Night Prowler Part One
Page 13
We were finally in the restaurant, waiting for our food.
“Yeah!” Annika agreed. “I love ice cream.”
“You girls are wasted,” Evan chided, leaning towards Annika. She turned red.
“My words aren’t slurring,” Sam said, slightly swaying in her chair. Mitch put his arm around her and laughed. “Besides,”
she continued, perfectly sober, “when people in my family get drunk, they just get sleepy.”
“I guess that’s better than being an angry drunk,” I laughed.
“Damn straight,” Sam said. “I only had one drink anyway. I just really like ice cream. Oh, and my cousin makes the best desserts. Chocolate mousse…” she moaned a little and Mitch cleared this throat.
“You just like the mousse because it has rum in it,” Cami said, waving a dessert menu across the table.
“No,” Sam snapped. “That’s just a perk.”
“Oh shut up,” Mitch laughed. “None of you are drinkers.”
“Cami’s a drinker,” Sam and Annika said in unison.
“I think I can deal with that,” I said thoughtfully.
“Oh you wish you could deal with this,” Cami said, gesturing to her pathetic excuse for a dress (but perfectly reasonable excuse for lingerie).
“Uh, yeah, I do,” I answered flatly. She stared at me for a moment, a little confused, then gently punched my chest when a grin crept across my face.
“You know, the limo’s outside. You two could borrow it for an hour,” Evan joked, gesturing towards to windows, through which the limo could be seen.
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Samantha Steele
“Oh, no,” Cami said. “He has to actually buy me dinner first. Taking me to the restaurant doesn’t count.”
Everyone laughed, and our food came soon after. The guys all ordered steaks, while the girls ordered dainty salads, fish, and pasta. Everything was delicious, and I enjoyed continuous flirtation with Cami, until we’d just finished dinner, when her psycho ex-boyfriend called.
“Oh, my God,” Cami said, looking at her cell phone.
“This is ridiculous. I blocked his cell, but I forgot to block his home number. I better take this or he’ll call all night.”
She walked out the front door to the sidewalk. I watched her through the windows. At first she just looked annoyed, but then she got more animated and I heard her muffled shouts. A few people started to stare. Just as I was about to get up and ask what was going on, she hung up and strode back to the table.
“Is everything okay?” Sam asked.
“He wants me to go home,” Cami snorted.
“Why?” I asked. She gave me a look that made me feel stupid for asking.
“Because he’s pissed that I’m with another guy. I never should have led him on like that. I figured he hated Sam so much he’d just leave. No such luck,” she sighed.
“Oh, well,” Annika said. “He’s a sophomore and I know no one asked him to prom. He won’t ruin our night.”
“Yeah, Cami,” Sam said. “We’ll be fine. Unless he decides to act on that wanting to kill me thing tonight.”
We all laughed and ordered dessert.
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Evan Cage
“What do you want?” I whispered in Annika’s ear.
“Chocolate ice cream,” she said, not looking at me. “It has rum in it.” I laughed.
“So it does. I think I’ll have the crème brûlée,” I said, glancing down at Annika’s body - again. I couldn’t help looking.
She was wearing a skin-tight black cotton halter dress with an extremely low-cut top, and a long hole down the front that left her newly-pierced bellybutton and a strip of her stomach and lower ribcage exposed. Her dirty-blonde hair was in loose, wavy curls cascading down her back.
Sam
had
apparently
talked Annika into putting make-up on, and her eyes looked bigger and brighter under the heavy black eyeliner. Her thick, black lashes cast shadows on her cheekbones.
Sam had also, amazingly, talked Annika out of wearing her beat-up old Chucks, and instead she was wearing what looked like an old pair of black, chunky suede sandals. I assumed they were Sam’s, because the seams were pink. Her finger-and toenails were painted black, and she had a simple silver locket and pearl studs in her ears.
Cami was wild and eye-catching. Sam was daring and seductive.
But Annika was sexy, yet simple. It made me crazy.
“So,” I said after we’d all piled into the limo. “It’s seven now, and prom starts at eight. We can drop our stuff off at my dad’s hotel right now, and go to prom later, if that sounds okay?”
“Are we gunna meet Joan Jett?” Sam blurted.
“Well… she’s really busy,” I began in a sympathetic voice.
“It’s okay, Sam,” Annika said, patting her friend on the back.
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Samantha Steele
“So… we’re going to have to wait until after her show,” I finished. Sam’s head snapped up and a huge grin spread across her face.
“So we DO get to meet Joan Jett?” she exclaimed. I laughed and nodded.
“Oh, my God!” Sam screamed, looking at Mitch. “I get to meet Joan Jett! She’s my idol! I LOVE Joan Jett!”
“I know,” Mitch laughed, putting his arms around her to keep her from bolting. “I wish you’d get this excited about seeing me.”
“Oh, Sam’s a lesbian, didn’t you know that?” Cami stated.
“I am not!” Sam denied, slapping Cami’s arm. “But Joan Jett made female rocker history. It was her idea to start The Runaways, she kept the band together after Cherie Currie split, and she’s the only one who went on to make a serious name for herself. Well, I guess Lita Ford got pretty famous. I respect Joan and wish to make just as big of an impact.”
“You sound like a hippie,” I said. She glared at me.
“Fuck global warming,” she said. “There. How hippie am I now?”
“You’re hippie enough to need a drink,” Mitch grunted, pouring rum and coke into a glass. Sam took it with a nasty stare and began sipping.
“I think we’re all hippie enough to need a drink,” I said, passing around the rum.
“I second that,” Cami said, greedily snatching a soda can from the mini fridge.
By the time we reached the hotel, everyone but Bryce, who’s the biggest, was fairly tipsy. Sam tripped over her chunky heels and giggled all the way to her room, her bag dragging on the floor. I’m surprised we didn’t get in trouble.
My dad reserved three rooms for us, all connected. When he told me this, I’d laughed and asked if he was worried that we’d all be having sex. He said, “If I get you three adjoining rooms, it’s like getting you one big room. No guy wants to have sex with his best friend watching.”
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That’s my dad for you.
We hung out in the hotel watching TV and talking for about two hours, just enough time for us all to start sobering up.
Finally Sam realized that if we didn’t leave soon, we’d miss Joan Jett.
“I cannot miss this!” she cried. “Meeting her is not enough! I have to see her play!”
The limo was still parked in front of the hotel when we came out, and the driver opened the door for us and drove the few blocks to the other hotel. In that short period of time, the girls managed to get completely trashed.
When we walked into the lobby of the hotel, there was a sign telling us to check in at the front desk with our prom tickets.
The ballroom was behind it.
“Zac!” Sam called. “I thought you were a waiter,” she slurred, pointing and smiling at the man at the front desk.
“Got a new job,” he said, waving hello.
“When did you start working here?” I asked, completely surprised.
“About a month ago,” he said. “Got sick of Mitch taking my hours.”
“You’ll never let that
go, will you?” Mitch laughed.
“Zac, guess what?” Sam slurred again. “I’m dating Mitch!
Isn’t he sweet? Oh, and guess what? I’m totally wasted!”
“Shh,” Mitch said, holding in his laughter. “Babe, you’ll get Evan’s mom in trouble, and we’ll get kicked out.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “I like Evan’s mom.”
“You got her drunk?” Zac snapped.
“My mom left a few bottles of rum in the limo,” I said quietly. “They’ll all pretty tipsy. Be cool, man. You know we won’t hurt them.”
“Jacob’s on the prom committee,” Zac whispered, leaning over the desk to talk to us. “He’s working valet. What if he sees you?”
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Samantha Steele
“Limo, Zac! He has no reason to see us. And if he does, what the hell? My uncle’s the DA,” I said, waving away his concern.
“Okay,” Zac sighed. “But if he tries to kill Sam, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Oh he’s been wanting to kill her for months,” Mitch said.
“I wish he’d just get it over with.”
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Macy Hawskins
I was standing by the punch table, sullenly sipping from a red party cup. For the past hour, I’d been carefully watching the door, waiting for Mitch, Evan, Bryce, and their dates to come in.
“Aha!” I cried triumphantly to myself when I spied them.
Sam was in wearing a skin-tight black leather dress (that I was secretly insanely jealous of) and tripping over her chunky heels.
“That’s odd,” I said to myself. Then it hit me; she was drunk!
Sam doesn’t wear heels often, but I’d seen her wear them often enough to know that those five-inch platforms wouldn’t be a challenge for her to walk in. But she was clinging to Mitch, giggling and stumbling all the way to the tables, where she plopped down and started begging for food and coffee.
“Would you have gotten me drunk, too?” I asked silkily when Mitch walked over to fill a plate for food for his girlfriend.
“I didn’t get her drunk,” Mitch answered, not looking at me. “She did it all by herself. Then again, you always get drunk all by yourself, too, so yeah, you would have been just as trashed, if not more, than she is.”
“Well you better keep her in line,” I growled. “Or I just might tell someone you gave her alcohol.”
“Be my guest, Macy,” she sighed, looking me in the eyes.
“For all I know, you’re so high off your ass right now you don’t even know who I am.”
“Fuck you,” I snorted, watching him walk away. How dare he think I’m high! I only took one hit!
I stayed by the snack bar for most of the dance. Not a single guy asked me anything. Not to dance, not to hand him a cup, not to move. Nothing. It was like I was invisible or something.
It was miserable.
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Samantha Steele
Yet I couldn’t bring myself to leave, as if doing so would prove I wasn’t popular anymore. It was now that I realized I didn’t actually have any friends. Not even fake friends. I’d always just followed Mitch or Evan around, or been followed by Austin.
But now that no one was interested in me, I experienced something new: boredom.
I watched Mitch and Sam, who had clearly started to sober up, walk to the dance floor during a slow song. They started dancing, and I had to fight back tears. I’d always wanted to dance with Mitch. I’d always wanted to have what Sam had.
Jealously, anger, and rejection built up in my throat like bile and I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the burning tears welling in my eyes. I felt utterly and completely alone.
Yet a tiny voice in my head whispered, This is what you deserve. You lied about Evan. You have no idea if you’ve ever slept with him, because you get so drunk every time that you can’t remember anything past second base.
You’re a disgusting, dirty failure.
My conscience ate away at me all the way back to the hotel lobby, where I finally let a few tears escape. I saw Zac still working the front desk, and kept my back to him as I went outside to the valet station.
Cami’s psycho ex-boyfriend was standing at the podium, drumming his fingers. He stood up straight when he saw me.
“Number forty-three,” I choked, handing him my paper slip.
“Hey, you’re Macy Hawskins, right?” he asked softly, taking the paper slip and looking for the matching key. I nodded.
“Are you okay?”
“No!” I cried, finally bursting into tears. Jacob walked out from behind the podium and put his arm around me, handing me my key.
“What’s wrong?”
“Mitch doesn’t like me, and neither does Evan!” I managed through my choking sobs. “And now they’re seeing Joan
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Jett, and after that they’re going to Whitmeister, where they all have private rooms! That bitch totally stole my DATE!”
“You know,” Jacob said slyly, “I’m stopping her tonight.”
“What?” I said, my nose stuffy and running again. I looked up at him and my sobs calmed. He had a sinister smile on his face.
“Let’s just say she won’t be ruining anyone’s plans ever again. Unless someone else wants her grave spot later on.”
“What are you talking about?” I said, shoving him away from me and stumbling back. It sounded like he was planning on killing her or something.
“Well you see, at first I was planning on killing her in the car, but they happened to take a limo instead. Valets don’t park limos. So for a long time, I was at a loss on how to kill her. But now you’ve told me where she’s staying tonight, so I know exactly what to do.”
I knew I needed to run away, to go call the police, but my legs were frozen to the sidewalk. I just stood there, staring.
“But you don’t seem to be interested in assisting me, so, in that case, I’m going to have to kill you.”
I felt my nose crack as his fist collided with my face, and I fell backward onto the sidewalk. I heard the sickening smack of my skull on the concrete, and then everything went black.
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Samantha Steele
Samantha Steele
It was nearly midnight, and I was almost completely sober again. My insides felt a little queasy, but my head had a nice fuzzy hum and I had regained almost complete control over my motor functions.
“Did they forget about Joan Jett?” I asked as Mitch handed me a cup of water, relieved I was no longer slurring my words. “Prom’s over in an hour.”
“She’ll probably come out last. Most people have given up by now,” Evan said. I looked around. He was right. Of the original three-hundred fifty people, there were probably only one-hundred fifty left. I chewed absently on a piece of bread.
“Hey,” Annika suddenly said. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Mitch asked, looking around.
“They turned off the music.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I heard over the loudspeaker.
“Joan Jett!”
I screamed.
The DJ station was gone from the stage. I’d been trying so hard to stay awake (I told you people in my family get sleepy when they drink) that I hadn’t been paying any attention to the stage crew. The lights dimmed so low I could barely see Mitch six inches from me. Spotlights swirled around the stage curtain and I heard the first few chords of I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll.
The curtain flew to the sides, and Joan Jett was illuminated just as she began to sing. I bolted towards the stage, shoving people out of my way and nearly tripping over my chunky heels, getting there just in time for the chorus. Cami and Annika were right on my heels, though not nearly as ecstatic as I was.
I stood just below the stage, directly in front of Joan Jett, singing along and throwing the most spectacular air guitar performance of my life. Cami pulled the drumsticks out of her
141
hair and drummed on the railing separating us from the stage, and Annika joined me in precious head-banging and air-strumming.
The song was nearly over by the time to boys worked their way to us. Bryce knew the lyrics, but Evan and Mitch looked quite lost by the time Annika and I were screaming to Bad Reputation.
“South Anchorage High School, how are you?” Joan called at the end of Bad Reputation. The few of us who were left must have been mostly die-hard fans, because the screaming was louder than the amps.
“Well, I haven’t had such an enthusiastic crowd since The Runaways went to Tokyo!” Joan called.
“CHERRY BOMB!” I screamed, my voice just barely heard over the cheering. Joan Jett looked across the crowd for a second before locking eyes with me.
“You want me to play Cherry Bomb?” she asked. I nodded vigorously and the crowd starting chanting, “Cherry Bomb! Cherry Bomb!”
“Can’t stay at home, can’t stay at school, old folks say you poor little fool!”
I screamed in delight and sang along at the top of my lungs. I felt like the concert was specifically for me. They played all my favorite songs: I Love Playin’ With Fire, I Hate Myself for Loving You, Crimson and Clover, even You Drive Me Wild and Is It Day or Night? by The Runaways. I figured Evan must have pulled some pretty tight strings for me.
“Alright,” Joan said after playing Love Me Two Times.
“So, a friend of mine has a nephew who’s friends with one of my bigger fans.” A lump of excitement swelled painfully in my throat and I looked at Evan. He shrugged and smiled. “So we’re going to give her and her friends a special treat. So, Sam? Why don’t you come up here? Yeah, you girls, too.”
I started shaking as Annika, Cami, and I made our way up the steps on the side of the stage.
“Okay, sweetheart, what’s your favorite song?” she asked.
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Samantha Steele
“Is It Day or Night?” I choked. “But you already played that, so Dead End Justice.” Joan smiled and beckoned to a stagehand, who brought me another microphone.
“You be Cherie. I’ll be me.”
I started panting with excitement.
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Annika Dixon
“Can I play guitar?” I interrupted. Joan looked at me.
“You know the chords already?” I nodded vigorously.