“This girl gave me a hand job in the bathroom.” He nods proudly.
Joey pats him on the back. “She was a fuckin’ butterface, but she was down for giving this fool a tug.”
“She wasn’t a total butterface,” Keegan protests. “She was at least a seven or an eight, dude.”
“Yeah, okay.” Joey rolls his eyes.
“I’m sure she was great,” I say, trying to be reassuring to Keegan. “Don’t let this fuckin’ asshole try to push his bullshit on you. Have you seen the kind of girls he fucks?”
“Hot girls!” Joey says with a cocky grin.
“Drunk girls—girls who need to take Breathalyzers before they’re allowed to make any decisions,” I joke. “Even this guy looks good when you’re too fucked up to see straight.”
Keegan laughs, and Joey flips me the bird.
“Yeah, fuck you, Joey,” Keegan says to him. “That girl was hot. You don’t know shit.”
I snicker, but I do my best to hold it back. Keegan’s the dude who takes what he can get and he’s basically in awe of any girl who will let him touch her. He’s actually a good guy, even if he’s influenced by Joey’s bullshit.
“You guys wanna get out of here? My cousin can get us into the strip club out in the city,” Joey offers.
“Nah, dude, I’m tired as hell.” I shake my head.
“I’d be tired too after that girl,” Keegan says. “She’s fuckin’ gorgeous, dude.”
I chuckle and pat the kid on the back. “And someday you’ll get a really gorgeous girl too, my Padawan learner.”
Keegan laughs, and though Joey’s pretending he’s pissed off, he laughs too.
I convince the guys to bail on the strip club idea, since I’m driving and I don’t want to cart these assholes all the way to the city just to see some tits. I drop Keegan off at his dorm and Joey off at the apartment he shares with two of his cousins before I head back to my parents’ house to crash.
I think I’ll text Caroline tomorrow and see if she wants to hang out and do something normal. Girls like that tend to feel weird about spur-of-the-moment fucks during a party, and I don’t want her to get all paranoid about it. I wasn’t just there to fuck; I was there to hang out and meet some cool girls, which I did.
I flop down on my pillow and make a plan in my head to call her in the morning and see if she wants breakfast. I want to go over to Lola’s tomorrow afternoon, and I want to be there when she’s getting ready for prom. I don’t know why, but I just feel like I should be around when Marcus comes to pick her up. Plus, I really want to see what she’s going to wear and how she’s going to look—really, super, majorly pretty, I bet. I’ve never really seen her all dolled up, and she usually doesn’t even wear makeup around me, so this should be quite the transformation. I want to do something special for her tomorrow night, since she’s ditching prom just to hang out with me. I’m not sure what yet, but I’ll come up with something cool for us to do.
I fall asleep pretty fast, determined to get some rest for both Caroline and Lola tomorrow.
Chapter 6
Lola
I’M PUTTING THE FINISHING touches on my makeup as James lies on his side on my bed in a white V-neck T-shirt and worn out old jeans, watching me apply eye shadow. He seems fascinated with the process of lipstick and mascara as he watches my face transform from plain to glamorous. I don’t wear a lot of makeup normally, just the occasional eyeliner or lip gloss, but tonight is prom and I want to look glammed up, even if I’m just going as Marcus’s beard.
“Wow, Lo,” James says, smiling. “I can’t believe how pretty your lips look.”
“Jeez, thanks.” I smile back at him.
“Seriously, you could do a fuckin’ lipstick commercial.”
I give him an exaggerated supermodel pout and then blow him a kiss. He raises his eyebrows and playfully applauds.
“All right, out.” I grin at him as I motion for him to stand up. “I’ve gotta put my dress on, and you don’t need to be in here for that.”
“Lo,” he says, smirking, “I’ve seen you in your underwear before. I’ve seen you naked for fuck’s sake.”
“Yeah, when I was, like, eight,” I scoff. We used to do a little you-show-me-yours-I’ll-show-you-mine when we were kids.
“I’ve seen you in those tiny-ass bikinis you wear, so a bra and panties is nothing to me,” he counters.
I pause for a minute and shake my head at him. “Nope, out of here.”
“Aw! But I was so comfortable!” he whines with phony exasperation before he grumpily stands up and steps toward the door.
I laugh as I go into the closet and slip on my pale, orange sherbet colored dress. I mostly picked it out because it was on sale, since I’m not really doing the whole prom thing, but I do like the way it fits. The top has bunched strips of fabric that go diagonally across my chest to downplay my ginormous boobs. It’s fitted through the waist, then it flares out at the hips and becomes silky and flowing, which makes me look taller. I bought it because it was my version of an Oscar-worthy gown—at least as much as a $29.99 T.J.Maxx dress can be Oscar-worthy.
“Need me to zip you up?” James’s voice says from behind me.
“Really, dude?” I chuckle. “You really couldn’t wait until I was dressed?”
“What?” He flashes me the classic James Laird: Lovable Troublemaker smile. “You’re pretty much dressed. And, like I said, I’ve seen you in less.”
I roll my eyes at him and then lift my hair over my shoulder so he can zip up the back of my dress. Might as well have him do it, since he’s standing right here.
“Not used to putting clothes on a girl, I bet,” I tease.
“Look out!” He laughs. “She’s bringin’ the sass tonight.”
I chuckle and turn around to face him. He gives me a smart-ass grin. I’ve seen that grin many times, usually when he’s gotten his way and convinced me to do something risky. Most of the time, that meant ditching class or staying out late with him. I was quite the Goody-Two-Shoes, so I think he liked getting me into a little bit of trouble every now and then.
“What do you think?” I giggle, doing a little twirl.
“Perfection!” He smiles broadly. “It’s too bad Marcus is gay, because that dress makes your tits look amazing. A straight guy would get a boner just looking at you.”
“Charming.” I roll my eyes.
He laughs loudly and then flops back down on the bed to watch me finish my hair.
I curl the ends so the waves all go the same direction instead of the wild mess that usually sits atop my head. James is quiet as he watches me, occasionally cocking his head to the side to see what I’m doing.
“Enjoying the show?” I smirk.
He nods with a big smile. “You’re, like, all womanly now,” he murmurs. “I remember when you were scrawny with braces. Now you’re, like, this hot chick.”
I chuckle and blush. James always compliments me in less-than-eloquent ways. He can be smooth and charming with other girls, but he tends to be very straightforward with me and tell me exactly what’s on his mind. For the past few years, he’s told me that my tits look big in my tank tops or my ass looks good in my shorts. He never means it in a come-on kind of way, just as an observation. He’s slept with nearly every girl in town and he’s very familiar with the nuances of the female form, so I take his compliments in stride and appreciate him telling me I look attractive. He’s usually the only boy who says it, since he spent so many years terrifying the other guys in school away from flirting with me.
Finally my hair is all done, and I slip on my heels as I await Marcus’s arrival. Prom is going to be short and sweet for me. Marcus and I will get in the limo with a few of our friends, take lots of pictures so he can show his parents later, arrive at the dance and quickly part ways so he can spend prom with his boyfriend and I can ditch the teenage cliché soiree altogether. He gets to let his parents go on believing he’s straight, I get to make my mom happy by saying I went to this t
otally lame “milestone” of high school life, and neither of us has to inconvenience ourselves with awkward pretenses and expectations.
“Let me get some pictures of you in your beautiful dress,” my mom says when James and I walk into the living room.
“Mom,” I whine, rolling my eyes, “this isn’t even real.”
“I know, I know,” she says, “but you still look lovely, and I still want pictures.”
My mom knows the deal, that I’m only doing this to cover for Marcus. Still, she seems as excited as if it were the real thing. I think that, deep down, she wishes I had some great boyfriend and I was going to be whisked away to a glorious prom like some kind of fairy tale. I just get the impression that a tiny part of her wants me to be excited for normal high school things like all the rest of the girls.
“She looks totally gorgeous,” James says as he stands beside my mom and watches my sarcastic posing.
“Doesn’t she!” my mom gushes. “So grown up.”
He smiles proudly at me before I whine in protest of this impromptu photo shoot.
“I never went to prom, you know?” he confesses to my mom.
“Get out of here! With all the girlfriends you had, how did you not go to prom?” she asks with surprise.
“I just wasn’t feelin’ it.” He shrugs. “I think I was pretty over high school by that point.”
In reality, James didn’t go because he’d slept with nearly every single girl in the senior class and he was worried about igniting a riot when it came time to choose a solitary prom date. It would have become like a Jerry Springer version of the rose ceremonies in The Bachelor complete with hair pulling and a lot of “bitch, he’s mine!” posturing. Every girl thought he’d ask her, but he didn’t like high school traditions and he wasn’t planning to go anyway. Instead, he and I hung out at my house and watched a bunch of Seinfeld episodes on the couch in the basement.
“Get in there and let me take some pictures of you guys,” my mom says, ushering James over to me.
He looks bashful, and his smile is shy and sweet. This particular smile is my favorite, since he’s usually very carefree and cocksure. His shy smile is really endearing and adorable, and it makes me want to give him a big hug.
He puts his arm around me, and I lean into him and rest my head against his chest. Oh, James. Tough guy, Casanova, ultra-charmer, but really just a big old sweetheart deep down. A lot of people throw around the term BFF, but he really is my Best Friend Forever.
He turns his head to me and looks in my eyes adoringly for a moment, and I return his gaze with a warm smile. Even though I’m still nearly a foot shorter than him with heels on, this would have made a cute prom photo.
“These are our prom pics.” I smile up at him. “Since you didn’t go and I’m only going as part of a big charade, tonight is our personal prom.”
“I dig that idea, kid.” He grins sweetly.
Almost on cue, the doorbell rings, and my mom answers. Marcus steps inside, and he does a double take when he sees James, who looks like he just stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad. Apparently Mr. Laird has that effect on more than just women.
“Hey, man.” James nods at him.
“You’re back?” Marcus says with a smile.
“Just for a few days to visit her.” He points to me.
“That’s so sweet,” Marcus says.
“Marcus, honey, do you want me to take some pictures to show your parents?” my mom says, giving Marcus a nod that acknowledges she’s aware of the situation.
“Sure, that’d be great,” he says, smiling.
I want to tell him to stop freaking out about his parents. My mom accepts him, James accepts him, everybody at school accepts him, and I’m sure his parents won’t do anything drastic when they find out. They probably already know and they just don’t want to put him on the spot.
Marcus stands next to me and puts his arm around my shoulder. I move closer to him, and we pose like we’re a couple.
“Put your arm lower,” James instructs. “Really sell it.”
Marcus smiles at him, and my mom snickers.
“Here,” James says, stepping over, “like this.”
He stands next to me and puts his arm low around my waist, his hand resting on my hip. He pulls me against his body, and I curve into him like ivy growing on a building.
“Look in her eyes and stuff,” James instructs, demonstrating by giving me a flirty glance. “Make it look real.”
“Thank you for the notes, Mr. Spielberg.” I roll my eyes to Marcus, and he chuckles.
Marcus heeds James’s advice, and we look every bit the happy couple. The photos make it seem like we’re some couple out of the fifties going steady. He’s elated, and I tell him I’ll email him the pics so he can show his parents.
“You ready to go?” He smiles at me.
“Sure.” I smile back and take his arm.
“Have fun, you guys,” my mom says.
“Call me when you want me to come get you,” James says.
“Will do,” I reply, heading toward the limo.
Inside are a few of our mutual friends and their significant others. My friends Naveen, Jacob and Zoe are there with their dates, and we look like a Benetton commercial, a group of different races all smiling and laughing.
When we finally arrive, we head inside and scope out the surroundings. The popular kids are gathered on one side of the room in a big pod. There are smaller clusters all around, and there are a few kids sitting at tables. My friends are all excited, so I don’t want to be Debbie Downer, but it seems pretty lame to me.
“Hey!” says a voice from the side of us.
We turn to see Evan Katz, Marcus’s boyfriend, approaching with a big smile.
“Lola, you look gorgeous.” Evan takes my hand and gives me a little twirl.
“Why, thank you, Ev,” I reply, striking the classic America’s Next Top Model “broken doll” pose. “I had to be stylish if I was going to be Marcus’s date, even though I knew he was totally going to show me up in the looks category.”
Marcus nudges me with his hip and gives me a smile.
“Well, you look spectacular,” Evan replies kindly. “If I wasn’t with my man, I’d ask you to dance right now.”
I blush and giggle at the compliment. “Well, I’ll turn you over to your date.” I grin at Marcus. “Have fun, guys.”
“Thank you, sweetie. For everything,” Marcus whispers in my ear as he gives me a big hug.
“No problem.” I smile at him. I give Evan a hug too, and just like that, my work here is done.
Zoe convinces me to stay for a little while longer, and both Jacob and Naveen ask me to dance. I’m going to miss these guys next year, though we won’t be far away. I’m going to school out east and so are they, though we’ll be attending different universities. Zoe’s going to the School of Visual Arts in New York. Naveen’s going to NYU, and Jacob got into MIT. I’m hoping we can still meet up to visit each other, since all of us will be located in the same part of the country.
About a half an hour into this shindig, I’m feeling a little burned-out on it, so I give James a call. He answers right away and tells me he’ll be here in five minutes. I tell my friends goodbye, and we all wish each other luck with finals and make plans to hang out after graduation.
Just as I’m leaving the big event hall, I see the welcome sight of James’s crappy old Honda Civic pulling up. This car has been like his white horse for all the times he’s been my knight in shining armor and swooped in to take me out of some lame situation. He parks at the curb and gets out to open the door for me, which makes me raise my eyebrows at him in surprise.
“Your ride, m’lady,” he says with an English accent.
I giggle and get into the car. He comes around the side and puts it in drive as we leave this land of teenage make-believe behind.
“You wanna just chill at my house?” I ask.
“No, no, I’ve got something planned.” The troublemaker smi
le is back.
“Do you, now?” I can only imagine what he’s got up his sleeve for this evening.
“Yep. It’s prom night, and I want to do something special for you.”
I have to pause for a second to absorb how happy that makes me feel. “You’re such a sweetheart,” I say fondly.
“That’s just how I roll,” he says with a cocky twinkle in his eye.
I look out the window as we drive up and away from town. We head up the mountain that overlooks the university area and our neighborhood below, and he drives up the winding road until we’re high enough to see the expansive panorama of lights. He pulls off onto a dirt road just past the scenic overlook and continues until we get to a clearing where there’s a big, flat rock.
“Come on,” he says, putting the car in park and getting out.
I follow him, and he leads me over to the rock. It’s large, about the size of a small SUV flattened out like a pancake. There are other big rocks around, but this one looks the most comfortable, so I hike up my dress and climb onto it.
“Oh, let me get it,” James says like he’s just remembered something.
He darts back to the car and returns with a Whole Foods bag. He joins me on the rock and starts unpacking the contents. First up are three pillar candles, which he lights and places in front us. My stomach growls as I watch him take out containers of pasta salad, bread, some kind of seasoned chicken wings, and even a sparkling grape juice.
“Fake champagne, since I didn’t want to get you liquored up,” he says, holding up the bottle as I snicker.
“You planned this little picnic just for me?”
“Uh-huh. Beats the hell out of prom, right?”
“Definitely,” I softly reply.
“So,” he says, looking over the food, “we’ve got tortellini and feta pasta salad, fresh rye, limoncello wings, and I got a tiramisu for dessert. I picked out your faves, since this night is for you.”
“I don’t even know what to say, this is…thank you.” I’m truly awestruck.
“Hey, thank you for being my best friend for all these years.” He shrugs like this beautiful spread is no big deal. “What do you want first? I’ve got some forks here, and there are napkins in the bag. I have plastic cups, too.”
Vice, Virtue & Video: Revealed (The Vice, Virtue & Video Series) Page 6
