Party Like a Rock Star

 

“This party is the best, Lainey,” I scream over the noise. “Have I told you lately how much I love you? I do, little sis, and I’m so happy you brought me here.”

Lainey smiles over at me. “I’m glad you’re having a good time, sweetie,” she says. “Like I said this morning, when we were on the phone, you deserve a night like this, just some good, old-fashioned reckless fun.”

She hugs me and when she pulls away, everything goes blurry. “Whoa, don’t move so fast,” I say.

Worry creases Lainey’s brow, and she peers down at the red plastic cup in my hand. “I think it’s time to start pacing yourself, Aubrey. You don’t drink much these days, so maybe slow it down a notch. At the rate you’ve been going, you’re either going to get sick or pass out.”

I’m definitely drunk, but to Lainey I maintain, “Nah, not me. I’m a trooper.”

Belying that point, I shift my weight from one foot to the other and almost topple over. Lucky for me Lainey has fast reflexes and grabs my elbow.

“I’m good, I’m good,” I insist as I right myself with her assistance.

“Pacing, Aubrey,” Lainey repeats. “Learn it, live it, make it a way of life.”

“My stumbling wasn’t on account of me being drunk,” I huff.

She laughs, and I point down to the four-inch shiny black heels I borrowed from her to complement my shimmery red party dress. “It’s these damn shoes you gave me to wear. They’re deadly.”

“Yeah, sure they are,” Lainey replies, shaking her head. “Good thing I’m the designated driver this evening.”

On that, I can’t disagree. “Yeah, good thing,” I concede.

And then, for no reason other than the fact I’m buzzed to the gills, I yell to the crowd, “Party like rock stars, dudes!”

That earns me some interesting looks. Okay, clearly I am beyond buzzed. Lainey is right; these vodka tonics I’ve been slinging back are catching up to me.

“I’m going to be so hungover tomorrow,” I groan as I finally admit I’m inebriated.

“You can sleep it off on your flight to Vegas,” my sister says reassuringly. Much more of a partier than I, she’s well-versed in next-day hangover remedies, which she proves when she adds, “Drink lots of water when you get back to the hotel. And eat a couple bananas. That’ll replenish your potassium.”

“Thank you, Dr. Lainey.”

She shakes her head at me, but in a good way. I can tell she’s glad I’m cutting loose and goofing around, just like I promised.

“I’m proud of you,” she yells over the ever-growing crowd noise. “You’re really sticking to this ‘new you’ philosophy of having fun.”

“I sure am,” I agree, raising my cup. “But this reckless me is making an appearance tonight only. It’s fine to get a little crazy in a place where no one knows me. Speaking of which, thank God I’ll never have to see any of these people ever again.”

“Here, here.” Lainey taps her water bottle to my cup. “Get wild, crazy girl.”

“To one night of absolute abandon,” I declare.

As I polish off what’s left in my cup, Lainey says, “Hey, on a serious note, I’m glad you came out with me tonight.” She makes a little hand flourish in front of me, like I’m a prize on a game show. “You look stunning, Aubs. That dress is amazing. You should consider wearing it to your meeting tomorrow. You know”—she puts her fists up in a mock-fighting stance—“knock ’em dead and all that.”

More like get fired and all that.

I peer down at the cute and clingy red number I stuffed in my suitcase before I left this morning. I packed it on the off chance I’d actually venture out at some point on this trip. And wow, here I am, already wearing the dress and partying like a rock star. But a dress like this, all sexy and low-cut, is best reserved for nightlife only.

“I think this might be a bit much for business,” I state.

“Still, it’s a good thing you brought it. Otherwise you wouldn’t look so fabulous tonight.”

“Thanks, Lain.” I smile over at her. “I’m glad I threw it in my bag at the last minute. I almost didn’t.”

“Why? What do you usually pack for these work trips?”

“Business suits for meetings and lots of leggings and comfy shirts for the downtime.”

Lainey lets out a little laugh. “Talbots and LuLaRoe, right?”

“You know it.”

I sway a little from side to side, moving to the music someone just turned up.

Lainey smiles and says, “You’re kind of funny when you’re tipsy.”

Still swaying, I remark, “I may be a little more than tipsy, Lainey, m’dear.”

She laughs, and I decide it’s probably best to stop moving so much since it’s making me kind of dizzy.

Lainey is peering into the crowd, so I do the same. There are lots of guys, and she’s eyeing them up and down, checking each one out. I don’t usually assess men, but then again, maybe that’s my problem.

What the hell; let the assessing commence…

Guy with a mullet, that’s a no-go.

Oh, hey, there’s one who’s kind of cute.

Oh wait, crap. He’s with a girl already. I sigh. The good ones are always taken.

Whoa, wait, who the heck is that?

A stunning specimen of hot maleness comes into view, and blinking to be sure I’m seeing correctly, I muse, “Wow, is he real?”

I fear he may be a mirage. You know how thirsty people imagine seeing water out in the desert? Maybe that’s what’s happening now. This man—if he’s even real—could actually be hideous. Maybe the dick-drought has finally affected my brain. Can that even happen?

“Is who for real?” Lainey asks, interrupting my drunken panic that I’m losing my mind.

Before I can point out the model-caliber dude who’s captured my attention and confirm he’s not a mirage, Lainey sees him for herself. “Who is that?” she exclaims.

Thank God, he’s real. “That’s what I’d like to know,” I murmur.

“Shit, Aubrey, that guy is hot enough to qualify as bona fide book boyfriend material.”

Whoa, this is serious.

I shoot my sister a look. She has an insatiable romance novel obsession, along with a slew of what she terms “book boyfriends.” I hear about them all the time. There’s a Christian, some dude named Barrons, and a Gideon in there somewhere. That’s just three I can name off the top of my head, thanks to my current drunken state.

But back to this guy, this real-life, incredibly delectable man… Wow! I don’t know if he’s a book boyfriend come to life, but he definitely personifies masculine perfection. He’s tall, has olive-toned skin, thick dark brown hair, a strong jaw, high cheekbones… Oh, hell, you get the picture.

Gah!

Oh, and let’s not forget about his oh-so-sculpted bod. Or, at least what I can discern of it under his dark jeans and tight black tee.

Dreamily, I lean against Lainey and say, “Look at him, Lain. I bet your romance authors would have a blast writing about a guy like him.”

“They would, and they do write about guys like him,” she assures me. “All the time, in fact. Why do you think I read so much?”

“It all makes perfect sense now. I clearly need to load up my Kindle.”

“You do,” she agrees. “I’ll send you some recs. You’ve totally been missing out.”

Lainey, though she’s talking with me, sounds somewhat distracted.

So I follow her gaze…

Hmm, she’s staring beyond my dream guy to some other hot male that my guy just stopped to talk to. This new hot guy is a huge mass of muscle, with longish blond hair that’s wild and unruly. My sister is riveted, and I think I know why. “Hey, that blond guy looks a little like Thor. Didn’t you go see that movie, like, ten times?”

“Shut up, Aubrey.” She nudges my shoulder playfully. “I only went to see it twice.”

“And the DVD?”

“Okay, yes. That, I may have worn out. Along with a couple of battery-operated devices.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t even want to know what that means.”

“Oh”—she winks at me—“but I think you do.”

“You and your sex toys,” I say, laughing. “You’re shameless.”

“You will be too,” she says, “once you finally break down and buy one.”

Pointing back into the crowd, I say, “Just get back to staring at Thor. You can use him for fantasy material later.”

“You bet your ass I will.”

We share a smile that it’s cool we can be so open with each other. But when we look back into the crowd, Thor is gone, lost in the growing sea of people. My guy is still there, though. My real-life book boyfriend. And he seems to be getting closer, seeing as he’s walking toward us.

Wait, what?

“Shit,” I murmur.

Lady bits go on high alert, and I can almost hear the whistles sounding, “Incoming, incoming projectile.”

I’m safe—and they’re safe—as I soon realize he’s not even looking at us. Me. Whatever! Book Boyfriend is too busy pushing through the mass of people while staring intently at a smartphone in his hand.

At one point, he stops and lifts the device to scowl at whatever’s on the screen. When he lowers it, he bites out what appears to be a curse. He then lifts the device again and shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s reading.

Well, I can’t believe how hot you are. So color us both surprised, buddy.

As he nears me, I start to feel like I’m in the best dream ever. You know the kind, where you never want to wake up because everything in dreamland is going the way you wish things would go in real life. You know—perfectly.

Our eyes meet, but only for a second. I don’t think he even registers my existence, but it’s enough for me.

I lift my hand to wave him over, but Lainey stops me. “What the hell are you doing?”

I shrug, hand poised in the air. “I’m making a move, taking a chance.” I start waving my hand like a nut, all while yelling, “Yolo, yolo, yolo!”

“Stop that,” Lainey hisses. “Oh my God, you’ve completely lost it.”

She grabs my hand and lowers it to my side. “No yolo crap in this sea of people. If you’re attracted to the guy, fine. But there are better ways to get his attention. Why don’t you get him alone for a minute? Talk to him. Find out if he has a girlfriend. If he does, she could be here. You don’t want to embarrass yourself, do you?”

Lainey is clearly not onboard the YOLO train. I need to get her a ticket. But for now, I refocus on the crowd.

“Okay,” I say, “I’ll be good.” And then, “Aw, shit, Lainey. My guy disappeared, just like Thor. Damn it.”

Lainey places her hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, if it’s meant to be you’ll find him again.”

“I don’t know about that.” I shake my head. Finding him seems like a daunting task when I can barely walk a straight line.

“Come on.” She takes my hand. “I need more water.”

“Ooh!” I lift my cup. “And another drink for me?”

Lainey narrows her eyes as she gives me an assessing once-over. “I don’t know about that. I think you need a break from the booze. Pacing, remember? Let’s grab you a bottle of water for now.”

She’s no fun. “Okay,” I say, complete with a pout.

As we head downstairs to where there’s a big tub of ice filled with bottled water, I think about Book Boyfriend.

“I can’t quit thinking about him, Lainey,” I admit as I carefully navigate one stair at a time. “Did you see his eyes? They had to have been the prettiest shade of brown I’ve ever seen.”

“You could make out the color from that far away?” Lainey sounds doubtful as she helps me down the last step. “And while intoxicated?”

I smack her arm, and then end up holding onto it for support. “Shut up. Seriously, did you not notice the rich deep color?”

“Um, no, can’t say that I did.”

“Well, I did.”

I’m insistent, though truly I’m not sure now if I’m imagining things.

Still, horny and sexually-deprived girl that I am, I go on. “God, that body. And that face. Those eyes too. I bet I could out-romance your romance writers with a spot-on description.”

“Oh, this should be good,” Lainey snorts. “And just how would you describe his eyes?”

I scramble to come up with a fitting literary description. Only problem is I’m not a writer. The best I can do is this…

“His eyes are like the color at the center of a sunflower. The fuzzy part, you know? Where it’s all dark brown and inviting—”

“Fuzzy? Inviting?”

“Shut up, I’m not done. And, yes, fuzzy and inviting. Like you could cozy up in—”

My sister stops me. “Jesus, Aubrey, please no more. Whatever you do, do not take up writing. That may be the weirdest comparison I’ve ever heard of to describe a hot guy’s eyes.” She shakes her head. “Really, Aubrey, sunflowers?”

Nudging her, and suddenly in touch with my inner comedian, I say, “You have to admit it was a flowery description. Get it, Lainey? Flowers, sunflowers.”

Lainey rolls her eyes. “You’re killing me, Aubrey.”

Just then her phone buzzes, thus putting an end to any more talk of Flowery Eyes. Or was that Sunflower Eyes?

She grabs my arm. “Hey, hold up. Margeaux is texting me something about another party.”

Margeaux is one of Lainey’s roommates and also her best friend, so I throw out, “You should invite her to the party.”

Lainey, still reading the text, murmurs, “Hmm, I don’t think so. There’s another party that’s closer to campus. That’s what the text is about. Aubrey, it sounds really fun.” She looks up from the phone, eyes pleading. “What do you think? Tell me you’d be okay with us taking off and heading over to that one?”

The only thing missing is a “please, please, please,” like Lainey used to do when we were kids. The writing’s on the wall, like in neon graffiti. A party close to where Lainey lives means she can park her car at her house and walk over. And then she can drink, like I’ve been doing. I don’t begrudge her wanting to have fun too. I’m sure it’s boring for her to watch everyone get drunk while she’s stone-cold sober.

There’s just one little fly in the ointment.

I’d prefer to stay at this party, seeing as there’s a guy here, one who looks like a book boyfriend, and one I may actually have a chance of meeting and talking to before the night is over.

“Go ahead and go,” I say to Lainey, with all this in mind. “I need to head back to my hotel soon, anyway.”

Lainey frowns. “Wait, how do you plan to get back if I leave you here? I’m your ride, silly girl.”

More like drunken girl. But hey, I’m a drunken girl with a plan.

“I’ll just call for an Uber,” I state, like this is such a given it shouldn’t even need to be articulated. I can’t let her in on my real motive, or she may try to talk me out of it.

“I don’t know.” My sister scans the crowd. “I don’t think I should leave you here by yourself. You could get into some real trouble, seeing how drunk you are.”

My baby sister, the voice of reason. And me, living on the edge. The world has truly gone crazy.

“Alone?” I gesture to all the partygoers. “I’ll hardly be alone. And hell, Lainey, almost everyone here is drunk.”

I’m not exaggerating; there are lots of people stumbling about. Lainey crosses her arms as she takes them all in.

“That’s the problem,” she says, at last. “Plus, there are more guys here than girls. And since they’re all drinking, who knows what they’ll be getting up to later.”

The wheels in my head are turning as I try to come up with a plan to convince Lainey to leave without me. “Okay, tell you what…” I begin.

“Yes?” she replies, arms still determinedly crossed.

I whip out my phone and open the Uber app in front of her. “I’ll order my ride right now in front of you. This way you can go ahead and leave, all with the assurance that your big sister is in good hands.”

“It’s not Uber’s hands I’m worried about,” she mumbles under her breath.

I let out a groan. “Oh, come on, Lainey. Go have fun at this other party. Think about it. My hotel’s out of your way, anyway. You shouldn’t have to drive me all the way across town. If I went with you to this other party I’d probably end up calling for a ride, anyway.” I look down at the phone and start tapping at the screen. “You’d like to at least have a couple of drinks before the night is over, right?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I guess.”

“So, go. You deserve a good time too. Your boring old sister has had the whole evening to cut loose. And trust me, I’ve had a blast. But it’s time for me to get back to being responsible. And that means returning to the hotel and getting my ass to bed.”

“You did say you have an early morning tomorrow,” Lainey mutters, more to herself than to me.

I can tell she’s almost where I want her to be—comfortable with leaving without me.

I hurry her along to that end. “Yes, yes, I have a really early morning,” I fib.

Lainey appears torn, chewing at her bottom lip. She always does that when she’s unsure of something.

I hold up my phone to show her there’s a ride on the way. Hopefully, that’ll assuage her concern.

“Look,” I say, nodding to the screen. “My ride will be here in eighteen minutes.”

Crap, she needs to leave, like now so I can cancel the Uber and start searching for Sunflower Eyes. Hmm, maybe I should think of a more manly-sounding name for him? But until then, back to the point—who knows when I’ll have another chance to be so reckless?

Lainey takes a deep breath, and then releases it on a loud sigh. “You sure you’ll be all right?” she asks.

I peer down at the phone. “For seventeen… No, wait, sixteen more minutes, yes, I think I will survive. “

“Okay, then. Since you have a ride on the way I’ll go.”

Yes!

Her phone buzzes again, and I place my hand on her back to give her an encouraging little shove. “Go, go. That’s probably Margeaux, wondering where you are.”

Lainey turns around and hugs me. I hug her back, holding onto her tightly. “Bye, Aubs,” she says in my ear. “I love you. I’m glad we had this chance to hang out tonight.”

“Me too, sweetie. And I love you too. Bunches and bunches.”

“Call me once you’re settled in. You can tell me all about your new client.” She leans in close and whispers, “I know you can’t give me any specifics, but you can at least let me know if he’s a sex god.”

“You’re so weird.” I playfully push her away. “No names, though, remember?”

“You’re no fun.”

“Go, go,” I say again. “Get out of here.”

Lainey turns to leave, but before she walks away, she says, “Text when you arrive in Vegas so I know you got in safely.”

“I will, I will.”

I watch as Lainey finally departs. Once I’ve lost her in the crowd, I immediately cancel my Uber ride and toss my cell back in my purse.

Then, I begin my search.

But distractions keep me from my goal.

I stop several times when I’m corralled to down shots with various groups of friendly partiers. So much for pacing myself, I get drunker than ever. And—who knew?—drunken me likes to talk to random strangers. Soon, I forget all about the hot guy I was hoping to corner.

“I’m having too much fun,” I mutter to myself as I stumble around. “Everyone is so nice.”

I accidentally wreck into a group of girls at one point. They help me find a downstairs bathroom when I share that my bladder is about to burst. In the bathroom, two of the girls listen to me lament about the state of my current—read: nonexistent—love life.

“I haven’t had what could qualify as a real boyfriend in so long,” I share as I fluff out my shiny dark hair in front of a mirror. “And my last date was a complete bust. I swear I’m cursed. I only meet losers or players. That’s why I’ve pretty much given up on the dating game.”

“Don’t lose heart,” one girl tells me as I gloss my lips. “You’ll find someone.”

Ha. She’s as drunk as I am so I don’t put much stock in her trying-to-be-encouraging words.

As time passes, and back in the party fray, I lose track of my new friends and wander back upstairs. Strolling around the big living room where most of the guests are hanging, I sip at a beer.

Maybe beer isn’t such a good idea, though. It makes me have to pee. Again, like now.

With no one around to help me find my way this time, I’m left to wander on my own. I go down what feels like many halls in my quest to scope out a bathroom.

But I have no luck.

Until, finally, I venture down a hallway I pick at random.

“I don’t know, though,” I say to myself. “This one seems pretty empty.”

As I continue down what feels like an endless corridor, I find myself squeaking out, “Yikes, it sure is dark back here.”

I should probably turn around; this is clearly an off-limits area. But then I come upon a huge room where the hallway ends. I step inside since the door is open.

Holding onto the wall for support, I feel around for a switch. When I find what feels like one, I flip it up.

A lamp flickers to life, illuminating what appears to be a spacious bedroom. There’s a huge bed in the center, some funky black furniture with chrome accents, and lots of windows. There’s also a very masculine-y feel to the room, leading me to conclude it must be the party-thrower’s room. You know, the baseball player.

There are some photos on the walls, and they appear to be sports-oriented, but my feet are killing me far too much to go check them out. I don’t care for baseball, anyway.

I toe off the offending pumps by the door, and then make my way over to the massive bed. Taking a seat on the edge, I rub my poor soles. Seems even large amounts of alcohol can’t silence screaming arches.

Lucky for me, when I look up I spot an ensuite bathroom. “Finally!”

My bladder urges me to go take care of business, even though I’m so sleepy I could pass out right here.

And I might.

But nature calls.

Forcing myself to stand, I stumble to the bathroom. When I’m finished, I’m so out of it that I push my lacy red panties all the way down my legs instead of pulling them up.

“Oops. They go up your legs, goofball. Not down.” Giggling, I add, “Unless you were planning on having some fun.”

Yeah, right, if only.

Sadly, I never found the stunning specimen of man I was eyeing up earlier. My real-life book boyfriend, my Sunflower Eyes, he may as well have been a figment of my imagination.

When I start to tug my panties back up my legs, I lean way too far forward and almost face-plant off the throne. I decide to just leave the damn things on the floor. “Really, why must we wear underwear all the time, anyway?”

Okay, so all the alcohol I’ve consumed has clearly left me befuddled. “Too much to drink,” I mutter as I return to the room and fall back on the big bed.

I’m ready for sleep, but my eyes feel drier than the Sahara desert. My extended-wear contacts need a break. Good thing I brought a case and my glasses. Rolling to my stomach, I feel around in my purse for a contact case and my eyewear. Once I find what I need, I pop out my lenses and put on my glasses.

Scooting up to the top of the bed, I wiggle under what has to be the biggest, softest, puffiest comforter ever.

“Mm, this is nice. I’m jus’ gonna lie here for minute.”

Three seconds later, I’m tossing my glasses onto the stand by the bed. “Maybe make that fifteen minutes.”

I close my eyes and I am out, dead to the world.