Ashton Bennett
All decked out in a hideous shirt depicting a psychedelic tiger, jeans that Lacy swore made my ass look like a ‘Georgia peach’, and ridiculously neon shoes, I looked like an crazy little elf. Normally, I was only a mean little elf, but the outfit Lacy had practically dressed me up in took my elfin nature to a whole new level. An even worse level.
A rough jerk on my arm brought me back to my sad reality. Although I had to have at least a few pounds on her, I still lost my balance and nearly toppled the both of us over. Lacy steadied me with a disapproving look and returned to her strenuous task of lugging the both of us through the living room swarming with shimmying STDs and dancing dicks. A few of the shimmying STDs tried to grab at me and make me join their Orgy of Doom, but Lacy, defending my honor, glared murderously at them.
Lacy Kingston was a preppy cheerleader on steroids. Not only did she get her kicks by pumping pompoms and rolling around in a short ‘spirit-colored’ skirt, but she also fancied herself to be the nicest person in the universe as well as some sort of godsend What Not To Wear/Matchmaker mash-up. In reality, she was neither. Lacy Kingston was a bottle blond control freak dating my dear older brother Stephan, a huge pain in my pretty little ass that loved dressing me up like I was her life-sized Ken doll, and the motherfucking queen of the socialites.
My keeper strutted forward, ramming her elbow into a drunk girl who wasn’t moving out of her way fast enough. The now even more unsteady girl dumped half a beer on me, tripped on a bra that was mysteriously laying around, and collapsed on top of a stoned couple who were practically fucking against the wall.
After scowling at the back of Lacy’s perfect blond head, I quickly scanned the rest of the living room. The classy and obviously expensive décor was definitely a step up from the majority of parties Lacy and I crashed, but other than that, it was all the same: a whirlwind of drugged up, sexed up, and fucked up people, too much alcohol for their own good, and deafeningly loud dance music.
Ignoring the thumping of the speakers and the screeching of the masses, I spoke into my keeper’s ear, “Hey Princess, who’s party is this anyway?” I always felt mildly weird being in some person’s house and not knowing who it belonged to. Lacy never had any qualms though and began prepping me as soon as one of her minions even thought the word ‘p-a-r-t-y’.
She shot me a venomous look at the nickname but actually looked like she was considering the question as she continued yanking me forward. Her flawless face scrunched up and she began counting on her fingers, mouthing words- the dumb girl attended so many parties on a regular basis, I’d be amazed if she could come up with an answer.
“Let’s see Ashy,” I glared at her, but in typical Lacy Kingston fashion, she ignored it and carried on, “It’s possible that it’s Footballer Teddy’s, Hockey Mike’s, Tennis Katie’s, or some college guy’s.” Lacy shouted at me, looking troubled that, for once, she didn’t have all the answers.
I raised at eyebrow at her. “College guy? New boy-toy, Princess?”
Rolling her perfectly lined eyes, Lacy reached out to smack me. “Oh, Ashy, you know Stephie’s the only one for me. Just face it, the 2 of us are gonna get married, have lots of babies, and grow old together- or at least until the wrinkles start to show, cause then we’re gonna Botox it up…” Lacy grinned, deliriously lost in her picture-perfect plans for the future. “And yeah, some college guy. I can’t really remember his name, but he’s friends with Stephan and the rumor is that he’s Freddy’s newest dealer.”
Smiling knowingly, I let out a very unmanly giggle. There were 4 darling little Kingston kids in all - Melissa, Freddy, Ben, and Lacy - and it was widely known that the 2nd oldest, Freddy, was forever stoned off his ass. In my person opinion, Freddy’s revolving string of ‘newest dealers’ was due to his demanding too much weed for any one man to get his hands on, but Freddy swore that he was just constantly getting ‘shitty shit’. The boy was lucky he was pretty, cause he sure as hell wasn’t very bright.
