Less Than Zero

Lene and Blair hug each other and then Lene and Kim hug and pretend to kiss each other’s cheek.



“This is Troy,” Lene says, introducing the young guy.



“This is Clay,” Blair says, putting her arm on my shoulder.



“Hi, Troy,” I say.



“Hi, Clay,” he says.



We shake hands, both grips kind of limp and shaky, and the girls seem pleased.



“Oh my God, Blair, Troy and I were on MV3 today! Did you watch it?” Lene asks.



“No,” says Blair, sounding disappointed, glancing at Kim for a moment.



“Did you?” Lene asks Kim. Kim shakes her head.



“Well, I couldn’t see myself. Actually, I thought I saw myself once, but I wasn’t too sure. Did you see me, Troy?”



Troy shakes his head, checks his nails.



“Troy was on it, but they missed me and I was dancing with Troy. Instead of getting me, they got some Valley bitch dancing next to Troy.” She pulls out a cigarette, looks for a lighter.



“Maybe they’ll repeat it and you can look more closely,” Blair says, almost grinning.



“Oh yeah, for sure they’ll repeat it,” Kim agrees, grinning, looking Troy over.



“Really?” Lene asks hopefully. I light her cigarette.



“They rerun everything,” Blair says. “Everything.”



We never get to Nowhere Club. Kim gets lost and forgets the address and so we go, instead, to Barney’s Beanery and sit there in silence and Kim talks about her party and I shoot some pool and when Blair orders a drink, the waitress asks for I.D. and Blair shows her a fake one and the waitress brings her a drink and Blair gives it to Kim, who drinks it down fast and tells Blair to order another one. And the two of them talk about how bad Lene looked on MV3 today.



Trent calls me the next night and tells me that he’s feeling depressed; doesn’t have any more coke, can’t find Julian; having problems with some girl.



“We went to this party in the hills last night …” Trent starts and then stops.



“Yeah?” I ask, lying on my bed, staring at the TV.



“Well, I don’t know, I think she’s seeing someone else .…” He stops again. “We just don’t have it together. I’m bummed out.”



There’s another long pause. “Yeah? Bummed out?” I ask.



“Let’s go to a movie,” Trent says.



It takes me a little while to say anything because there’s a video on cable of buildings being blown up in slow motion and in black and white.



On the way to the Beverly Center, Trent smokes a joint and mentions that this girl lives around the Beverly Center and that I look a little like her.



“Great,” I say.



“Girls are f**ked. Especially this girl. She is so f**ked up. On cocaine. On this drug called Preludin, on speed. Jesus.” Trent takes another drag, hands it to me, and then unrolls the window and stares at the sky.



We park and then walk through the empty, bright Beverly Center. All the stores are closed and as we walk up to the top floor, where the movies are playing, the whiteness of the floors and the ceilings and the walls is overpowering and we walk quickly through the empty mall and don’t see one other person until we get to the theaters. There are a couple of people milling around the ticket booth. We buy our tickets and walk down the hall to theater thirteen and Trent and I are the only persons in it and we share another joint inside the small, hollow room.



As we walk out of the theater, ninety minutes, maybe two hours later, some girl with pink hair and roller skates slung over her shoulders comes up to Trent.



“Trent, like, oh my God. Isn’t this place a scream?” the girl squeals.



“Hey, Ronnette, what are you doing here?” Trent is completely stoned; fell asleep during the second half of the movie.



“Like hanging around.”



“Hey, Ronnette, this is Clay. Clay, this is Ronnette.”



“Hi, Clay,” she says, flirting. “Hey, you two, what flick did you see?” She opens a piece of Bazooka and pops it into her mouth.



“Um … number thirteen,” Trent says, groggy, eyes red and half closed.



“What was it called?” Ronnette asks.



“I forget,” Trent says, and looks over at me. I forgot too and so I just shrug.



“Hey, Trenty, I need a ride. Did you drive here?” she asks.



“No, well yeah. No, Clay did.”



“Oh, Clay, could you please give me a ride?”



“Sure.”



“Fab. Let me put these on and we’ll go.”