A new beginning - Sideswipe & Sunstreaker

Chapter 3. - Private parties and bombs

— BLAKE WITWICKY —

Cars crawled past, the bass of their sound systems thumping over the cobblestones and cypresses, windows down to reveal passengers eager to start their party at Trent's. He hadn't lied about it. It was a private, exclusive party with everyone I deemed to avoid.

A cluster of teens prowled by, two with a bottle of gin in hand and the other smoking cigarettes. I sat back against the soft leather cushions of Corvette and watched the scene. "What am I doing?" I muttered. I was tempted to turn back, cuddle in bed with a book, and forget about this. Perhaps I'd buy a bucket of ice cream from the supermarket on the corner of the street. Or some of my favorite cookies.

I rubbed my face, slid out of the car, and locked it. Music immediately filled my ears. It was loud. Too loud for my liking.

I slowly made my way over to the front door. It was wide open, and people were pouring in. The house was already a mess. It was the same type of house I lived in. There were two levels: an attic and a basement. The garage would no doubt be filled with beer and other bottles of alcohol. Some girls were pushed up against the wall, with their grinding partners holding them into place. Moans and screams came from upstairs, accompanied by the familiar sound of skin slapping against skin.

But the smell of drugs in here was overwhelming. Everyone here had to be high or at least drunk. I cleared the living room and inched towards the garden. While Judy's garden was filled with flowers and plants, Trent's backyard had a massive pool. The male stood on a table, jamming on the loud music. Maybe he wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't shown up at all. Trent swigged from his bottle, then noticed me standing at the pool's edge.

   "Blake! Darling!"

He leaped off the table and ate the space between us with his long strides. His breath reeked with alcohol when he pulled me in a tight hug. "I am glad you came." He offered the bottle. "I am good, thank you." He took another sip, then pushed it into the hands of a passing teen. His arm wrapped around my shoulder, herding me back into the house. "Let me show you something."

Trent took me back to the parking lot and led me to a massive black pickup truck. "What do you think of this baby?" He patted the hood and smiled broadly. "It's gorgeous. You got it today?"

"Last week. A gift from my father." I oohed softly. It was no match for the small Corvette a few cars away. Trent followed my line of sight. "That's your car?" I brushed some strands behind my ear to settle the nerves. "Y-yes... I got it today." Trent sauntered over to where I had parked it. "What kind of engine does it have?" I shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I didn't pop the hood."

"And it still drives?" I nodded. "Quite smoothly as well." Trent looked back at his car. "You'd like to race? See which car is better?"

"You are drunk."

"Come on, darling. I shook my head. He swung an arm around my shoulders, tightly pressing me into his side. "We will when you're not intoxicated. I don't want to sign my death warrant, nor do I want you to die in this stupid game." Trent laughed. The asshole seemed to find everything amusing, even his death. "Fine." He stepped back, took another gulp, then turned around. "Come inside. I will get you a drink." I sighed softly while trailing after him, watching the drunk teens passing by.

Trent halted in the large kitchen and yanked open a cabinet. When he couldn't find what he was looking for, he slammed it shut with enough force to rattle the plates and glasses. "These assholes always take the good stuff," he muttered, turning towards another cabinet. I lingered near the kitchen island, my eyes on a couple making out against the window. The two of them were too drunk and too high on drugs even to realize what they were doing amid the crowd – grinding against each other on the beat of the music, slowly taking off each other's clothes.