by Lauren Rowe
The song ends and the crowd cheers fanatically.
“You ready to ‘Crash’ into me?” Will yells to the crowd, and the familiar beat of Will’s massive hit begins blaring over the sound system.
Every person in the club suddenly loses their effing minds, including me. I’m screaming, jumping, shaking my ass—I’m a dancing fool, peepscicles!—just like everyone else under this straining roof. Oh my fucking God!
Will begins rapping the now-ubiquitous words to his song, and I rap them right along with him, word for word, just like I always do in spin class. And in the car. And the shower. And while jogging. Oh my God, this song is my jam!
When Will reaches the hook of the song, the Thaime’s Up boys chime in, along with every person in the audience.
This song is catchy as hell. Infectious! And singing along in unison with so many people, in Thailand, no less, is making me feel light-headed with glee. Only music can unite people all over the world like this. Oh my God, I feel like I’ve been injected with a very illegal substance. This is the divine original form of elation.
The song is drawing to its bone-vibrating finale, but Will stops short of launching into the final hook, in sharp divergence from the recorded version I know so well. “All right, all right. Keep that beat going for me, DJ,” he says, pointing up at the DJ booth. He lets the music settle and simmer for a minute as he swaggers around the stage, working the crowd. The crowd begins cheering and clapping in unison at his slightest suggestion. “Hey, do you guys like this song?” he asks the crowd, and they cheer their response. “Thanks for making this song number one.” They cheer again. “Guess what? I got a special treat for you tonight.” Everyone screams with anticipatory excitement at whatever Will’s about to say. Will lets the beat continue for a moment, building anticipation. “We got someone special in the house tonight.” He glances behind his shoulder in my direction, and when he catches my eye, he smiles broadly.
Every hair on my body stands on end. Oh no. No.
“There’s a world-class spin-rapper in the house tonight, people,” he says, and my heart leaps into my throat. Holy shit. No, no, no.
The crowd cheers wildly, too drunk or high to question what the hell a world-class spin-rapper is, I guess. Several people in the front row pull out their phones and begin videotaping, getting ready for whatever earth-shattering splendor they’re about to behold.
“Yeah, you heard me right, people—we got a world-class spin-rapper here with us tonight—and that’s some once-in-a-lifetime, lucky shit right there.”
I put my hand over my mouth. Surely, my cheeks are beet red.
“This world-class spin-rapper’s here all the way from Seattle—and she came to perform for you.”
The club explodes with excitement. More phones go up into the air.
Oh, dear God. No. I begin shaking my head wildly, like it’s a weather vane atop a stormy barn. No, no, no. Fuck no.
“Put you hands together for...”
Oh God, no. I feel sick. No.
“O... A ... P... Cruz!”
The crowd applauds wildly.
Will turns around and motions to me, his face absolutely beaming.
I shake my head, mortified.
Will strides toward me, laughing, his arms outstretched. “Come on, O-A-P,” he shouts into his microphone. He turns back around to the crowd. “Let’s convince her to come out here, y’all. O-A-P! O-A-P!” The crowd instantly follows Will’s lead, chanting the syllables he’s commanded, though I can’t imagine more than a quarter of them understand what the hell they’re shouting.
“Come on, OAP.” He’s standing at the side of the stage, his open hand demanding that I join him.
I feel Reed’s hand on my shoulder. “Don’t leave him hanging out there,” he says into my ear—and his tone makes it clear I have no choice in the matter.
I take a deep breath, march onstage, and slide my hand into Will’s.
The crowd cheers wildly at the sight of me.
As Will leads me to front and center of the stage, I look up toward the balcony, desperately wanting to see Jonas’ calming face; but the stage lights are burning brightly into my eyes, blinding me. I can’t see a damned thing except the sweaty, screaming people looking up at me from the front edge of the stage, holding up their phones.
“OAP Cruz, everyone!”
The crowd cheers.
“If you know the song, make sure you rap along with her—help her out,” Will says to the crowd. He hands me a microphone and leans into my ear. “First verse. Wait for my cue.” He pauses for a long moment, obviously waiting for a particular place in the song. “Okay, here we go. One. Two. One-two-three-four.”
Without even thinking about it, I begin to rap the song. Holy hell, I’m a rapping fool. Nothing can stop me. I’m on automatic pilot. Holy shit. I’m on fi-yah, motherfuckers. I’ve rapped along to this song a million-kajillion times, and now, thanks to the champagne (and vodka) coursing through my veins, the words are confidently pouring out of me without the slightest need for conscious thought. In fact, the words aren’t just exiting my mouth, they’re flowing out of me like I was born to do this. I. Am. O. A. P. Cruz! Boom!
Will and the boys of Thaime’s Up join me on the chorus, and when the second verse rolls around, Will and I fall into an easy back-and-forth rhythm, alternating our vocals as if we’ve been performing a synchronized duet for years.
I glance up to the balcony, eager to share an elated smile with Jonas, but it’s no use—I still can’t see a damned thing through the blinding stage lights.
Oh my God, this is one of the top ten moments of my life. I’ve never felt this kind of high before without Jonas directly causing it. I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling this way other than in response to Jonas’ magical touch. This is freaking incredible. I feel like I’m having an orgasm in my soul.
When the song ends, the crowd cheers like lunatics and the Thai boys take a bow. Will grabs my hand and raises it in the air. “Let’s hear it for O-A-P Cruz!” The crowd cheers their approval and I laugh with glee. To say I’m having fun would be a gross understatement.
I begin walking offstage toward Reed and Barry, but Will grabs my arm. “Come on, OAP, you’re coming with me.” He pulls me toward the side of the stage, opposite where Reed and Barry are standing, and all seven of us rappers—because I’m a rapper, peeps!—walk offstage together through a private door.
Within half a minute, I’m behind a closed door in a small private room—a dressing room, I think—and one of the Thai boys is twirling me around as everyone else high-fives and hugs and cheers. Someone hands me an open bottle of booze, apparently expecting me to take a swig, and so I do—a big one—and, good God, it tastes like jet fuel. But what the hell—I take a second long swig, anyway, because I’m a frickin’ badass, and then pass the bottle along to the next guy.
One of the Thai boys comes up and kisses me on the cheek. “Awesome!” he says.
“Thank you,” I mumble, but he hasn’t waited for my reply. He’s already moved on to hugging Will.
“That was so tight,” Will says, swooping in to hug me after the Thai boy lets go of him. “We’ve got a world-class spin-rapper right here, motherfuckers!”
The Thai boys cheer. I feel like I’m floating on air. I throw my arms around Will’s neck and hug him. “Thank you so much. That was one of the most exciting moments of my entire life.”
He squeezes me back and kisses me on the cheek. “You slayed it, OAP.” He pulls back from our embrace, laughing. “I thought I was gonna give you the mic for, like, five seconds and then have to grab it back and boot your sorry ass off the stage.” He howls with laughter. “But you rocked it, girl. You fucking rocked it. Oh my God.”
The unmistakable smell of pot suddenly fills my nostrils. I look around the tiny room and one of the Thai boys is blowing a huge puff of smoke out his mouth and passing the joint to his bandmate.
“Give it here,” Will says. He takes a long, looooong
drag and then offers it to me.
“No, thanks,” I say, waving my hands. “Pot just makes me sleepy.”
“Not this shit.” He laughs. “This shit’s gonna give you the best sex of your life.” He offers it to me again.
“It’s just pot? Not laced with anything?”
“Yeah. Just weed—the good stuff. It’s gonna make you feel good, OAP. You’re gonna come up with three more letters for yourself after you smoke this shit.”
I take it from him and inhale deeply on the joint.
“Deeper,” Will says. “A good long inhale, as deep as you can, and hold it in your lungs.”
I take another hit, as deeply as I can manage, but immediately start coughing. This is my second time smoking pot—the first being at a party in college with Kat—and I’m obviously not good at it.
“No, no. Take your time. Hold the smoke in your lungs for three long seconds,” Will says. “Not in your throat—in your lungs. One more try. Really deep, and hold it there for a count of three.”
I follow orders and oh my God. My body’s reaction is literally instantaneous. “Holy crappola,” I say, blowing out the smoke. “I feel like I just got wrapped in a giant Snuggie.” I laugh.
“Just wait ’til tonight when your magical fuck wizard starts going down on you. You think you’re Orgasma the All-Powerful now?” He laughs. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
I can’t even reply. Whoa. I feel amazing. Like I’m filled with helium. Well, and hormones. Whoa. Fucky-fucky fuck me.
“Take another hit,” Will coaxes, and I do.
“Whoa,” I say. And then I take one more hit for good measure.
“You feeling good?”
I nod.
“Hey, Chakrii,” Will says to one of the Thai boys. “You got anymore of that Ex from the other night?”
The Thai boy nods. “Yeah.”
“Give a couple tablets to OAP here, would you?”
Chakrii reaches into his pocket, pulls out a baggie full of little white pills, fishes out two of them, and hands them to Will.
“You and your husband ever fucked on Ecstasy?” Will asks me, holding out his palm to display two white pills.
I shake my head. Wow, the pot is hitting me hard. I want to curl up with Jonas and lick him from head to toe. “I’ve never done any drugs at all, except for smoking pot once in college,” I say. “And all I did after that was sleep.” Oh, jeez. My brain is slowing down and warping. I suddenly feel so relaxed. “Teach me how to dougie,” I say, seemingly out of nowhere—but it’s not out of nowhere, actually, because I’m rhyming with “Snuggie.” Duh.
“You’re not gonna believe how good sex feels when you combine this strain of weed with Ecstasy.” He grabs my hand and gently lays the two white pills in my palm, like he’s giving me a baby chick. “This is my gift to you and your husband for tonight. Enjoy it, Orgasma.”
I push the pills back at him. “I don’t want to die.”
Will laughs. “You won’t die. This isn’t a fucking after-school special. This is pure MDMA. I used it just the other night. Awesome stuff. Just have fun.”
My brain has slowed to the capacity of a Chihuahua. “I don’t want to die in Thailand, Will.”
“Sarah, you’re not gonna die. When Ecstasy is pure, not laced with any other shit, it’s completely safe. All this is gonna do to you is give you the orgasm of your life. A night of pure ecstasy.” He smiles. “Your husband’s gonna thank me.”
“Jonas already gives me pure ecstasy. The culmination of human possibility.” That last part sounded funny when it came out of my mouth. “Human possibility,” I say again, just because it’s such a funny combination of syllables. “Hyoomuhn. Poss. I. Billy. Billy. Bill. Ah-tee.”
Will shakes his head. “Your husband gave you your first orgasm so you don’t know there’s another level beyond him. But, trust me, there is—and this is gonna take you there.” He winks. “My gift to you both.”
“Hyoo-muhn poss-i-billy. Billy-uh-tee,” I say. “Ah-tee.”
He laughs. “You’re welcome.”
Chapter 19
Sarah
“Awesome show, Will.” It’s Reed, hugging Will and patting him heartily on the back. “Dude, the crowd went apeshit. We definitely have to do this again at my club in Vegas next month.” Reed turns to me. “You’ll have to come out to my club in Vegas for a repeat performance, OAP Cruz.” He throws his head back and laughs. “Fucking awesome.”
I don’t reply. I’m too busy staring at Reed’s hair and thinking, “That looks soft.”
Reed hugs and high-fives each member of Thaime’s Up, and I turn my attention to the lights dangling from the ceiling. “Amay-zing,” I say out loud, though there’s no one listening to me. “Preeeeetttttttyyyyyyyy.”
Reed puts his arm around my shoulder. “Did you have fun up there, Sarah?”
I nod. Gosh, Reed is so handsome. And just such a nice guy, too. His teeth are strikingly white.
“You looked like you were having a blast,” Reed says. “You slayed it, OAP Cruz.”
“You’re such a nice guy, Reed,” I say, laying my cheek against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention that to you before now.”
He laughs. “What’s OAP stand for, by the way?”
I jerk my head off Reed’s shoulder and make a face at Will like a cartoon character about to get run over by a locomotive.
Will bursts out laughing and makes a motion like he’s locking his mouth. He winks.
I sink back into Reed’s shoulder, relieved. Will is my friend. He would never tell my secret. That’s cause he’s my friend. Gosh, it feels nice to cuddle Reed. Reed is my friend, too. “Cuddle,” I say out loud. “Cuuuuuudddddduuuhl.”
“I got a video of the whole thing on my phone,” Reed says. “I already sent it to Josh. Oh my God, he’s gonna laugh his ass off. I wish he could have been here to see that. Hysterical.”
“Oh, I’m sure someone’s already put it up on YouTube,” Will says. “Our girl OAP’s gonna go viral, for sure. Mark my words.”
“No doubt,” Reed says, laughing. “Oh, man, that was classic!”
Reed’s teeth aren’t just white, they’re also very straight. I touch the sleeve of his shirt. The fabric feels incredibly soft against my fingertips. “Soft,” I whisper.
“OAP Cruz is in da house!” Will shouts and everyone laughs and cheers and holds up bottles of booze and beer.
I snuggle closer into Reed. “I really like you, Reed.” I nuzzle my face into his chest like I’m a cat kneading my claws into a scratching pole. “I just like to snuggle you, Reed. Snuggle. Snuuuuuugguhl. Reeeeeeeeed.”
Reed’s head suddenly whips toward Will. “Oh, fuck, Will. No.”
Will laughs.
“You gave her fucking Ecstasy?”
Will’s laughing his ass off.
“Oh shit,” Reed says. “Fuck. Will. Goddammit, man. I promised Jonas I’d take care of her. He’s gonna shit a brick.” Reed grabs my hand. “Come on, Sarah. Jonas is waiting for you upstairs in the balcony. Snuggle time is over. I need to get you to your husband.”
“Jonas,” I coo. “Jonas is my husband. I love him so much. He’s so beautiful, inside and out. Joooonaaaas. He’s the man of my dreams; did I ever tell you that? He makes me feel so, so good.”
“You’re such a dick, Will.”
Will laughs again.
“I’m gonna tell Jonas I love him so, so much. And then I’m gonna touch his hair.”
Reed pulls me toward the door of the room, and the minute he opens it, I see Jonas standing there, ranting like a lunatic.
“You can’t go in there,” Barry is saying, crossing his massive, black arms over his chest. “Reed went in there to get her—you just have to be patient—”
“I’m not gonna be fucking patient—”
“Jonas,” I say, lunging toward him. I throw my arms around him and press my horny body into his. I’m expecting him to melt into me and kiss me deeply—and, hopefully, rip
my clothes off right here—who cares who sees us?—but he doesn’t do any of those things. In fact, he’s stiff and cold and clearly pissed as hell. “Did you see me rapping, baby?” I giggle, choosing to ignore the obvious signals of his taut body. “I’m a world-class spin-rapper! Yo!”
Jonas clenches his jaw. “Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and starts pulling me away.
“Wait, we have to say goodbye to Reed and Will.”
“Barry, will you say goodbye to Reed for us?” Jonas says thinly, and, without waiting for a reply, he pulls me roughly away again.
“What about Will?”
Jonas levels his smoldering gaze at me. “I think you’ve already said plenty to Will.” He pulls roughly on my arm. “Come on.”
Jonas pulls me through the crowd like I’m a rag doll, moving persistently toward the front doors of the club. Our progress through the large room is slow, though, because the crowd is dense—and also because pretty people keep stopping us, wanting to high-five me or hug me or take their photo with me. “No, sorry. No,” Jonas keeps saying. “No, we’ve got to go.”
He’s actually being kind of rude, in my humble opinion. All these lovely people want to do is show OAP Cruz some love, and I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than return it. All I want to do right now is hug a whole bunch of pretty Thai people and Australian tourists (or are they Kiwis?) and kiss them and maybe even stroke their shiny hair, too. Gosh, they’ve all got shiny hair. Oh, and look at the lights. The lights are so bee-yoo-ti-ful. Amay-zing. Oh, and I wanna touch that guy’s jacket, too. I reach out and touch it. Oh, so soft.
“Photo?” someone asks.
“Yes,” I purr.
Jonas pulls forcefully on me. “No.”
“Baby,” I say. “Stop so I can hug my loyal fans.”
“No.”
“Well, then let’s pop into the bathroom so I can suck your dick.” I giggle.
Jonas doesn’t even pause. “Hardly the time or place, Sarah,” he mutters, his voice as hard as granite.
