Neon Girl

Scene 8 - Murdered Out

Riding the elevator down, I realize I hadn't brushed my teeth. I also failed to bring gum. I can't believe I missed such a crucial step in my party prep, especially when I've got Funyuns-flavored chili breath. What if I meet a talent scout? I don't want to worry about bad breath on top of trying not to have a panic attack. Hopefully, Presley or Liza will have something minty.

The pocket doors of the common room are closed when I step out of the elevator, but the smell of incense permeates the air. The mystics must still be conjuring.

"Hey, Mel!" Loki's voice is muffled, and I find him standing in the foyer pinned to the mailboxes by Phyllis and her ample belly.

"Hello, Phyllis You're out late tonight."

Phyllis turns, giving Loki a chance to slip away. His eyes bug out when he sees me in my LBD. I know, I'm killin' it. He doesn't look one iota different from when I saw him last, except maybe more eyeliner. I should have told him about the London punk theme. At least he's wearing an Ozzy shirt.

"I had a hankering for a hot fudge sundae and took myself on a date to McDonalds. My sweetie pie, Nate, is out of town this weekend." Phyllis's breath is infused with chocolate, which is probably better than mine. "What brings you out so late, Mel?"

"Loki and I were invited to a party. Oh, snap. I never told Presley I invited you, Loki." I dig out my cell and type a quick message.

(I invited Loki. Hope that's cool)

"A party? I used to attend parties all the time." Phyllis jabs a fingernail between her front teeth and sucks. "When I was younger, I was invited to every party in my social circle, and I always had several dance partners. Some might even say I was a flirt."

She smiles as she smooths her shirt over her stomach. Her confession makes me wonder if she's always been a plus-sized girl. She strikes me as someone with plenty of confidence, which would explain why she seems to have a new sweetie pie every season.

"Well, we've gotta catch our ride." I jerk my thumb at the front door when I see that gleam in her eye.

"Okay. You kids have fun." She heads to the elevator and punches the button. Phyllis is a nice lady, but she could talk paint off a wall.

"You have excellent timing," Loki says as we step outside. "By the way, you look really good, Mel."

"Thanks." I bat my eyelashes, which makes him blush for some reason. I need to keep in mind that he's just learning how not to be awkward around girls.

"Where's the party?" A gravelly voice calls from the alley, and I roll my eyes as Harry emerges from the shadows. He shakes his head at me like a disapproving father. "I'm glad to see you have an escort, Mel." He scrutinizes Loki next, trying to look intimidating. "You better not take your eyes off this girl. She's going to have an entourage before the night is over."

"Of course." Loki looks uncertain. He's probably wishing he had chosen gaming over a rave.

"Promise you'll share the details with me." Harry rests his hand on my shoulder, which sets off my creep alarm. I shrug away from him and slip on the trench coat.

"I never make promises, since I don't like to break them."

"That's a good policy. Just don't break the ones you make to yourself."

My cell quacks, interrupting Harry's little sermon. It's Presley.

(Loki's cool to join, but it's going to be a tight fit)

A car turns onto the street, bass thumping out of the trunk, and I squint into the headlights of a murdered Acura coupe as it pulls up under the streetlight. The passenger door swings open, filling the neighborhood with dubstep, and Liza climbs out. She's wearing a plaid miniskirt and a printed tee of a British flag. Her hair is bright pink for the occasion. Of course, it works on her. A tweed jacket and galoshes would work on her. She's drop-dead gorgeous.

"That trench coat is so punk," she says as she gives me her barely hug. "You two look cute together."

I hope she doesn't think Loki and I are together together because that would be weird. "Thanks, Liza. You look amazing, as usual."

She flashes a practiced smile and glances at Harry without a hint of judgment. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh, that's Harry. He lives in...in the neighborhood."

"I was just seeing these two off. Have a pleasant evening kids." Harry salutes us and shuffles toward the bar.

"Are we going to a rave or making small talk with bums?" Presley yells from the back seat.

Yep. She's been drinking.

"I'm afraid one of you will have to sit on someone's lap," Liza says. "It's only a five-seater."

I peek into the back seat where Presley is reclined. Her shoulder length brown hair is flipped up at the ends, which makes her look like an extra in an Austin Powers movie. She's sporting a new Sex Pistols tee, probably bought by Liza, and she's chosen the black leather pants she always wears. Who's guilty of wearing the same outfit twice now? Next to her is a guy with a fake green Mohawk. He looks older than her, so I figure he's Liza's friend.

"This is Scott." Presley nudges Mohawk guy and he waves. "Loki, why don't you climb in next to me and Mel can sit on your lap. How much do you weigh, Mel, twelve pounds?"

"Very funny." I turn to Loki and stifle a laugh. He looks like someone has yanked on his ponytail. I guarantee he's never had a girl sit on his lap before. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle. I probably weigh less than your cello."

I wait for Loki to fold himself into the car, then I wrap my trench around my chest and climb in, trying not to stab him with my pointy heels. I arrange myself on one of his legs, avoiding his crotch, which I'm sure he appreciates. Liza gets in and closes the door.

"This is my date, Trevor." Liza pats the shoulder of the driver. He's dressed like a businessman and looks about twenty years older than the rest of us. "He has promised to take you all home later, so don't lose track of him."

I make a quick assessment of Trevor: receding blonde hair, sunken cheekbones (probably from overwork), powder blue pinstriped shirt. I'll remember him only because he'll be the dullest-looking guy at the party.

"Hey, Presley. You got a mint or some gum?" I talk away from Loki's face.

"Of course. I also have a shot of Cuervo I saved especially for you."

She digs through her purse and shoves a mini into my hand. Then she taps a Tic-Tac into my palm. I crunch the mint and unscrew the lid on the bottle. Then I down the throat searing liquid in two painful gulps.

"I'm not getting smashed tonight, Presley."

She rolls her eyes. "I know you, Mel. You need something to loosen you up or you'll be looking for a closet to have a nervous breakdown in at the first sign of a talent scout."

I don't argue. She's right.

Trevor revs the engine, and we hurtle toward the stop sign with Zomboy blaring out of the speakers. At least Mr. Boring Pinstripes has good taste in cars and music. I smile at Loki. He looks nervous. I want to make him feel less awkward, but I don't think that's possible. I can already feel his hard-on against my leg. I shiver as the Cuervo does its thing, and I wrap my arm around his neck, breathing wintergreen tequila into his ear.

"Batten down the hatches, Loki. You're going to have fun tonight whether you like it or not."