Page 95 of Life of the Party

“What is you do again?” She asked Grey after he complimented the steak.

“I’m a chef at the Red Wheat. That’s where Mackenzie and I met.” He explained.

“So you know a little about gourmet cooking?”

“Not exactly.” He laughed. “It’s a good restaurant, but it’s not gourmet. I don’t think I’ll be there too much longer, though.”

“Oh?” This piqued Dad’s interest enough for him to speak. “What will you do?”

“Well, sir, I’m hoping this record deal turns into something more profitable.”

“…You’re going to be a rock star? That’s your plan?” Dad scoffed. I frowned at my baby vegetables as I eavesdropped, biting my lip.

“I hope so,” Grey admitted shamelessly. “We’re pretty good. We’re working on our first album now.”

“Hmmm.” Mom pondered, condescending to join the conversation. “Isn’t it awfully hard to become a famous musician? What if it doesn’t work out?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t got that far yet.”

“You know, Jake Donovan, that’s Blake’s brother…” Mom motioned to him.

“Wait—Blake’s brother’s name is Jake?”

“Yes.”

Grey laughed in amusement. “Their names rhyme?”

I smiled to myself at his observation, a giggle escaping my lips.

“He’s a solid young man, that Jake,” Dad spoke up in his defence. “He’s only twenty years old and already an up-and-comer at his firm.”

“Really? What does he do?” Grey’s voice was polite, but completely uninterested.

“He’s in finance.” Mom burst excitedly. “Everyone’s talking about him.”

“Yes, he’s very successful for someone so young. Maybe you could talk to him. He might have an opportunity for you. Maybe a more…reliable career.” Dad offered.

I sat there, listening, remembering the day Marcy brought Blake home to meet my parents. They hadn’t acted anything like this; they’d practically rolled out the red carpet and placed a crown on his head. But now they couldn’t even treat Grey with a little common courtesy. Why? Because he wasn’t rich like Blake? Because he didn’t have a six-figure trust fund waiting in the wings? That sucked. I dropped my fork—giving up the entire eating façade—and looked over at Grey, an open apology written on my face. He was just sitting there, calm and cool and gorgeously handsome like always. I was completely amazed at his total composure.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll remember that.” Grey answered my father.

“Something to consider. Nothing wrong with respectable employment.”

“No, sir.” He agreed.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I leaned over the table and caught Grey’s eye, motioning towards the exit. He smirked and nodded, following as I got up from my seat and headed out of the room.

He met me just outside the hallway. Giggling, I took his hand and led him through the lavish lobby until I found exactly what I was looking for—a vacant, single-occupancy washroom just off the foyer.

Grey’s face was curious as I pulled him clandestinely into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. “What are we doing?” He wondered suggestively. I set my purse down on the thick stone counter and rummaged through it.

“This.” I held up my vial, triumphant.

His blue eyes lit up. “Why are we doing this?” He chuckled in surprise.

I smiled and scooped up the cocaine, rapidly inhaling it. I shut my eyes in relief and then handed the container to him with a shrug. “Because, fuck ‘em. That’s why.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Grey agreed, sniffing some blow quickly and handing it back to me. I did some more, sucking it back as deeply as I could muster. The happy, buzzing trembles overwhelmed me once again, and I felt normal, like I could finally think straight. I let out a happy, shaky sigh as Grey took some more.

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