Page 18 of Bad Reputation

We work our way over to where Tammy is, Candace throwing a couple of elbows here and there. I notice that Tammy is standing by a plastic table, which is a sort of makeshift bar. At least, there are twenty different bottles of cheap liquor on it, and another half dozen bottles of soft drinks.

When we get to Tammy, she already has shots lined up for us in red solo cups.

“Here, bitches!” she shouts, handing us each a solo cup.

I look at the purplish liquid in the bottom of the cup a little suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Don’t ask questions, silly!” Tammy says. “Just cheers!”

She and Candace toast, so I do too. Then we drink. I wince at the sugariness of it; I think that it is literally vodka with Kool-Aid mix and a ton of sugar.

“Amazing!” Candace says. “You’re the best bartender, Tammy.”

Tammy grins. “Come on, come to the back yard. They have an ice block set up back there to do shots!”

“Omigod, really?” Candace shrieks.

I sigh, tagging along behind them. If I weren’t so petrified to meet guys alone, I would never even be here. But I am here, so I go along with whatever they want to do.

For the next two hours, I do shots, play beer pong, and try my hand at some card game that everyone seems to know called Kings and Assholes.

About an hour in, things get a little blurry around the edges. I blearily try to count how many drinks I’ve had, but I can’t. My friends are getting sloppy drunk, and apparently so am I.

We get friendly with a group of guys that Candace knows from high school. Candace makes out with one of them quite extensively. Then two hours in, Candace runs outside to puke in the bushes. I go with her, trying to clean up, but the guy that she made out with shoos me away.

“She gets like this sometimes,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll take her home. No funny business, I swear.”

He half-drags her out of the party. I look around for Tammy, but she’s mysteriously missing.

God damnit. Now I’m drunk and alone.

One of the guys that Candace introduced me to, Brad, comes over and puts his arm around me. A red light goes off in my drunk brain. I need to get the hell out of here, now.

Thumbing through my phone, I slip outside and sit down in the trampled grass. I call Asher first, but his phone just rings until his voicemail picks up.

After a few tries, I scowl at my phone. “Jerk.”

I scroll through the other contacts, stopping on Jameson. Figuring that it’s worth a try, I call him. I don’t actually expect him to pick up.

Except, he does. The phone rings twice, then an out of breath Jameson answers.

“Hello?”

“Oh!” I say. “You picked up the phone.”

There’s a second of hesitation on his part, and the murmur of another voice in the background. I can’t hear what is said, but the timbre says it’s a woman.

“Hold on.” I hear noise, like the phone is being moved around. “Emma? You okay?”

“I’m at a party,” I say. Then, unsure if I’m slurring or not, I say, “I think… I think I need a ride. Asher’s not answering his phone.”

I hiccup, ending the statement there.

“Shit,” Jameson says. “Uhhh…. alright. Where are you?”

“I’m at…” I turn, squinting at the house. “704 Sycamore Drive.”

“Alright. Are you somewhere safe for now? Can you hang out for ten or fifteen minutes until I can get there?”

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