Page 89 of Severance

“I didn’t think you’d be here. How are you?” The girl’s eyes shift to me, and she flashes me a huge smile. “Hi. I’m Casey.”

“Alana.” I nod, feeling conflicted and slightly jealous. Of course my boyfriend knows other girls. They’re his friends. I just haven’t figured out how to deal with it yet. I’ve never dated a rock singer before.

Dakota wraps his arms around me and presses his cheek to mine for a second. “That’s my girl.” Sensing he’s going overboard with all the mushiness in front of his friend, I make a mental note to start watching his alcohol intake and possibly attempt to stop him from drinking.

“He’s an adorable drunk.” Casey winks at me. “Just make sure he doesn’t mix liquor with beer or you’ll have to call the National Guard.”

“Is he that bad?” I laugh a little, feeling at ease now.

“He thinks he’s Superman when he mixes.”

“Are you two talking about me?” Dakota asks, tightening his grip on me.

“We are,” Casey says, grabbing a clean glass. “Make sure you behave.”

We chat some more, mainly about Casey’s band. Apparently, she and Dakota used to have a side project together but couldn’t commit to it seriously. Then some people express their displeasure with us blocking the bar, so we move to the living room.

Dakota’s in the middle of telling Casey about his upcoming Seattle tour dates when I see Mikah.

He emerges from the crowd, tall and impressive, his face tense and serious. There’s a girl with him. I’ve seen her before—pretty blonde with a butterfly tattoo. She was in one of the photos Jess and I dug up on the internet when we were stalking the band online.

I wait for them to approach Dakota and me, but they walk past the bar and head toward the stairs, completely ignoring us.

* * *

In the living room, we’re on the tenth round of tequila-pong. Thankfully, my boyfriend has great aim and hasn’t been consuming as much as some of his opponents. I’m getting a little nervous, however, because it’s late and somehow, we still haven’t solved the problem of transportation.

There’s a short break and we all go into the kitchen to get some more tequila and snacks. I haven’t seen Mikah since he came in, and I’m wondering if he’s gone for the night and if he’s spending it with the blond girl. These things shouldn’t bother me—his life is his business—but for some reason, my mind is curious.

Loud noises roll into the house as someone crashes the front door open. I hear heavy footsteps traveling through the room and someone yelling over the music.

“DK!” A voice calls out. “Get your ass in here. Your brother…” The last part of the sentence gets cut off by another crash and a chain of gasps.

Suddenly, an attack of panic trundles through my body. Dakota tosses his glass on the floor and charges outside, Casey and others trailing after him like a colony of ants.

My heart hammers madly as I follow after them. I don’t know what exactly caused the riot, and by the time I make it to the porch, there’s nothing to look at except for Mikah and Dakota. They’re standing in the middle of the lawn, both visibly distraught, surrounded by the rest of the party. Dakota slaps him lightly on the cheek and wraps his hand around Mikah’s neck. It’s not a pissed off kind of smack; it’s the brotherly tough love kind that’s usually used when someone needs to be brought back to their senses.

The crowd’s buzzing, despite the cold. The freezing air stings against my skin badly, but I’m too freaked out to go inside and look for my coat.

“Come on!” Andy throws both hands in the air and starts hustling everyone away. “Show’s over.”

“Fuck you!” a voice shouts. “Fucking cunt!”

I hear some gasps and giggles.

“It’s just a misunderstanding,” Andy counters.

“Misunderstanding my ass!”

I hop down the stairs and push through the crowd to get to Dakota. The profanity exchange heats up, and now there are at least five different people yelling and all I really want is to get out of here before something else happens.

* * *

A while later, we’re in a car outside Andy’s house. Mikah’s in the back seat, apparently very drunk. Dakota’s sitting quietly behind the steering wheel, his hands choking it.

The silence between the three of us is awkward. Mostly because they know what happened and don’t want to share. The only thing I overheard as we were leaving is that Mikah got into a fight.

“I’ll drive,” I say, my voice shaky but determined.

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