The Mormon Renegade

Chapter 10

"People wear clothes like this?" I dangle a see through lace dress the same way someone might hold something infectious.

"Mmm-hmmm." Scout answers adjusting her mid thigh length dress.

"Sometimes they wear less depending on the occasion." At that I shove the clothing item deep within the abyss of her, or rather, our wardrobe hoping it never resurfaces.

"Want me to pick something out for you?" Judging by her strappy heels and skintight slip ensemble I'm reluctant to trust her instincts.

"That's alright, I'll put something together." Only problem is all her clothes are quite fitting and...well... my D cups suffocate in the B cup width range. Pairing the least revealing, semi loose shirt I could find with light wash flare jeans.

Scout approves although she makes no effort to conceal the objection evident in her scrunched nose. "Sexy beast." She says seductively, licking crimson lips. I roll my eyes so far in my head I swear I saw the inner workings of my brain.

She lets me borrow her pair of decade old converse I've always envied since we first met. It was the only thing of hers I tried to steal when we were younger. Having failed miserably it became the unexpected catalyst of our friendship.

Beep! Beeeeeep!

A car horn echoes out front. "Betcha its a Beamer." I guess based off my assessment of Ashley's one-of-a-kind character.

"Who cares, a car is a car. Our chauffeur awaits." She says giddily, securing long hoop earrings. I catch the biker jacket she throws at my recently concealed face, the minimal makeup applied by Scout, who pushed for a more attention grabbing approach which I politely declined.

"You excited?" She asks knowing I've never attended any such 'gathering' or parties in the past.

"Mmm." Is all that comes out as I try to ignore the panicked hammering in my chest.

"Don't worry, I was exactly like you are now for my first, of not a little worse." She hooks her arm through mine, reassuring me by our locked elbows.

"Y'know there's no reason to freak out, right? Just take it easy, mingle with people and if anyone gives you shit, call me." I try to laugh my nerves away but the stubborn bastards won't let up. She can read my expression overcome with nerves, "Don't worry, you should be fine it's natural to be nervous."

Should be?

I'm overreacting, clearly. This is just my first party which will inevitably set the tone for others to come, not that big of a deal.

...Right?

•

I'm not sure what kind of music plays from Ashley's inbuilt subwoofer speakers but it strikes a musical chord with me.

The rib vibrating bass. The many layers of various roaring instruments. The loud consistent volume from start to finish. Something about being out of luck...?

It is how I imagine freedom would sound. Crazy, vocal and unrestrictive. "You like the music, huh?" I nod over-enthusiastically. "This one's a keeper Scout."

"I know, you should trust me more often." She pouts at Ashley who pulls up in a makeshift car park beside numerous flashy polished vehicles. T-birds, Jaguars, Corvettes. High status taste.
The moonlight smooths over their sleek mechanical bodies enhancing the glossy paint jobs.

"You got the peaches I got the cream..." Ashley laughs at Scout's dreadful singing while exiting his Ford Capri. I couldn't have been more wrong. "Sweet to taste, saccharine." They serenade the familiar tune amongst each other padding on the loose gravel. 

The song is awfully familiar but I find myself too occupied by the pleasant night air to consider it further.

The trip to what I assume is a large fire lighting moving bodies in the distance was made easier by the downward slope of sand dunes. "Are we at the beach?" I'm answered by the distant sound of crushing waves, a gentle sea salt spray sprinkles my skin. It's exactly how I imagined it although the lack of sun proved difficult to appreciate the view in it's entirety.

"I know it's dark and you can barely see the water but, the beach is the beach Tristan. Breathe it in." Scout walks hand in hand with Ashley who scoops her up while racing to the faint glow of the manually dug pit.

Nnnts, nnts

The dull beat of a loud song erupts in the night, "I love this song. Bailey June, the Queen of Electronica, it's kinda sad she died last week, at least she'll live on in her music." I didn't know the artist Scout spoke of but she reminds me of the proclomation Marv the Prophet made some days earlier. The Queens reign...

My train of thought is interrupted by the awe inspiring, picture perfect setup. I'm left frozen on the spot with my mouth hanging so far open the increasing wind brushing my uvula.