Chapter 4

 

The phone began ringing, and Janey jumped. People rarely used the Moore family phone. People didn’t generally know what their phone number was. Janey went to answer it.

“Janey, we need to talk about the party.”

Janey nearly dropped the receiver. It was Taylor, sounding breathy and eager.

“Um, hi. How did you---“

“Cornelia is so sweet,” Taylor said quickly. “Look, can we talk over some details?”

Janey snorted. “What details? You come, you bring whatever, you take it back with you. Discreetly.”

“But this has to be different,” said Taylor. “I was talking with Kelly and Edan---“

“Who?”

“The twins. And they were talking about all these fabulous parties they’ve been to, and they, they’re all, they don’t think we’re up to it and it’s irritating and I want to prove them wrong.”

You want to be the dangerous American girl who shows the small-timer Europeans what a good time is, thought Janey. But instead, she said, “Isn’t Kelly a girl’s name?”

“You’re missing the point. This party has to be amazing.”

Janey shrugged. “So make it amazing.”

“But I need your help. I can pay for everything, but I don’t know who to talk to.”

Janey rolled her eyes. Oh, God, she thought, here we go. Lightweight Taylor wants an experience of utter psychedelia to impress her potential one-night threesome. And Janey would have to be responsible for getting every hallucinating, puking teenager under some roof safely where people wouldn’t ask questions or put anyone in jail, which would mean keeping them all in the house. Janey imagined the majority of her high school senior class, locked in her house all through Sunday, and her playing the hostess, and almost forgot to stifle a groan.

“So how much do you think it will cost?” said Taylor. “Whatever it takes, I’ve got it.”

Janey did a quick mental calculation and nearly answered truthfully, but then stopped to consider what a pain in the a*s Taylor could be when she didn’t want something. Then there was the possibility of extra damages, considering what Taylor was asking for this time. When Janey finally picked the number and named it, there was a long silence on the other line. Janey dared to hope that Taylor would just forget it, but then her answer came:

“Okay. Fine. This is completely worth it. What do I do?”

“Bring the money tomorrow,” said Janey, resigned, “And let me take care of it.”

“Absolutely. Janey, you’re the best. Janey…you know, if you want me to introduce you to them, I could. I mean, you’re hosting this thing. If anybody deserves an opportunity, it’s you.”

Oh, God, thought Janey, of all the times to offer me a chance to take a dig at you, Taylor, this is the worst. It was almost too much to resist, but Janey did. “Whatever,” she said. “They’ll be here on Saturday.”

“I know, but it gets so swamped. Everybody’s all over them at school. It’s ridiculous. Don’t you think it’s ridiculous?”

Janey frowned. This was becoming a conversation on a phone. Janey did not do conversations on phones. “It’ll die down. Bring the money tomorrow. I have to go.” She hung up before Taylor could assure her of her number-one status in Taylor-World yet again.

Janey did, in fact, know people. They were not hard to find in Coos Bay, Oregon, only very hard to convince to sell drugs to a teenager.

It was, ironically, a family connection. Jerry liked to joke about that. “It’s my business to serve your family, girl,” He’d rasp. “Do your parents ever get into your stash?”

“I don’t keep a stash,” said Janey. “And I don’t want anything too hard. These are light-weight virgins we’re talking about. Not protestors and Jesus Movers.”

“The Jesus Movers had God as their drug, baby,” said Jerry. “And I don’t keep hard stuff anymore.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, though,” He said as he packaged the goods. Jerry wrapped his powders like birthday presents. “If it’s Irish you’re hosting, get some Bailey’s. Irish like that creamy stuff, if you know what I mean.”

Janey didn’t even have to hide the stuff; her room was a mess of her things and other people’s things that they had forgotten about. Her parents had told her a million times that she could move the junk out whenever she felt up to it, but Janey never felt up to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Taylor ripped her hair out of her ballet-bun and rubbed her neck. Madame Dezra was such a strict old bat, but damn it, the activity was fantastic for maintaining slim calves.

The twins were staying at Decker’s house, but she had their cell phone numbers, Facebook, and prior claim. It was good to be high on the Student Body Council ladder.

Taylor resisted the temptation and opened Word Document on her laptop instead. There would be no time for homework between the pre-party at Janey’s house to get things set up---get out some of that crazy hipster stuff Taylor knew Janey must be hiding in the studio that was always locked during the parties, because Taylor could guess that a few whacked-out paintings made for a fantastic psychedelic experience---the party, and the after party which was sure to go through Sunday and maybe even Monday morning. That was the sort-of blessing, but mostly curse, of living in a small town: everything was close enough together that everything was convenient. The whole senior class could walk to school from Janey’s house if it came to that.

The expectations were high, and Taylor was ready to do everything in her power to make this weekend reach the expectations, even if it meant dragging Janey by her slick butch-boy hair-cut all the way through Monday.

Taylor liked Janey, of course, because Taylor liked everybody. That was the requirement for being on the Student Body Council: you had to be capable of finding the good in everybody. It was very easy to find the good in a perpetual stoner-chick with freak-parents and a big house with no rules. Janey herself could be nice, Taylor assumed, if you could siphon some fifty Starbucks Doubleshot down her throat and tell her a few good jokes or something.

But little Cornelia would probably end up at the party, which wasn’t necessarily a problem, since, as far as Taylor could tell, Corey was completely lesbo for Janey, and Janey probably felt the same way back. Nobody just refused an invitation for the dirty with a pair of freaking Irish twins so blasé the way Janey had.

Well, more for herself, anyway.

Author's Note

I'm looking to improve. Please write any criticism that comes to mind.