Life of the Party (46 page)

“All the other
kids brought in maybe thirty, or forty UPC’s. I think there was one
that had a hundred or something. But then you came with … what was
it, seven-hundred and thirty nine?”

“Yeah!” I
laughed out loud; I couldn’t keep the smile from my lips at the
memory. I had terrorized my neighbours out of their garbage for
weeks, unable to rest until I knew that shiny red bike was mine for
certain. “But I won, didn’t I?” I giggled.

“Yes, you did.
That’s what I mean. When you get your head wrapped around
something, you don’t quit. You know? That’s what worries me.”

“What?”

“I don’t even
know. It’s not like turning eighteen really changes things for you,
does it? You’ve been clubbing this whole time.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know
how to explain it. I’ve just had this … this nagging feeling of, of
dread for you lately. I know that sounds lame, but I do.”

“You’re really
that worried?”

“Yeah. I don’t
try to be, but I just can’t help it.”

“Riley, I can
take care of myself.” I rolled my eyes. “Honestly. I’m fine.”

“I know, I just
…. Just promise me that you’ll be careful, okay? It would set my
mind at ease, just knowing that you’ll try.”

“Okay, fine.” I
sighed. “I promise I’ll be careful. Okay?”

“Okay.” Riley
still sounded doubtful. I didn’t know what else to do for him, how
else to alleviate this totally unfounded concern. He sighed
heavily, like he was unsatisfied, like my promise really hadn’t
eased his mind like he thought it would.

“Well, I should
go. I’m supposed to be meeting Emily.”

“Okay.”

“But it was
nice to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you too.
Hey, Riley?”

“Yeah?”

“I could never
forget about you, either.”

I could hear
the smile in his voice. “Bye, Mac.”

“Bye.”

When I hung up
the phone, I was happy. I sighed contentedly, lay back against the
pillows and lit another cigarette, going over our conversation in
my mind. But the longer I sat by myself in the dimly lit hotel
room, thinking of it, thinking of Riley—the lonelier I became. His
warm, familiar voice faded from my ears, leaving me empty, hollow,
alone. Suddenly I felt all the hurt and heartsickness I’d managed
to avoid all summer, the throbbing pain of missing Riley that I
could no longer ignore.

It was like the
emotion was intensified from all my months of pretending it didn’t
exist, like it had strengthened itself, somehow, pushed away in the
farthest places of my mind. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying
to fill the empty void within me, and it felt like I couldn’t
breathe. I missed Riley so much, it physically hurt.

I had to see
him. That was it, all there was to it. I knew I wouldn’t feel
better until I was with him again. I got up off the bed and paced,
frantically shoving things into my bag, all the while making hasty
plans in my head. I would get a taxi to the nearest airport, and
catch the soonest flight and then call when I got there and then …
and then ….

And then what?
I forced myself to stop, to take a breath and think somewhat
rationally. What would I do? Hang out with Riley and (shudder)
Emily? What would it change? It wouldn’t be the same, not like it
had been, just because I missed him. Riley had Emily. They were
together. There was no room in his life for me, not now.

I was being
ridiculous. There was no way I could leave. I sat on the bed,
resigned. I had Grey now, there was no reason I should feel such
loneliness. And yet, it seemed like I was eight again and away at
camp, homesick and sad, lonely and aching for home. The feeling was
unsettling, unnerving.

I ran my hands
up into my hair in frustration. All the walls I had managed to
build to save myself from this pain had been torn down by Riley’s
phone call. The realization angered me. Why did Riley have to call
at all? Why couldn’t he just leave me alone, leave me in the
relative peace that I had cultivated for myself? Why did he have to
call and drudge up all the old feelings again?

I needed to
stick with my original plan. I needed to forget about Riley
McIntyre. And for that, I needed drugs. I left my half-packed
suitcase on the bed and began to scrounge desperately, opening
drawers and banging shut the cabinets, searching for something,
anything to help and numb the pain. I found chalky mirrors and
rolling papers and all the paraphernalia associated with them, but
there were no actual drugs to help me. At that point, I would’ve
taken anything, Nyquil, Tylenol Three … something, anything to take
the edge off, to ease the frantic pounding of my broken heart.

It was as if he
read my mind. The door to the hotel room opened and Grey swept in,
his handsome face brilliant as he smirked at me, his blue eyes
alight with excitement. The entire room seemed to brighten as soon
as he entered it, just his presence helped alleviate my sadness,
and I smiled back at him, relieved.

“I’m so glad
you’re back.” I threw my arms around him as soon as I was near
enough. Grey hugged me and chuckled into my hair.

“Me too.” He
kissed my forehead. “And, I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?”
Desperately I hoped it was some kind of drug. “What is it?”

“You have to
shut your eyes.” He instructed. “Here, sit down.”

I did as I was
told; keeping my eyes shut even when I felt Grey’s weight sinking
onto the bed next to me. He put something into my hand then,
something small and plastic.

“Okay, you can
open them.”

I blinked for a
minute, staring down at the little baggie sitting in my palm. It
was full of whitish-brown powdery crystals, like dirty snow or
beach sand. I smiled excitedly. “Is this some kind of cocaine?” I
wondered eagerly.

“No. This stuff
is called China White.”

“China White?”
I had never heard of it before.

“Yeah. Heroin.”
Grey stated casually. I looked up at him in surprise, and he just
smiled back at me, like it was no big deal.

“Heroin?” My
eyes lit up with curiosity. “Like, real heroin?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you done
it before?”

“Yeah, a few
times. The guys at the studio do it now and then, they hooked us
up.” He grinned. “It’s good, Mackenzie. You’ll like it.”

“What does it
feel like?”

Grey’s blue
eyes gleamed fondly. “It’s like … I don’t know … it just feels so
good. I don’t even know how to describe it. Like warm, and totally
relaxed, and just … heavy. I don’t know, I’m not doing it justice,
but trust me, after this, you won’t care that your license is
missing. You won’t have a care in the world.”

I grinned
eagerly, and nodded. It sounded perfect, just what I needed.
Something that would take it all away. “Okay.” I handed him the
baggie back and my stomach churned in anticipation, sending
thrilling tingles throughout me.

“The good thing
about this stuff,” Grey explained as he pulled out a mirror from
the bedside table. “Is that you don’t have to inject it. You can
sniff it, just like coke.”

“You
have
to inject the other stuff?” I asked with horror,
subconsciously covering my elbow pit with my hand. I made a
face.

Grey chuckled
at me. “Yeah. Why? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of needles.”

“Afraid doesn’t
begin to describe it. Petrified, maybe. Terrified, even.”

“This coming
from a girl who can do a shot of Appleton rum with barely a
grimace.” He looked up at me fondly, amused. “Wonders never
cease.”

I shrugged,
watching as Grey divided the dirty powder into two lines for us. I
lit a smoke and tapped my hands against my jeans, anxious and
eager. I honestly didn’t know enough about heroin to even think of
the consequences like I usually did. It had always been some far
off legend, something people did in the city—apart from us,
removed. Even if I had known more about it, more than just how good
it seemed, the drugs were too alluring, the high too enticing for
me to even consider not doing it. There was no turning back now.
Soon, the pain I felt for Riley would be only a distant memory. I
couldn’t wait.

“You have to be
careful with this shit.” Grey was saying. “You can’t do too much.
It’s really easy to OD, even easier than coke. Just take a little
to start, and see how you handle it.”

“Okay.” I
nodded excitedly.

“This one’s for
you.” He pointed to the smaller of the two lines on the mirror and
then handed me a straw. I grabbed it from his hand and took a deep
breath. “Okay.” I repeated.

“Mackenzie?”

“Yes?”

“Happy
birthday.” Grey smirked. I giggled at him, nearly giddy, and leaned
towards him over the mirror so we could share a brief, happy kiss.
Then, tremulous and excited, unable to wait for another second, I
bent down over the glass with the straw gripped tightly within my
shaky fingers.

As I did so,
there was a brief flash in my mind. I saw Riley’s face, and he was
shaking his head at me, as if willing me, pleading for me not to do
this. I heard his voice again.
“… Promise me that you’ll be
careful, okay? Please?”

I shook the
image away and bent down to my task, even more determined now.

Screw you,
Riley. You never should have left me.

I chased the
line quickly, impatiently almost. The heroin shot up my nose,
smoother than the cocaine—like it was softer, somehow. I felt it
hit my nostrils, felt the sweet burn radiate from deep within my
sinuses.

And nothing was
ever the same.

I was actually
disappointed at first, like I’d been expecting my brain to explode
from a mind-ravaging high or something. Grey did his line and then
we lit a smoke, leaned back against the headboard and just … waited
for it to hit. Grey flipped on the TV, and we laughed together as
the UFC slowly warmed into view. I still didn’t feel anything. I
thought maybe the line Grey made for me had been too small. But
then, I began to notice it.

It started
small; I could feel it creeping up on me—slowly, building in
intensity. I reached down for Grey’s hand and laced my fingers
through his, glad that he was with me, happy to be sharing this
with him. He turned over towards me and propped his head on his
hand, studying my face, his blue eyes eager as they swept me
over.

“I want to
watch” He smirked. “I want to know the moment you feel it.”

I nodded, but I
suddenly found it hard to speak. Wave after wave of warmth was
crashing over me—blissful heat, the perfect temperature, pouring
all over my body—loosening my muscles until they felt weak and
heavy, beyond the point of relaxed. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact
moment it hit me, I just knew I felt it, and it seemed like I’d
been feeling that way forever. I melted back against the bed,
unbelievably tranquil, overwhelmingly comfortable, like I was
snuggled on a cloud of the softest, warmest air. Nothing mattered
then, just like he’d said. Not Riley, not the pain. Nothing but how
good I felt.

Grey was
kissing me, his lips brushing over my face. I tried to smile for
him.

“It’s good,
isn’t it?” His voice was low in my ear.

“Yes.” I
couldn’t raise my voice above a whisper. I nodded weakly. “Yes
….”

Time passed. I
had no idea how much time, but it felt like ages. We didn’t talk
much. There wasn’t much to say. I was perfectly content just to lay
there, to let the warmth have its way, to shut my eyes and let my
body soften, like butter, against the mattress in total, euphoric
apathy. I didn’t have a care in the world. There wasn’t one thought
that could interfere, not one emotion that could penetrate the
heroin’s silky embrace, the velvety soft blanket that was draped
over me. It was like heaven.

But then I felt
something else. I felt sick. My eyes fluttered open as my stomach
twisted with a sudden surge of nausea, and I knew I was going to
throw up.

“Grey?” I
forced myself out of the bed, amazed I even had the strength to
stand. I clutched my stomach as it lurched and hurried towards the
bathroom.

“It’s okay,”
Grey called to me from the bed. He could barely open his eyes.
“You’ll feel better … after ….”

I barely made
it to the toilet. My body heaved as I retched, trying to purge the
poison from my system, emptying my insides over and over again.
Even the vomiting felt good though, in its own way. When the
tremors finally receded I collapsed on the cold tile of the
bathroom floor, sweaty, shivering from the effort as the racking
nausea faded at last.

“Hey,
Mackenzie, you okay?” Grey leaned heavily against the door.

I nodded in
response, but couldn’t bring myself to move. He came and helped me
up off the floor. I was weak and shaky, but I still felt
amazing—not as high as I had been, but weighty and sedated, heavy
and warm. We crawled back into the bed. Everything felt so right
again, so perfect … the temperature of the room, the soft mattress
beneath me. The sickness was completely forgotten. I lit a
cigarette and smoked it slowly, then lit another, and another.
Perfectly happy. Perfectly content.

Cocaine didn’t
last me fifteen minutes. This high lasted for hours, like a long,
languid bath that never ended; full of warm, fragrant water that
never cooled.

Heroin was it.
A contented smile curved my lips. This was what I’d been looking
for, all along, the secret I knew the world had been keeping from
me. I turned to Grey, who was nodding off beside me, nearly
overcome by the euphoric surge of love I felt for him, the total
gratitude for sharing with me this pleasure, this secret. He had
found for me something I didn’t know was missing.

And suddenly
couldn’t live without.