I’d already been spotted.
“Well paint me green and call me Gumby! I do believe that’s Izzy Lancaster I see,” a rather drunken male called out.
“I reckon it is, Tad,” another replied. “All prettied up and everything.”
“Well ain’t we lucky, Scooter?” I saw a familiar large dark silhouette approaching me, fully equipped with what appeared to be a beer bottle in each hand. Tad Davies. My night was about to get even more interesting. “You fixin’ to get drunk tonight, Izzy?”
“I might just be,” I answered, taking the beer he’d extended toward me while shaking my bottle of tequila at him. The lazy smile that crept across his face looked the same as it always had: playful and full of trouble.
“Well, shit, Scooter. College girl here’s ‘bout to show us how it’s done.”
Scott Hanson, a.k.a Scooter, appeared from behind Tad, looking like he’d had a few too many already. And it was only ten o’clock. He was short and wiry, and always itching for a fight. Short man syndrome sure didn’t miss him, but the funny part was that I’d never seen him lose. He had crazy on his side—and nobody can account for crazy in a fight.
“I reckon she is, Tad. Ain’t never met a girl that could drink like Izzy.”
“You never will,” I countered. “Some of us are just naturally gifted.”
“You assholes plannin’ to stand out there in the dark all night long or are you gonna join the rest of us?” another male called out from near the distant bonfire. His voice fell far less pleasantly on my ears.
“Ugh…Simmons is here?” I groaned.
“Now, Izzy,” Tad started in an attempt to placate me. “He ain’t nearly as bad as you remember.”
“Really?” I asked, doing nothing to hide my incredulous tone.
“Aw, now you can’t still be mad about that, can ya? That there was just a misunderstanding is all….”
“Tad,” I started, sounding every bit as condescending as I felt, “getting drunk out of your mind, then dousing your balls with alcohol and setting them on fire in my parents’ front yard at two in the morning while screaming the words to the national anthem—incorrectly, might I add—is hardly a misunderstanding. I was grounded for three weeks after Simmons did that! You guys are lucky my father didn’t press charges just so he could turn around and defend you!”
“Yer parents were just bein’ hard on you for no good reason,” he argued.
“Well, that might be a valid point, but you seem to have forgotten the part where Simmons confessed his undying—and still very naked—love to me while my dad stormed out the front door, then told him we’d eloped just before hopping into the back of your pickup truck and bailing.”
“Oh yeah,” Scooter laughed. “I did forget ‘bout that part.”
“That’s because you were barely conscious in the front seat, Scooter,” I pointed out. He had the good sense to look sheepish about it.
“Well now, Izzy, it’s best we let bygones be bygones.” Tad clinked his bottle against mine and pressed it to his lips, then threw his head back and chugged it down in what seemed like four swallows.
Yep, the night was about to get interesting indeed.
I put down about half of my beer before pulling it from my mouth. The boys looked satisfied with my effort and started back toward the party. I hung back for a moment, mentally gearing up for the bullshit I was going to have to tolerate there. The whispers. The pointing. The none-too-subtle passive aggressive comments. I looked down at the beer in my hand then drank down the rest of it, tossing the empty to the ground.
“Let’s do this, boys.”
There were more people there than I’d bargained for. In fact, I would have sworn that everyone between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five that lived in a fifteen mile radius of town had decided to join the festivities that night. Small towns: recreational activities were always at a premium there. The good news was the crowd gave me a bit more anonymity than I would have otherwise had. The bad news was that once I set foot near the bonfire and my presence there was known, the rumor mill started turning.
“Now don’t you pay them no mind, Izzy,” Tad said in my ear, his arm wrapping around my shoulder. “They’re just jealous is all.”
“Jealous of me walking in on my boyfriend screwing someone else? Yeah. I can totally see the appeal there.”
“You know that’s not what I meant. They’re just jealous of you in general. Been waitin’ to see somethin’ like this happen to you for years.” Didn’t I know that was the truth. “You just come hang with Scooter, Simmons, and me, and you’ll be right as rain. We’ll claim us a nice little spot by the fire and hang out there all night.” I looked over to the crowd camped out around the fire and shot him a dubious look. He actually seemed offended by my doubt. “Simmons. Find us somewhere to plop our asses.”
Seconds later, Simmons had a crowd of scrawny teens scrambling to get out of his way. He really could be a scary asshole, but I was thankful for that trait in the moment. The three of us pushed our way through the crowd to join him at our new post for the night. As long as they kept me plied with alcohol and tales of their craziness, the night wasn’t going to be a complete waste.
A couple hours and many beers later (with a shot or two of tequila in between), things were looking up. Music was blasting, people were dancing, and I was far too drunk to care who was talking crap about me. One of my favorite songs came on and I launched up off of the log I’d been sitting on, knocking Scooter’s beer from his hand on my way.
I immediately started dancing in place, jumping around in the middle of the three boys, who remained seated to watch the show.
“You guys are no fun!” I screamed at them over the music.
“I’m havin’ plenty of fun watchin’ you make an ass of yerself,” Tad said with a sly smile.
“Dickhead.”
“Ain’t never claimed to be nothin’ else.”
“That’s a double negative, Tad.”
“Double what now?”
I threw my head back and laughed, wondering how that boy ever passed Mrs. Wilders’ English class.
When I pulled my eyes away from the sky, they fell upon a sight that stopped me cold for a second. Jason and his lanky-legged strumpet had just walked into the group. It didn’t look like he’d seen me yet, but I knew that was just a matter of time. I sat back down in a hurry and stole Tad’s beer, slamming the whole thing down before grabbing my bottle of tequila and taking a big swig.
“Ain’t no need to black out in the next five minutes, Izzy,” Tad said, looking a bit concerned.
“What’s gotten into you, girl?” Scooter asked, looking around. I could see the realization dawn in his expression when his eyes found Jason and his new girl. “Well don’t that take a brass pair?”
Simmons and Tad turned to see what he was looking at. Their combined sharp inhale said all there was to say.
“She ain’t as pretty as you,” Scooter told me, a genuine look of sympathy on his face. The others quickly agreed.
“Jesus, you guys,” I said with a snort. “You turn into chicks since I left, or something? I’m fine. I’ll be fine…”
“Well, which is it, Izzy, girl? Are ya fine, or will you be fine?” Tad asked, his eyes far more serious than I’d ever remembered seeing them.
“Am fine. Present tense.”
With that, I stood up on shaky legs, snatched up my bottle of tequila, and stomped off towards the woods, the boys calling after me as I did. I tripped on a rock jutting out of the ground and stumbled into someone lurking along the edge of the crowd. He caught me before I fell and helped me up. When I looked up at him, I was relieved not to recognize him at all. He was cute and young, and, from what I could tell, not from Johnsonville, which made him the perfect boy.
“Hey there,” he said, helping steady me on my feet. “You didn’t need to throw yourself at me to get me to notice ya. You might just be the prettiest thing here.”
“You want to get this
pretty girl a drink? I seem to have spilled mine…”
We both looked at my empty bottle of tequila and laughed. Draping an arm around my neck, he led me away from his friends to one of the various coolers of beer stashed around the fire and grabbed two out of it. Then he headed towards the woods where it was quieter. That was just fine with me. I could see Jason looking over at me, noticing me with my new friend. It brought a smile to my face. I reached up and cupped the boy’s face and pulled it down to mine, kissing him fiercely.
When I stopped, he looked down at me with an eager expression.
“Drunk and easy. Just how I like ‘em.”
“You got a name?” I asked, letting him steer me away from the party.
“Camden. You?”
“You don’t know who I am?” It may have sounded snobby, but I didn’t care. I wanted to know.
“Should I?”
“Nope. I’m nobody.”
“Well, your name ain’t that important to me anyway,” he said, smiling wider. We were nearly at the tree line when I felt a hand on my wrist, yanking me away from my new friend. I turned to find Braxton staring down at me. His eyes were filled with irritation.
“Tad is looking for you, Izzy. I think you best head back that way. He’s worried about you.”
“Tad your boyfriend?” Camden asked. I shook my head no. “Then, friend, I don’t think you need to be too concerned with that she’s doing.” He stepped to Braxton, letting him know he needed to back down. Unfortunately for Camden, he didn’t know that that would never happen.
“I think that you, friend, need to walk away before you lose them pretty white teeth you’re flashing at me.” Braxton stepped closer to Camden. So close that I could only see their profiles with little to no space between them. “And she is my concern, so whatever you’re thinking about doing, you best think again.”
While I stood and watched them posture, the world around me started to swim. My rapid drinking approach was starting to backfire. That was the problem with drinking fast. It felt fine while you were doing it, then it hit you like a ton of bricks. And, if you drank more than you could handle, it would knock you down like one too.
“Whoa,” I mumbled, staggering off to my left. I crashed to the ground and tried to push myself up.
“Iz!” Braxton called, rushing to my side.
“She’s more trouble than she’s worth,” Camden said as he walked away. “She’s all yours, buddy.”
I felt his arms around my waist, trying to help me up, but I pushed them away. Opting to show him just how much I didn’t need him, I pulled myself up on a nearby tree and leaned against it, praying the world would soon stop spinning. When it didn’t, I knew I was in trouble.
“I’m taking you home.”
“The hell you are!” I shouted back. When I tried to charge him to give him a piece of my mind, I started to lean to the right and walked right past him, about to fall over again. But this time, he caught me.
“Izzy Lancaster, I’m about to take your drunk ass home, understand?”
“I bet you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Not particularly.”
“Oh…did I ruin your plans? Hunting for another pretty young thing to drop me for so you can never talk to me again? Or at least for a year or so until you change your mind?”
“Iz, you’re drunk. You need to go home.”
“I need to get the fuck out of this town. That’s what I need to do.”
I was shouting still, and, when I stopped long enough to pay attention to what was going on around me, I realized that the music had stopped. Though the party was behind me, I was certain that everyone was staring at the drunk Izzy show. I didn’t give a shit though. I was about to let them all know exactly what I thought.
“This place is a cesspool of inbred, redneck, stuck-here-for-the-rest-of-your-life assholes. I don’t give a shit about it or anyone here. The only reason my parents stay here is because my mom loves parading her rich ass around town. She loves being a big fish in this tiny, infested pond.” I turned to find exactly what I expected to see: a mob of people staring at me silently. “You think I give a shit that you’re all talking about me. About how Jason fucked his whore at the party the other night? Here’s a newsflash for you: I don’t. That was the best thing that ever happened to me because it severed the last tie I had to this piece of shit town. So fuck him. Fuck you. And fuck this place.” By this point I was waving the bird around with both hands while Braxton held me up by my waist. “There…now you have something to talk about tomorrow. You’re welcome!”
With that, I could feel the contents of my stomach roiling, threatening to make their way back up. I pulled myself out of Braxton’s grip and stumbled into the woods to throw up in private. I didn’t make it far, but it was far enough to not have an audience. After I’d puked up at least three beers, I tried to stand up, only to fall down next to the puddle of vomit I’d thrown up at the base of a tree. I felt horrible and wanted to just pass out there in the trees. I wanted to forget that night had ever happened. Forget that I’d just done and said all that I had. I was hurt and angry and volatile, and when I added alcohol to that recipe, it clearly ended in disaster.
I just wanted it all to go away.
“Well, Izzy. That was one helluva performance. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“Get lost.” The words left my mouth on a shaky, tear-filled voice.
“I know you know better than to think I’d leave you here like this,” Braxton said, the sadness in his tone clear to even my drunken mind. He scooped me up and carried me around the long way so we didn’t have to cut back through the party. He fished my keys out of my jeans’ pocket and unlocked my car, gently placing me in the passenger seat. “I suggest you do your best not to blow chunks on the way home. You’ll never get that smell out.”
I mumbled something to him while on the brink of passing out, then closed my eyes. I remembered nothing about the ride home, only Braxton carrying me into my house and putting me down on my bed. He pulled my shoes off and pulled the covers up over me.
That was the last thing I remembered until memories of the past plagued my dreams.
“Ready to go?” he asked, meeting me at the front door.
I nodded a little too eagerly and had to force myself not to roll my eyes at my lack of tact. Braxton, the good kid that he was, pretended not to notice.
“Where are we going?”
“Movies.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea? Something so public after…you know…”
“We both just broke up with our respective significant others?”
“Yeah. That.”
“You think everyone in town doesn’t already know, Izzy?”
He had me on that one.
“Fair point. Let’s go.”
He opened the passenger door to his truck for me and closed it on his way around to the driver’s side. It was strange having him be so formal with me, but a tiny part inside of me flip-flopped at the change. It meant that something between us really was different now. That we were really more than friends.
“So, what are we going to see?” I asked, trying to fill the silence settling upon us.
“You’ll see,” he replied, shooting me a mischievous glance.
“What’s with that look? What do you have planned for me, Braxton Bryant? And don’t you dare lie to me. You’re a crap liar. You always have been.”
“We’re going to the drive-in.”
“The drive-in! Jesus, Brax, why don’t you just take out a newspaper ad that says we’re having sex!”
“Because we aren’t?”
“Ha! Like the truth matters in this town. They see what they want to see.”
“Then maybe we should just have sex so that it’s at least true.”
I leaned across the truck and punched him in the arm.
“If that’s your plan for the night, you might as well turn this hunk of junk around and take me home because you
damn well know I’m not like that.”
It was true. I wasn’t a sleep around sort. I had only slept with one boy, and that was a mistake I’d regretted. Since then, I’d never let things go that far with anyone, not even Shawn. Braxton knew about that incident all too well. He’d beaten the shit out of the kid the next day for loud-mouthing about it in the boys’ locker room. He’d gotten suspended for that little stunt, but always said it was worth it.
“Iz, c’mon. I’ve managed not to sleep with you over the course of how many years? I think I can keep it in my pants for another night.”
“And after that?”
“After that, you’d better be ready for me.” He looked over and winked at me.
“You’re terrible.”
“I’m a man, Iz. I have needs.”
“I think I’m going to puke.”
His laughter erupted, forcing me to smile. I couldn’t even pretend to be mad at him with a laugh like that.
We arrived at the drive-in and found a spot. He backed into it so we could watch the movie from the bed of his truck. He laid an open sleeping bag down so we didn’t get dirty and had another one to cover us up. There was a chill to the fall night air. The dampness seemed to creep inside no matter how much clothing you wore.
“You going to be okay out here?” he asked. “I could turn the truck around so we could watch from inside.”
“No. It’s nice out here. Really.”
“Isadora Lancaster, if you’re just trying to get me to cuddle with you, all you had to do was ask.”
He hopped up into the truck bed and reached his hand out to me to help me up. Once I was standing firmly on the tailgate, he walked over to the far end and sat down, leaning against the cab of the truck. He made a space for me between his bent legs and patted the empty spot in front of him.
“It’s now or never, Iz. Everyone’s watching. Might as well give them something to talk about.”
1983: Cruel Summer (Love in the 80s #4) Page 4
