Lainey's Story

Nine

Krist had been back for a week and things actually had been really good between us. We had been off dope still, I was still working at the cafe while Krist was home being my lil housebitch. If I'm being honest, he was better at the cleaning and cooking than I was...and a lot more motivated. It felt like having a few hours a day to be apart made us get along better.

It was a Friday night, we had gotten invited to a party over at Cami and Jeordie's friends' house so we were getting ready to head out. I was sitting at the kitchen table in my underwear doing my makeup while Krist was in the bathroom trimming his face and singing "She Works Hard For The Money" by Donna Summer in this awful falsetto voice. I couldn't help but laugh though.

The party was gonna be sick from what I heard. Krist had been to that particular house before and said they always had a DJ booth set up on the back deck and another one in the basement, that the outdoor was usually house music or happy hardcore, and downstairs they'd have someone mixing acid or dark hardstyle.

Cami had told Krist that someone she knew would have 2C-i, 2C-B, and ecstasy if we were looking for looking to buy. I'd pulled out a hundred bucks to get us some pills even though Krist told me he wasn't trying to trip and felt like when he did 2C-B or ecstasy he'd end up finding for dope. I figured he'd change his mind though, peer pressure ya know?

Krist came out of the bathroom wearing his usual-matching khaki Dickies pants and button down with a white shirt under, white Air Force 1s, thin gold chain with his diamond studs in his ears, smelling hella good. I liked to tell him that he was like a cartoon character with his wardrobe full of the exact same things. "What? I look dope though," was his response.

I, on the other hand, liked to change it up, especially when I went out. What I wanted to wear was a hot pink sheer full-body suit with black boy shorts and the X-shaped pasties I had ordered off Dollskill. Krist flat-out told me "You ain't going if you wear that," despite the fact I'd be with him.

Instead, he let me wear a shiny pink romper with cutouts down the entire front with baby pink Demonia platform boots, and bell-bottom leg warmers with psychedelic mushrooms in neon colors on them over the top.

"You gonna wear those," he pointed to my boots, "when you sit on my face later?"

"Only if you're nice," I grinned, not that I would turn down an offer to sit on his face regardless of how nice or assholeish he was.

I ordered an Uber, definitely not driving if we were going to be fucked up. We went outside to wait, Krist smoked a blunt with one of the pretend gangstas that lived in the complex, telling him where the party would be and how much the door fee was. I took selfies and posted them to Snapchat.

Cami had met us out front to get us in without a door fee. We got there around nine which seemed early but the place was already packed. We entered through a chain link gate in the carport where a makeshift bar had been set up as well as a keg and tub of jungle juice. Krist helped himself to a beer, greeting a few people he knew.

The inside of the house was dark with black lights and a projector screen showing a trippy black-and-white Mickey Mouse video. A haze of weed smoke hung over the living room. Three large sectional sofas were shaped in a U with several people on them, some were making out, somewhere zoned the fuck out. A few people lay together on bean bag chairs.

Cami led us to the backyard where Jeordie was about to begin his set. He was dope as fuck and had a decent following in the area, his crowd was a mix of people our age and older people that loved that he got down on turntables instead of all computer shit. I knew he would occasionally be a guest DJ at some of the local rap shows or fill in when needed.