Face

by Tim Lebbon

  “Hi Jesse. Having fun?”

  His eyes shifted and he glanced down at his feet. “Don’t know many of them, but they’re an OK bunch.”

  “Anyone here from school at all?”

  He nodded vigorously. “Most of the sixth form are dancing in the dining room, a few more are

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  in the kitchen. Rumor has it Natalie is humping Pete upstairs.”

  “Already? Didn’t waste her time.”

  “Does she ever?” Jesse asked, but Nikki could hear the desperate jealousy in his voice.

  “Wanna go mingle?” she asked.

  He nodded his relief. “Where’s Jazz?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Would if I could. Jerk.”

  Nikki laughed and gave Jesse a friendly hug. “Mandy’s opinion exactly. Hmm … and mine.”

  They left the unknown smokers and crossed the wide hall to the dining room doorway. The double sliding doors were open, spewing light and loud music and the vague hint of sweat from the dancers boiling within. The Chili Peppers had been replaced by a compilation of club dance music, and the ravers amongst them were getting down to their serious stuff. The huge dining table-Nikki had been for a meal when there were twelve people seated there-had been shoved up against the far wall, and now it provided a grandstand seat for people to sit and rest and view the dancers, take the piss or scope the talent.

  “I need a drink!” Nikki shouted into Jesse’s ear.

  He nodded, then motioned her to him. He held her head as he shouted back, his fingers slipping under her hair and stroking her scalp slowly, gently, and probably unintentionally. “I’ve seen Amanda! I’ll see you in a minute!”

  Amanda was a snobbish bitch in Nikki’s books, full of self-confidence with very little

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  reason. Nikki scanned the room and saw her in the middle of the dancing throng, strutting her stuff, pumping her hips and sticking out her little tits like some major dance queen. Nowhere near good enough for Jesse. But she could never tell him that. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she shouted back, leaving Jesse to waste his time.

  As she walked past the staircase to the kitchen she wondered briefly whether she was good enough for Jesse. She smiled in surprise, but an instant image of Brand breathing into her face behind The Hall-his stale breath tasting sweet in her mouth-wiped a smile from her face. She looked around startled, as if expecting to see him standing at the front door. There was no one there, only a haze of smoke drifting out from the living room, twisting into impossible shapes in the hallway.

  She reached the kitchen door to a wave of shouted greetings and playful insults.

  “It’s the gorgeous Nikki!”

  “Nikki likes licky!”

  “Nik, you bitch, what took you so long!”

  “Sexy girl.” Whispered. A loud whisper as if it came from right beside her. She looked around quickly and shook her head. The voice had sounded older than anyone here … older than everyone here.

  “Nikki, show us your tits!”

  “Hi Mike,” she said. She liked Mike, his constant haranguing and playful abuse made her feel strangely at ease in his presence, even though she thought most of it was because he felt inadequate

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  with his attraction to her. That’s what she liked to think at least.

  Mike nudged the guy standing next to him, someone Nikki didn’t know. “She does, you know. First whiff of alcohol and she gets her tits out. Second whiff she lets you feel them.”

  “Don’t listen to a word he says,” Nikki said.

  “Drink?” The guy held out three bottles of Bacardi Breezer. She couldn’t help laughing, but she only took one.

  “Where’s Jazz?” Mike asked.

  “Anyone else asks me that and I’ll personally execute them in public,” she said.

  “Oh,” Mike said, hopelessly feigning disinterest. “Still AWOL.”

  “Still being stupid, yeah.” She took a swig from her bottle and sighed as the sweet drink tingled her throat.

  “Fourth whiff?” the guy asked Mike loud enough for Nikki to hear.

  “Home run,” she said playfully, pushing past the two collapsing boys and inspecting the food table.

  It was an impressive feast; Mandy’s parents had obviously invested some of their expense accounts into hiring professional caterers. The kitchen table-not quite as massive as the one in the dining room but still half the size of Nikki’s bedroom-was covered with a spread that would put most wedding parties to shame. Sandwiches were beautifully arranged; smoked salmon and shredded duck shared space with lamb kebabs and pork balls; a dozen flavors of vol-au-vents scattered amongst silver dishes of home-fried

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  crisps and boned chicken breasts coated in a variety of spicy marinades. Bottles of wine were dotted here and there, the red corked to breathe, the white residing in gorgeously melting ice sculptures, their reservoir dishes filling slowly with water. Snacks sat on plates with imaginatively peeled oranges and other useless ornamentations, which would inevitably end up being thrown around the kitchen or hidden in cupboards to rot and stink once everyone was pissed. There was even a huge figure “18” cake, the “1” in the shape of a microphone, the “8” a pair of drums, other music-inspired shapes cast in icing and scattered around the base of the cake.

  The candles looked too expensive to set alight.

  Nikki was pleased to note that there was more than enough food to cater for her vegetarian sensibilities, although all in all the display looked far too lovely to even consider tearing it apart, throwing it onto plates, eating and probably spewing it into expensively carpeted corners later on.

  The drinks table was even more impressively weighed down. Bottles of every imaginable spirit hunkered at the back ready to leap out later in the night, while cans and bottles of lager, bitter, cider, alcoholic fruit juices, wines and fizzy mixer drinks were piled on and under the table, and doubtless cooled in the fridge as well. A wreck of empties already hung around the full bin. Several bottle had been smashed, their remains kicked into a corner.

  Nikki took a handful of crisps and nibbled at them while she surveyed the feast. It was going to be a good party. Lots of her friends were here,

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  there was food and booze enough for a football stadium, and Jazz wasn’t around to bug her or cause trouble. She felt bad thinking that, but it was the truth and she was in no mood to try lying to herself.

  Maybe Brand would show as well. She hoped he would. That was the truth.

  She wondered what everyone would think if he turned up and they walked around arm in arm. She laughed a little, spraying crisp crumbs onto the floor. Then she stopped laughing because she knew just how badly Brand would mix, and how false that image of comfortable companionship would be. Brand didn’t want a girlfriend … Nikki doubted he needed one. If he wanted anything from her it was one thing: sex. She breathed in deeply and tried not to imagine them together, but it felt as though his hands were already there, smoothing her shoulders and working their way down and around her body, over her breasts, across her stomach and between her legs, turning warm to hot and dry to wet.

  She opened her eyes, drained the bottle in one gulp and went back to Mike and his nameless friend for another.

  “So why isn’t Jazz here?” Mike asked. “He sulking? How’s the band going?”

  “Point one, Jazz and I had a row and he’s fucked off to try and get me worried and upset.”

  “It working?” Mike’s friend asked.

  Nikki stared at him and took a glug from her new bottle. “Do I look upset?”

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  “Well … you don’t look your usual charming self,” Mike said.

  Nikki went to clap him on the shoulder but she saw that he was serious. “The Rabids are doing okay,” she said. “We want to start gigging soon. May even ask my old man if he can get us a gig at Bar None!”

  “Cool place for a rock band to play.”

  “
That’s what we thought.”

  Mike glanced at his mate who sauntered off, muttering something about finding the loo. Nikki saw the prearranged signal as clear as day, but she pretended not to. Mike was all right. She didn’t mind chatting to him for a while.

  Someone touched her between the legs, a warm, hard hand cupping her there and nudging up with a thick finger.

  “Fuck!” She dropped her bottle and spun around, ready to lay out whatever sick bastard thought she wore a short skirt as an invite. The bottle smashed and splashed her bare legs with drink and broken glass. She did not notice.

  There was no one there.

  “Nikki?” Mike asked.

  “Huh?”

  He moved the shattered glass aside with his foot and held her shoulders. “What’s up? Don’t you like Metz?”

  She shrugged, held her own hands up in a warding off gesture, shook her head. “Nothing, nothing. I’m okay. Need the loo, I think.”

  She left the kitchen, feeling Mike’s annoyed gaze travelling up and down her back. The downstairs loo was locked so she hurried upstairs,

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  finding the first floor bathroom lit and open. She slammed the door and locked it, sat on the lowered toilet seat and held her head in her hands.

  Sexy girl the voice had said. She’d heard it. She’d heard it behind The Hall as well, and she knew she had to get Brand out of her mind. He was not going to be here, he had no invite, he didn’t know where she was, he had no interest in her. Business with her father, he’d said, that’s why he was hanging around, no other reason …

  But why find her? Why follow her?

  Why spy on her in school?

  She stayed there for a while, wondering what had happened to Jazz and why he’d left it this long. Had she really pissed him off that much? She guessed she had. Elbowing him in the head was just a part of it, he’d known her mind had been elsewhere for the past few days. He may be a raging hormonal monster, but he wasn’t stupid. Maybe he was staying away because he really wanted no more to do with her. The thought made her feel cheap and nasty … and unwanted. She didn’t like it. She liked attention.

  Nikki checked her make-up and left the bathroom. Glancing up at the second floor landing she saw Mandy, leaning against the banister and flirting outrageously with Mike’s friend. Who knew what would happen there later? One thing for sure: today, Mandy wanted to be center of attention. If she was going to screw the guy she’d likely do it now, so that she could come back down and flit around the party once more, enjoying the fact that word was spreading that she’d already had her birthday present.

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  Nikki stood still for a couple of minutes, waiting to see if Mandy noticed her. Noise rose from below, darkness hung above, half-hiding Mandy and the guy from view. Nikki stood in between. The couple were whispering to each other, leaning closer and closer, the guy’s bottle of lager eventually touching Mandy’s breast, a couple of fingers unwrapping from around the glass to stroke her there. When he leaned forward and gave Mandy a kiss Nikki turned and quietly hurried downstairs. It was crazy but she’d felt a pang of jealousy. She had no one here tonight to kiss. Mike was interested but not interesting, a flirt wrapped around nothing, and besides, notwithstanding everything she’d been feeling and saying about Jazz, she didn’t feel in the mood for a guilt trip.

  Back downstairs she headed for the dining room, thinking to lose herself in the flashing colored lights, the music that had been cranked up so loud she could almost climb it when she stood at the door. It was a solid force coming at her, a sensory attack that worked at every level… she could taste the spilled booze and the sweat of the dancers, the pheromones of attraction that ruled the dance floor and drew people into shadowy embraces under the table and in corners where the lights did not reach. She went in, elbowed her way through the dancers-swapping shouted hellos and nods with people she knew as she went-and looked around for Jesse.

  He could be anywhere. If not in here, then back in the kitchen for another drink. If not there, then in the living room with the

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  dope smokers, trying his luck once more with the girls on the settee, telling them he was a drummer in a band. If not there … well, there were fifteen rooms in the house, any one of them could hide a surprise.

  It was too loud to talk, almost too loud to think. Nikki leaned against the table and picked up a half-finished bottle of lager. It was still cool so she took a drink, not caring that it was someone else’s. She’d been here for half an hour but already she felt more distant-more removed-than when she’d arrived. Being on her own was part of it, but that was no different to at least half of those present. The trouble with Jazz contributed as well, she knew, a complex guilt-driven concern that mixed in anger at his behavior and confusion at her contradictory thoughts about Brand. Be here, she thought, I’m scared of you, she thought. Just another fucked-up teenager, that’s what she was. Maybe she needed more drink.

  Something touched her ankle, an intimate tickle that could have been a kiss. She cursed out loud, her voice lost in the cacophony, and squatted to look under the table. She stared straight into the face of a girl giving a blow job. The guy’s hands grabbed at the floor, fisting and stretching, and the girl-it was Amanda, although the guy certainly wasn’t Jesse-looked at Nikki without once losing her rhythm.

  Nikki stood, embarrassed and feeling more unwelcome than ever. She shouldered her way from the room, not even bothering to return any greetings or comments this time, and headed to the kitchen for something new to drink.

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  Mike was still there. “Hey, Nik.”

  “Fucking orgy,” Nikki said, then forced a laugh because she realized how old and responsible that sounded.

  “Oh, and why aren’t I involved?”

  “Your mate’s upstairs with Mandy, and there’s something oral occurring under the dining room table.”

  “Mandy? Blimey. Fast worker. She doesn’t even know him.”

  Nikki shrugged. “Guess she does by now.” She indicated the drinks table with a nod of her head. “Alcohol required in excessive quantities. Want anything?”

  She saw a smart quip forming on his lips about what he wanted, so she turned and found a bottle of Schnapps. There were shot glasses but she chose a tumbler, filling it almost to the top before dropping in some ice and a splash of lemonade to assuage her guilt. She drank, relishing the tingle of the drink across her lips and tongue, the warmth as it trickled down into her stomach. A pleasant buzz was already blurring her senses.

  She turned around and Mike had gone. Playing hard to get. Well, she guessed he knew by now he wouldn’t be got tonight, not by her at least.

  “Nikki!” Jesse said, hurrying into the room. He grabbed up two bottles from the table, opened them and took a drink. “Hey, I’ve met a girl. Suzy. She’s in a band, she’s a keyboard player, electro-crap but still, she likes the fact that I’m a drummer, she wanted another drink so I said I’d get her one.”

  “Cool.” She felt genuinely happy for him. It

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  was the first truly pleasant feeling she’d had this evening.

  “See you later.” He looked suddenly sober and concerned. “Hey. You don’t mind, do you?”

  Nikki laughed out loud and spilled some of her drink. “Don’t be soft. Enjoy yourself. Hey, Jesse, full report when I see you next, eh?”

  Jesse smiled, nodded and tapped his back pocket. He spun around to leave, then turned back and touched Nikki’s arm. “Oh, there was some guy asking after you. Tall. Long hair. Scar … I think.” He frowned for a couple of seconds, looking vaguely over Nikki’s shoulder. “Seemed like he should be in a band.” Then he turned and was gone before she could say a thing.

  Tall. Long hair. Scar … I think.

  “Oh shit.” She started to shake, and had to put her drink down before she dropped it. Nerves twisted her stomach, and excitement, and fear, and pleasure at the confirmation that yes, Brand was interested in her. Whateve
r his business with her dad, she counted as well. Tall. Long hair. Gorgeous.

  She stared at the kitchen door, expecting Brand to enter from the hallway at any second. She realized that she was alone. Something heavy was thundering through the house, Rob Zombie or Marilyn Manson, so loud that she could feel the laminate timber flooring vibrate through the soles of her shoes. A haze of smoke hung in the air, tinged with the warm odor of dope. She breathed it in and suddenly craved a joint.

  Where was he?

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  Desperate for another drink, she swigged back the remains of her Archers and half-filled the glass with gin. There was a lemon on a slicing board on the table, she cut a perfect half-inch slice and dropped it in the glass, followed by two chunks of ice and an inch of bitter lemon. She swilled it to mix, then took a sip. Strong. Sweet. Refreshing.

  Where the hell … ?

  Nikki glanced at the buffet table and felt less hungry than she had for a long time. Another drink washed the feeling away. Another drink because he wasn’t there yet, and the last thing she wanted to do was to go looking for him. That would appear too eager, too desperate, even though seeing him was all she really wanted right now …

  She noticed that the door to the wine cellar had been unlocked and hung slightly ajar. Darkness threatened to spew out.

  Nikki finished her gin, poured two inches of whiskey and went looking for Brand.

  He was not in the living room. Jesse sat on one of the floor cushions, propped side to side with the girl he’d met-Suzy, was that her name?- laughing and giggling and taking pleasure in whispering into her ear, greater pleasure when she laughed at what he said. The rest of the room was full of strangers. No Brand. He was a stranger she knew.