was so mind-breakingly stoned it was nearly impossible not to have a good time, nearly impossible not to forget. I was being stupid and dangerous, but I didn’t care. Grey wanted me to be careful, so I rebelled, being as reckless as I could.

I almost wanted something bad to happen. Then, maybe he’d remember me.

We kept this up until Charlie reminded me, somewhat painfully one morning, that I had to sober up for Marcy’s wedding. I didn’t want to, I craved the numbness I’d depended on and dreaded what would come once normal thoughts were allowed to form again. But Charlie forced me. She dragged me into the shower and sat me down afterward to do my hair and makeup. I was complacent for the most part, blinking stupidly in the mirror while she fixed me up. On the outside, anyway.

My insides were beyond her repair.

Charlie drove me into the city so I wouldn’t be forced to ride with my parents. I stared out the window as we drove, my eyes darting over the colourful blanket of prairie fields stretching out towards the horizon, feeling more and more like myself as I sobered up. But with it, just like I’d expected, came a world of hurt. With it came remembering Grey had completely forgotten about me.

“Charlie?” My voice was faint.

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“Thank you for coming with me.” I looked at my friend, her pretty blonde hair tumbling down her back, wide-lens sunglasses perched on her nose.

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