These Last Days

1. The Hills Have Eyes

"Just down here, at 32 Goliath."
The Hills. The Valley. Why was he here, he thought.

Shawn lowered a frown and handed the taxi cab driver a wrinkled twenty, hoping that he'd have enough change to get home later, he didn't want to be stuck in the depths of the valley on a night like this. Cold, colder than the usual of the California center.
He tugged hastily on his maroon long sleeve, the air bristling through the hair on his arms.

The street was desolate, except for 32 Goliath. Music, alcohol, and various other smells and sounds resonated around the high priced residence. Down passed a rather large gate was a semi circled driveway lined with pine trees and glass garden stakes.
At the end, A cobblestone walkway leading to the front door.
Shawn, hands trembling from nervousness cautiously stepped forward and continued passed the half opened gate.

He used to hate these things, always a stuttering mess infront of girls and boys who swooned over his apparent good looks, always either getting too drunk or just being plain accident prone, he seemed to always make a fool of himself regardless.

Shawn took a fierce breath, and pushed opened the door with a grimace, but hid it quickly. He was going to use a method he thought of in the cab to survive the night. To wallflower. Simply just wallflower.

Entering through the front door was basically entering another dimension, the atmosphere quickly changed as the music grew louder and vibrated the Greek pillars outside. Masses of people all spread out, laughing, chugging, snorting, inhaling, the valley kids. This is what he didn't wanna become.

with a shift in presence, Shawn sauntered quickly passed the initial crowds, greeted a few strangers and headed straight for the kitchen.
The house was a riot, electronic music on one side, the right, the side were the heavy drugs most likely took affect, bloodshot eyes made love and light smoke hovered. Then the left, hip hop side and R&B, where dance was the most prominent role, with bongs and bottles hanging in the air. The balcony, pillared and wrapped above the loungy middle, very few people were up there, probably couples, Shawn thought, doing couple-y thing... Not very safely, again he thought. The center of the room seemed most safe. Where both sides dwindled and red solo cups littered glass tables and people stood or sat or lay deep in inebriated conversations. Shawn contemplated sufficing for the middle, but he did want to have fun, in the slightest of ways of course. Bound for the kitchen, he sought the drinks, 5 huge coolers sat all around the granite island, a wide variety of influences, from light beers, pure vodka, scotch and even aged bourbon.

Shawn just grabbed a red solo cup and poured whatever he saw first, his inhibitions running low, mind beginning to swerve and not even a drop of liquor on his tongue yet.

With a signature cliche red cup in his hand turned and almost jumped back as the owner of the estate, Wade Forester, stood directly infront of him, loopy smile and drooping eyes, a mess of auburn hair and all.

"Shawn, bud that you? You came?! Who fucking knew man! How was Toronto you silly bean?"

Wade shouted, even though he was a bit too close too Shawn, shifting from foot to foot, clearly wobbling.

"It was good.. how's it been Wade.."

Shawn sighed back, sort of regretting accepting the invite he received while repacking back at his old apartment.

"Its been.. Well take a look around, the Valleys on fire tonight, when'd you get here?"

"About 5 minutes ago, was just grabbing a drink."

Shawn spoke, taking a sip of something hard and sour, a burn welling in his throat. Bittersweet and nauseating. Wade stepped closer, a hand on the island and a hand drawing closer to Shawn's hip.

Shawn new Wade's ways all too well, a flashback and a few flinched looks later, Shawn leaned against the island, red cup still in hand. Wade drew closer, a prudent stench emulating from his breath. Shawn, only to break the clear tension spoke.

"How's everyone been, at school, I've heard some things.. The girls doing alright?"

Shawn spoke of his 3 friends, Bex, Meadow and Havana.
Wade squinted and let out a somewhat casual eye roll.

"y'know the girls.. Always recruiting, dominance getting the best of them, they're fine. They're actually just upstairs with their latest project."

"Project? The boarding process hasn't even started yet, isn't it on Monday?.."

Shawn tilted his head and took a look again at the balcony, but saw nobody of relevance.

"No, no, not anything from ITA, but they've adopted a Junior from West High who got into ITA, some ex stoner loner or something, plan on remixing him or some shit, they're probably gonna break him some more to be honest, but you already know."

Shawn did know. But Bex, Meadow & Havana were never volatile with him, ever. When he moved to LA, fresh out of the cold north, he was completely and hopelessly lost. 3 weeks after meeting them, he had memorized a majority of Los Angeles memorized, the parts that weren't ruined in the Earthquake no one ever talks about. They took him in well, he fit in well with them, at first he thought was an accessory, a new boy toy for the power house clique of his old now torn down highschool.
But he saw more in them than themselves, studied them with acute perception and saw a friendship worth being apart of.

Wade saw Shawn in thought and then took his chance and blocked Shawn's front with both hands now on the counter top, his groin now slightly against Shawn's.

"Wa-Wade no, c'mon not here man please."

Shawn tried to squeeze in more back but the counter top was flat against his back, he was trapped. Wade had a habit of cornering his prey.

"Why, remember how much fun we used to have?"

"Wade I swear to god I'll..-"

"You'll what? c'mon.. Just like last year. Remember?"

Of course he remembered, he remembered everything. Greasy hands, high sex drive, sloppy lips and a hangover that lasted 4 days. Shawn hated remembering and he was ready to tear Wade's face off.

"Fuck off about last year, get the fuck off me Wade. It wasn't like that and you know it."

He gently whisper-shouted into Wade's ear.
Wade's eyes grew wicked and shawn tried not to panic. Wade's capability on things could get quite visceral, and he was already deep in his lock.

"FORESTER HANDS OFF THE MERCHANDIZE OR THIS HOUSE BURNS."

A voice practically from above shouted.
sweet Havana. An angelic monster, dressed in nothing but some faded white ripped jeans with dusted grey high heeled boots and a bright beige poncho stomped down the spiral staircase and the crowds split to let one of their queens through.

Her dark blonde hair draped on the right side of her shoulder, and a look of gore and death in her honey dew eyes.

"Step aside Wade, dear old daddy wouldn't want one of those gorgeous rare ass rovers outside up in flames now would he?"

The goddess said with a red scorched up lighter gripped in hand and a grin that could kill.
Ferocity like a lion but with the grace of a gazelle.

Havana Leone.

"Fuck off Havana, Shawn and I were just talking."

Wade pulled Shawn in closer, gripping his hips with his drunken arms and rock solid grip.

"Enough, get off of me you fucking prick, fuck. Not even 10 minutes here and you have your hands down my pants."

Something in him sprung to life, as he through his drink in Wade's face and escaped his grasp, skipping over to Havana. California nowadays changes you fast, he thought of this quite often.

"Please get me out of here before he bloody eats me."

Shawn said, quickly hugging his old mentor and then proceeded to run up the spiral staircase, down a lengthy corridor of lustful make outs and pass outs.