The Lost Night

by Megan Maguire

  “Dylan, she spooks me out. Find a girl who doesn’t hang at house parties alone.”

  “She’s not spooky.”

  “Yeah, she is. Look at the way she’s eyeing you. She’s either sizing up your dick or your coffin.”

  “Either way, I’m game.”

  He crosses his arms, his cup off to the side. “She hasn’t even blinked.”

  “You can’t tell that from here.”

  “And she’s wearing the same outfit she wore last week.”

  “I wear the same coat all winter.”

  “You’re a guy. For a woman, that’s a big deal. Walk away, I’m telling ya, a lone wolf is a sign of trouble.”

  “Woot-woot-woot!” An assembly line of drunks reels through the front door with their fists pumping in the air. “Here’s to the King! What King? Fuh-King!” they chant. The tallest guy reaches up and rides the ceiling fan. He brings it down and hits the floor in a thud. Ceiling wires spark. Women scream. It’s ridiculously chaotic and tiresome. I’ve never wanted friends like this. They require way too much attention, and way too much beer.

  “Here’s to the King!” The chant continues into the dining room. “What King? Fuh-King!”

  Without the ceiling light, faces transform into shadows. I pull out a cigarette while tracking Autumn through the room. She’s moved from the corner to a heavy-curtained window.

  “Stop fussing over her. We need to get to work so we can get out of here.”

  She types something into her phone, and my pocket vibrates.

  It’s not her.

  It’s a text from Ed.

  Two blocks away. Waiting.

  I show it to Sean. He pats his hip where he keeps his gun. He’s ready, but I’m not. I need five minutes to talk to Autumn before we search the house.

  “Too soon,” I say.

  He rolls his eyes. “Hurry up and talk to her so we can go.”

  I hand him my beer and step into a wave of people, my smoke held between my lips, working my way through the raging river of kids. There’s no channel to follow. I absorb the impact of floating debris, pummeled and turned about, finally steering my way through to the other side.

  “Hi,” I say, finger-combing my hair forward before taking another drag of my smoke. She looks past me and around the room. “I said, hi.” I snap my fingers in her face. “What’s the deal? Is this another game?” She ignores me. I rub the back of my neck. “Hey, you could at least look at me.”

  “Dylan, if you can’t take the time to figure out a poem and call me, then you won’t put the time and effort into a relationship. It was a simple test. You failed. Period.”

  “What?” My nose scrunches at her dominance. “Screw you.” I head back into the flurry of people. I’m not turning into a girl’s obedient puppet. “You’re wrong. You failed, not me,” I call back.

  “She had her eyes on you the entire way across the room,” Sean says. “She say she wasn’t interested again?”

  “Forget it. I’ll pick up a slut from the bar later on.”

  “God, you’re crazy over her, or you wouldn’t be this upset. What’d she say?”

  The men in the kitchen start another chant. “Chug! Chug! Chug!” They coordinate a series of manly grunts, surrounding the keg with red cups waving in the air. The stupidity spreads into this room when the two younger kids raise their cups and join in. “Chug! Chug!”

  “How obnoxious,” Sean says.

  I take out my cell, debating if I want to call Autumn to prove her wrong. “She’s selfish. She wants a long-term boyfriend,” I tell him. “She thinks I failed her test.” I look across and see her watching me like a hawk. Screw the cell. I’ll put on a show.

  I raise my hands, about to present seven fingers to begin flashing her number, but she takes a full-blooded strut in my direction before I have a chance.

  “Dylan,” Sean says.

  I drop my arms.

  “Dylan, she’s unbuttoning her coat.” He puts a hand on his gun. “Get ready for something.”

  Her coat falls off her shoulders and slides down her arms. The sight of her body sends my cigarette tumbling from my mouth to the floor. Her snug transparent shirt, the color of her pale skin, leaves nothing, nothing, to the imagination. Bra, belly, every inch of her trim torso is visible through the fabric.

  “Holy shit,” I whisper.

  She stops in front of me, a finger on my lips, her bootheel snuffing out my smoke. “Say what’s on your mind, Dylan. Be honest. Tell me exactly what you’re thinking right this very second.” She frees my lips and waits for an answer, a strand of hair over one eye.

  “Damn,” Sean whispers, mouth hanging open.

  I hold my breath. What else would be on my mind besides sex when she’s standing an inch away looking so fine?

  Her hand latches onto my belt, tugging me forward. “With your eyes on my boobs, I know your answer, no need to say a word.” She pushes me away. “How sad.”

  I hold out my hands, palms up. “I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”

  “Nice try.” She walks to the stairs, bringing her coat up over her shoulders.

  “Hey, I know it’s obvious that I want you. You don’t have to treat me like I’m an asshole because of it!” I shout. “So what if I think you’re hot? So what? Let’s do it, okay? How ’bout that?”

  “Shh.” Sean nudges. “What are you doing?”

  “Hey, Autumn. Let’s fuck!”

  Sean lowers his head and groans. “You dumbass.”

  Autumn turns around, shocked. A ripple of silence disables the room.

  “Um … that’s not … that didn’t come out right.” I regret the words the second I see her fists.

  “Go upstairs. Tap-that-ass,” the drunks cheer.

  “Shut up!” Sean shouts.

  Autumn charges back and grabs my hand, pulling me upstairs.

  “Autumn, wait. I didn’t mean it.”

  A round of applause spreads throughout the room.

  “How do you know my name?” She glances over her shoulder.

  “Rick said it last weekend.”

  “He shouldn’t have.” She leads me past a line of ogling women sitting on the steps. Up, up, closer and closer to the bedrooms.

  “I’m sorry. Really. I can’t help it. You knock me out. Okay? Is that so wrong?”

  “It’s always the same.” She sounds disappointed. “I’ll give you what you want. Then it’s over.”

  “No, I don’t want it. I mean, I do. But not here, not now.”

  Sounds of sex, laughter, and dominant drunks flood the second floor. It’s total turmoil up here.

  “Autumn. Let’s talk.”

  Couples grind in the hall, waiting for a chance to slip into the first bedroom that’s free.

  Pull her back. Make her listen. You haven’t been hooked on a girl since Heather. Screw her now and it’s all over. Don’t. Don’t do it.

  I’m not sure why I don’t stop her. I’m stronger than she is. I can put an end to this. But I keep following, hypnotized by the warm highlights in her hair swinging across her back, being controlled by her suggestive walk and the brilliance of her burgundy coat.

  We pass a guy finger-tapping the wall next to the bathroom door. With Autumn in front of me, and all the commotion surrounding us, that’s the one thing my brain catches and retains. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I spin Autumn around. “Please, stop!” I shout at her, or at him—at both of them. Her hands rest on my arms to keep me at a safe distance.

  My eyes rake her from head to toe, her outfit turning my palms slick with sweat. Everything inside me is hot. Our eyes lock and our chests rise and fall in unison. It takes a ton of willpower not to kiss her, and a boatload of restraint not to carry her home and rip off her clothes. Discipline. It’s not easy. But the wait is electrifying, exactly what drew me to Heather.

  “I like you,” I whisper.

  She doesn’t hear me over the
noise. In a louder voice, I tell her what she wants to hear. I begin rattling off her phone number.

  Her eyes light up, and she lowers her arms.

  “I was going to call you tonight,” I say. “I figured it out last night.”

  She tries to hide a smile, biting her bottom lip, then the top, and the bottom again. Cute.

  “You ready?” She grips the handle of the door next to us.

  I shake my head. “No. I like you more than just a quick lay.”

  Sean appears at my side and slaps my back.

  “Him too,” she says. “You two ready?”

  “For what?” I ask.

  “The Snowman.” She slides off her coat, flaunting the see-through shirt again. With her hands to each side of the doorjamb, she tilts forward and flashes her cleavage, giving the door a swift kick. “Little pig, little pig, let me in.”

  The door opens a crack.

  “Hi,” she says in a sexy voice, cocking her head. “I’m here to buy some fun.” She paws at the door until it opens wider.

  A burly guy grabs her arm and pulls her inside. Sean’s next. Then me.

  The deadbolt clunks, locking us in, and we stumble in total darkness.

  10

  I feel my way up a flight of stairs to an open attic space. A dingy sheet covers the lone window, blocking the city lights from flooding the room. The pungent smell of rat piss and thick smoke clouds engulfs me whole.

  “Mack. You’ve got three waiting for some coke.”

  A low-hanging bulb dangles on a long cord from the middle of the ceiling.

  “Be right out.” A drawling voice answers from an unlit corner of the room.

  Grungy mattresses line the walls—a young woman zoned out on one, a dead mouse with its head caught in a trap on the foot of another.

  Autumn drapes her coat over her forearm and brushes her hair off her shoulders. She twists left and right, joyfully humming as she waits. Is she a dealer here for a pickup? A user? I don’t know which, but I hate it that she’s here buying drugs.

  “Mack, you got three here.”

  “I heard ya, Billy. Keep cool. They can wait.”

  I need to get a text out to Ed. We were supposed to find out if there’s a supply, where it’s kept, then get out so the cops can raid the place. But Autumn took us right into the mouth of the shark.

  “I drank your beer,” Sean says, shuffling his feet.

  “What is that, three?”

  “Four. I had one before we left the house.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Get me another, and I will be.”

  “Dammit, Sean.” He’s focused on beer, and I’m focused on getting the hell out of here.

  A middle-aged guy with curls sticking out from underneath a backward baseball cap walks up to Autumn. Must be Mack. “Four for a bump or sixty for a gram.” His tattered gray jeans and white tee are too small, his military boots too big. “You’ll do it here your first time. Take a seat on the sofa.” The unlit cigarette hanging from his lip muffles his words. “Who ya with, sweetheart?” He throws a sharp look at Sean and me.

  “My boyfriends.” She puts her arms around us and brings us closer.

  “A threesome.” He grins while scratching his crotch. “Right on.”

  “A gram, please. And we want to save it for when we have sex at home,” she says.

  “We have beds right here.” His curly hair, bony face, and slow speech remind me of Matthew McConaughey. “Sit down with your friends.”

  She tilts her head, doing her best to charm him. “I’ll be more comfortable if we can take it home. I don’t want to be naked here.”

  He draws a handgun from the back of his jeans and positions the muzzle between her eyes. “First time you buy from me, you do it here. You’ll have plenty left over for later.”

  “But—”

  “Take. A. Seat.” The muzzle presses into her forehead.

  “Okay.” She looks cross-eyed at the barrel.

  “Billy, set up a virgin special for them. Let’s make their night.” He slides the gun down her face and under her chin, raising her head until she’s staring at the plank ceiling. “You’re a nice piece of ass. I’d like to have you myself.”

  “She’s taken,” I say, stepping forward, not happy about where this is heading. “Taken.”

  He turns the gun on me. I raise my hands, feeling my cell vibrate, and spotting Sean’s fingers fluttering next to his side.

  Sean, don’t do it. Pulling your pocket pistol will get us all killed.

  “We good?” Mack asks.

  The three of us nod.

  “Sit.” He waves his gun toward the sofa.

  “Mack, be nice. Don’t ruin my high,” a woman complains from one of the mattresses.

  “Shut your trap over there.” He scratches his chin with the gun.

  We squeeze onto the sofa. Sean’s cell vibrates against my hip. Ed likely thinks we’re getting drunk and hitting on women. He’ll figure out soon enough that something’s wrong … I hope.

  Billy comes back and passes off a glass pipe. Meth. I see crystals in the clear bowl through the residue.

  “I love you rich kids.” Mack brushes a finger across his lips. “Pockets full of your mommy and daddy’s cash. No cares. No responsibilities. No idea what you’re going to do with your life, so you pass the time in outer space.” He looks at Sean and me, then at Autumn. “You get slammed at the same time by these two?” He laughs. “Bet that feels nice, real nice.” He sits on the coffee table in front of us.

  “My friend said you’re cool and easygoing, but you’re scaring me,” Autumn says. “I just came for a quick rush, not meth. It lasts way too long to be my thing.”

  “Well then, what is your thing? Being a princess in this fancy coat?” He feels the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. “Or being a whore in that shirt?” He moves the gun up her waist, placing the glass pipe between her lips. “Beer. Coke. Crystal. Getting tongued by these two men. There’s no difference here. It’s all about getting high anyway you can.” He leans back, leaving the pipe in her mouth.

  Sean shifts on the sofa whenever his cell vibrates. I match his unease, wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans as Autumn rubs her arms for warmth, the pipe shaking between her quivering lips. She places her coat over her lap, putting her hands in her pockets.

  Mack lights his cigarette and exhales smoke through his crooked nose. “Don’t be afraid of it. Everyone starts here.” He holds the flame to the pipe. “You’ll find you like what I have, and next weekend your ass will be back in this same spot asking for more. Soon I’ll be your God.”

  The woman on the mattress relights a pipe for another hit while my cell vibrates for the millionth time. I can hear and sense what’s happening in the room, but I’m unable to see everything that’s around. There could be ten guys in the shadows pointing guns at us, and we wouldn’t know it.

  “I don’t believe in God,” Autumn speaks around the pipe.

  Billy walks over with a gram, tossing it in her lap. He crosses his arms, showing off a handgun at his hip.

  “What you crave becomes your drug which becomes your God,” Mack says. “There’s your gram. Pay up, take my gift, and don’t insult me.” He holds the lighter under the pipe and tells her to inhale. She doesn’t. “Take a deep breath or take your last breath.” He cocks his gun.

  I hold my breath.

  At this moment, nothing seems to matter. Not that I’m only twenty-two, it’s February again, and Heather and Jake have been dead for a year. Not that I’m always drunk, and always cold, and I haven’t done a thing with my life. Not that I’m still stuck doing these jobs for Ed and earning meager pay at the bar. Not that I’m falling for the girl sitting next to me on a filthy sofa with a meth pipe in her mouth, or that I live in a dying city, or that I, too, might die tonight.

  Mack snatches the pipe and hands it back to Billy. “I’m just messing with you asinine kids. Do
a bump of the gram, then take the rest and get outta here.” He turns the brim of his cap forward and leans away with a resounding laugh. “I promise. It’s the best shit you’ve ever had.”

  I nod incessantly, agreeing to the coke. We can handle that, we’ve sampled it in front of dealers a handful of times. Snort and go. This is good. Anything other than the meth is good. Good. Good. Good.

  I take the gram from her lap and open the seal, using my pinkie to shovel a tiny mound onto the back of my hand. I hold it in front of Autumn, and she snorts it up like she’s been jonesing for it all night.

  “Perfect.” She wipes her nose. “Hit it. Hit it.” She snaps her fingers, waiting a minute to feel a kick.

  Sean snorts a more significant amount than Autumn. Then he elbows me to do it quick so we can bolt.

  “You’re happy.” Mack winks at Autumn.

  She smiles when it possesses her. I snort mine and lean back, waiting for it to take hold.

  “Awesome.” I grin, loving it a bit too much.

  The wave of euphoria backtracks into alarm. Autumn twists and turns, looking this way and that. Sean sits up, grips the arm of the sofa. I hear it. Everyone hears it.

  Billy races to the stairs. “Mack, I think the cops are here. Ditch the stuff!”

  “No. It’s just a fight,” Sean says.

  “It’s a fight,” I repeat, knowing we have to get out quick or one of us will end up dead.

  I look around for an escape, but with the screaming downstairs, the storm of thudding footfalls, and the mayhem tearing through the house, I know it’s too late.

  Mack raises his gun.

  “It’s just a fight.” I try again.

  He stands and Sean stands. The woman on the mattress curls into a ball. The coke intensifies the commotion. The attic shakes, and I feel as if I’m falling into the stomach of the house. A door crashes in below us, and another as the cops make their way through the second floor. Wood splinters. Kids shriek. Boots clomp up the stairs. Then flashlights orbit the ceiling and walls, adding to the chaos and the confusion.

  “Hands up! Hands up!”

  Mack aims his gun just as a blast explodes from Autumn’s coat. Puffs of fabric float through the air like snow. He lands in my lap, chest pumping out blood, eyes wide with fear. A second shot rings out, coming from Sean’s pistol, the bullet hitting Billy in the head.