Knickers

The Beef and The Underwear

The McDonald's across the street from the Marriott is shiny and golden and fried, the most attractive set of adjectives to four tipsy twenty-somethings.
We jaywalk across the street, pausing in the center to moon opposing traffic. To our dismay the dining area is closed, and none of us is sober enough to get the car for the drive through. We attempt to walk the drive through on foot, but no amount of waving or yelling prompts that magical question, 'May I take your order?'.
Thankfully the family of four in the car behind us sees our struggle and generously offers to order for us. We just about fall over ourselves in joy, and when we get up to the second window to pay we insist upon paying for the family's food as well.
The pleasant interaction is enough to send us spiraling into a carefree euphoria, with all the hopefulness and faith of humankind rattling around in our hearts. Burgers in hand, we twist and twirl around the parking lot, high on our own youth and whatever chemicals are in the food. At one point Jay and Maya play crappy half-drunk tag, and Jacob and I simply watch them from the railing. He reaches over to hold my hand, and I let him.
"I'm sorry I almost got you kicked out earlier."
"It's fine. I met Yungblud cause of it."
"Who?"
"Y'know, the pretty British dude."
"Prettier than me?" he asks, batting his eyelashes at me, and for the first time I begin to realize that he might be a little more drunk than I'd hoped.
"I'll never tell," I say, leaning over to swipe a mouthful of his milkshake.
We turn our attention back to the parking lot to find Maya pinned to the fence, her face all but sucked off. Jacob boos them, throwing a French fry in their direction. The momentum staggers his balance, tossing him backwards off the railing and dragging me down with him.
This is the third time I've been on my back in one day because of him, though admittedly the circumstances are a little different than I'd hoped.
"God, boys are so stupid," I groan, whimpering at the throbbing pain pulsing through my head.
"Sorry," Jacob mutters, exploding into giggles.
"Hey," a voice calls. "Alright?"
We look up, toward where Maya and Jay were a moment ago, to find them concealed by a large black SUV. The window is partway down, a head poking out. I recognize the same bearded face that peered over me the last time I fell.
"Yeah, thanks," I call back. "Aren't you that guy?"
"Adam," he says.
"Nice to meet you, Adam."
"You're underwear girl?"
"That's me."
"Dom's got a gift for you."
With a groan I sit up, grasping for the railing and hiking myself up to my feet. The door opens and Adam meets me halfway to the car, with the little black dress in tow, no longer in his little black dress. Yungblud holds up a pair of underwear, faded gray, wearing the cheesiest smile I've ever seen.
My face flushes hot at the memory. "I'm really sorry about that. I swear it wasn't personal. It was..."
I trail off, twisting to point at Jacob who remains on his back, his head propped up on his hand so he can watch our interaction.
"Hey, mate," Adam says to him. "Alright?"
Jacob holds a thumbs up, smiling dizzily.
"Aside from the part where you broke into our bus," Yungblud begins, "I'm all for stupid and reckless behavior. Let's burn some undies."
I reveal Jacob's beat-up lighter from my front pocket and hold it up. "Any particular reason?"
"I don't know," he returns with an innocent shrug. "For the hell of it?"
"Alright," I agree.
"Does your boyfriend want to bear witness?" Adam asks, nodding at Jacob. Jacob waves him away lazily, happy and drunk on the ground.
"He's more like my Warped Tour boyfriend," I say, holding a flame underneath the dangling pair of boxers. "I doubt I'll ever see him again come Monday."
Yungblud drops the burning boxers to the asphalt, grinning widely at whatever symbolism he's found in it. "Being young is quite the adventure."
"I guess that's why you call yourself Yungblud."
"Right. But my friends call me Dom."
"Yeah. Or knobhead, which I think has a nicer ring to it," Adam adds, waving away the rising smoke. The flame eats quickly away at the gray fabric, the smoke going black when the elastic starts to burn.
"What's your name?" Dom asks me, biting down on his sleeve and rocking back and forth on his heels. His eyes flick between me and the fire, as if he can't decide which is more interesting.
"Marley," I tell him. "Like the dog."
"Oh, fuck that movie. I cried like a baby," Adam says. "So did Dom."
"Oh, we cried for hours," Dom agrees, squatting over the burning underwear and reaching up, snapping his fingers for the lighter.
I hand it over curiously, peering over him as he lights the other leg of the boxers.
"This is nice," I say, coughing somewhat. "Where in England are you from?"
"Doncaster," Dom tells me. "I just bought a place in LA, though. Finished furnishing last weekend."
"LA," I repeat. "That's where I'm from. Nice house?"
"It's fucking sick," he says. "The rockstar life has its perks."
"Except for when randos sneak onto your tour bus," I tell him, frowning. "Can I buy you a milkshake or something to apologize for breaking and entering?"
"It's forgiven and forgotten, man," he says, dismissing me with a funny little gesture and belting out a stout laugh. "No milkshake necessary."
"I absolutely disagree," I say. "Please, it'll be for my conscience."
Dom and Adam exchange looks and wide grins.
"He likes chocolate," Adam says.
"Chocolate it is," I say, turning on my heel and making my way back toward the second window. Dom trails me unexpectedly, both hands shoved in his pockets and all but disappearing into his hoodie.
I knock on the window and the lady inside, though visibly tired, opens up and offers a polite smile. I apologize for the inconvenience and ask if I can order something, and though she looks inclined to turn me away she nods. I slap down a five dollar bill and order two chocolate milkshakes. She turns to enter my order, and from the corner of my eye I see Dom slip some money out of his pocket and begin to reach nonchalantly for the window.
Before he can touch my waiting bill I snatch up his wrist and hold to it tightly. "I don't think so."
"You're fast," he says, slapping down a ten over my five with his other hand. "But not fast enough."
The cashier's side eye is formidable, and I'm almost tempted to stop the ruckus and allow him to pay, but my pride won't let me lose. Moments before her hand comes down on the ten I steal it back and shove it into the front pocket of his sweatshirt.
"Not today, asshole, it's my turn to be nice."
Dom guffaws, doubling over, his laughter so contagious that I join him as if on instinct. From this new angle I see Maya and Jay staring intently at us, drawn by the disruption of the night's silence, and without another beat of hesitation they return to their face-sucking. Neither seem intimidated nor impressed by his celebrity status. Evidently, none of us knew about Yungblud before today.
"So what was all that about beefing with Eminem?" I ask.
"Well, Colson's had some drama, I guess," he tells me, smearing his sleeved hand under his chin, scraping at some scattered stubble. "I could ask for a pair of his underwear, if you really wanted."
I scoff at the offer. "You must think I'm a full blown creep."
"Maybe I do," he agrees with an easy shrug and a twisted little grin. "Truth he told, I've never been on the receiving end of a panty raid. Maybe this is just karma for my behavior in year 8."
"God, I'm so sorry," I groan, cupping my hands over my eyes. "I feel like such an ass."
"Well, a man's tour bus is a very intimate thing," he tells me, waggling a finger at me.
"But underwear isn't?"
The cashier calls to us, handing out two milkshakes and bidding us a short goodnight. We turn, cups in hand, and amble back toward the SUV. Adam is inside, door open, legs dangling, with a ridiculously oversized hamburger in hand.
Without any greeting I hand him the milkshake.
"For me?" he asks, through a mouthful.
"For you," I say. "Must've also been your tour bus I broke into."
"Holy fuck, what happened to your elbow?" Dom interjects, slapping his free hand over his mouth in a dramatic display of shock.
"Hm?" I ask, twisting my arm. Just below my bicep is a large wound, lined with dirt and dried blood. "Oh. I didn't even know."
"Did it happen when you fell?" he asks.
"Probably. But I've fallen multiple times since this morning."
"Oh," Dom whimpers, pouting. "I feel responsible."
"What, why? I crashed into you," I tell him, brushing the dirt away. "This would be, as usual, my own stupid fault."
"Don't say that," he says. "No, it looks painful. Adam, do we have that first aid kit?"
"It's never more than ten feet from you, dear," Adam replies sweetly. "You're you, after all."
"Right," Dom says, shoving his milkshake toward Adam, who takes it and rests it on the floor of the SUV. Then, he pops open the trunk and digs through the mess in the back. He reveals from the chaos a small white box, presenting it on his palm like an award, and lifts my arm into the dim lighting of the McDonald's for a better look.
"Please, don't play nurse. That's so sweet and tender I might just barf."
"I am very sweet," Dom tells me, squatting to rest the box on his lap as he prepares an alcohol wipe and a bandage. "Barf if you gotta."
I grit my teeth at the medicinal sting of alcohol on open skin.
"Haven't you done me enough favors today?" I ask, tight lipped and tense. "No police report, no forced removal, and now medical care and TLC?"
"Maybe I'm not even done yet," he says, pressing the bandage into my arm and sticking it down with gentle thumbs. "D'you feel like attending my afterparty-slash-open house? Considering you're from LA, and all."
"Good one," I tell him.
"No, seriously," Adam chimes in, receiving the first aid kit when Dom hands it over. "Our guest list is proper sad."
"How many people?" I ask.
"Three hundred or so."
"Three hundred?"
"I'm a social fucking butterfly," Dom pouts, gesturing for Adam to hand back his milkshake and killing the seconds between with a bouncy two-step. "It should be far more people."
"Well, maybe I don't want to go knowing you'd invite me," I say, stealing a glance at Jacob, now flopped over on his left side. "Clearly your judgment is cloudy if you'd have me as your houseguest, someone who literally raided your suitcase."
"Yes, and you haven't let me forget it, either," Dom says, with an unabashed smile and a barely detectable eye roll. "Bring as many guests as you like, as long as they're wild."
"I just might do that," I say. "But I—"
A disturbing retching from behind cuts me off. Dom and Adam stretch to see, and to my horror Jacob is propped up haphazardly on one elbow and vomiting onto the concrete below him.
"Fuck me," I mutter, mostly to myself. "I wanted to fuck him, not babysit him."
"Can't hold his liquor?" Dom asks, flopping backwards against the SUV and sipping casually at his milkshake drumming his fingers along the sides.
"Evidently not," I say, cupping one hand around my mouth, calling across the parking lot. "Jay, your brother's puking."
A moment of silence hangs in the air before a set of slapping footprints start toward us, accompanied by a long string of mumbled curse words. Jay appears at the front of the SUV, her once neatly braided hair pulled into a mess by Maya's notorious grabby hands.
"Where is he?" she asks me.
I point. She races toward him and pulls him partway up, swearing like a sailor, her insults articulating his drunken complaints. Maya appears a moment later, both dazed and irritated, reclasping her bra beneath her shirt.
"What the fuck, Marley?"
"What?"
"You couldn't have watched him for five more minutes?"
"You know I draw the line at vomit."
"You're just mad because I was getting laid and you weren't."
"Hey!" I snap at her, nodding toward Adam and Dom, concealed behind the open door of the SUV. "Be decent, would you?"
Dom pokes his head out and waves, full cheesing. 
"Right, sorry," she says, pressing her palm against her temple, steadying herself. "I guess I'm a little drunk. I'm Maya. And you're those guys. With the beef and the underwear."
"I guess that's our legacy now, Dom." Adam nudges him, crumpling his hamburger wrapper and tossing it into the backseat of the SUV.
"My lifelong dream."
Maya giggles girlishly, revealing her tipsiness. I check my phone for the time, to see if it's reasonably late enough to drag the two of us back to our hotel.
"That reminds me," Dom says, snapping his fingers and reaching toward me, grabbing at my phone. He still wears his signature smile. "Let me drop my info."
"Your info?" Maya gapes. "You're a goddamn wizard, Marley. Ain't he, like, famous?"
"He's just being nice," I whisper to her, willing her to shut her drunk mouth.
"No, I'm serious," Dom asserts, tapping away at my screen, brushing away stray hair that falls into his face from beneath his hood. "I want you to come."
Maya gasps, cupping her hands over her mouth and giggling uncontrollably into her palms. "Oh my god, Marley, he wants you to come."
Dom smirks, politely ignoring her for my sake.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper.
"Bring her, she's a laugh," he whispers back, winking, letting a charming chuckle slip. He turns, shooing Adam into the car and settling in next to him. "Thanks a ton for the milkshake."
"Will I see you tomorrow?" I ask him earnestly.
"I'll be around," he says. "I might just text you."
"I might just answer."
Maya explodes into giggles all over again. "Oh my god."
Dom shuts the door, poking his head out of the opened window as the car starts to roll away.
"When's the party?" I call to him.
"A week from tonight," he calls back. "And you best believe I'll have all my underwear locked up tight."
That comment breaks her. Maya topples over in laughter, collapsing to her knees in the vast drunken hilarity of it all. Dom's bright laugh emanates from the moving car as he watches me drag Maya back to her feet.
"Goodnight," I yell to him.
"Goodnight," he yells back, and then the SUV disappears into the night.