Author's Note: I changed Delaine's hair from being ubercurly to more-or-so wavy. Deal and please review! This new, but give it a shot!

Chapter 1- Club Deville

“Delaine! Delaine? Oh good, you’re here,” said Monty, popping in the room. “Is the Chevy done?”

“Yeh,” I said, rolling out from under the car. “I was starting the car to test the engine and it smells like shit in there, so I took the liberty to put in one of those tree things and a bunch of Febreze.” Monty laughed.

“I’m sure the guy will appreciate the extra customer service,” he grinned, scratching his dirty blonde hair. “Keys?” I tossed them to him and he started to leave the garage when he called over his shoulder, “Your shift’s over, get out of here!” his blue eyes flashed playfully.

“But extra cash sounds so tempting,” I drawled.

“Out,” he ordered. I threw up my hands in surrender and grabbed my bag, tossing it over my shoulder. I got in the car and started my ride home.

I got there in time to see my mom on the rare occasions when she was sober.

“Hi honey! I made spaghetti and meatballs!”

“Wasn’t that in the refrigerator already?”

“Fine, get technical on me!” my mom, Veronica, said. “I microwaved up some spaghetti and meatballs for us.”

“Thanks, but I’ll shower first.”

“Good because you smell like car.” Veronica was actually a fun person to hang around when she was sober. She had a sense of humor and was overall laid-back and relaxed. She acted more like a roommate than a mom, but it works out well that way. I get my freedom and personal space, and she gets hers, along with booze. Call me cynical, but that’s just the way it is- the sky is blue, the earth is green, my mom likes liquor, and I like adventure and drama.

I stripped from my work clothes and hopped in our little apartment shower. I scrubbed the oil out from under my nails and worked a lather of suds into my long locks. I remember that dad always loved my long hair, and always insisted on me keeping it at least half way down my back. With all the length, though, my hair wasn’t as curly as it would be if it was a foot shorter. However, it was layered, so the shorter pieces liked to curl up. Of course, that could be fixed with a straightening iron, one of the Christmas presents I gave myself for all my hard work.

It took almost a half an hour to do my hair and Veronica was yelling that it was time to go, so I pulled on some clothes- tight jeans, and a black shirt with a “v”-shaped neckline in the front and back. I grabbed my make-up bag and hopped in the car, trying to put on eyeliner, mascara, and a bit of red lipstick at stoplights.

We got to Club Deville and I helped Veronica unload the car. I went looking for Chris, but he found me first.

“Hey Delaine!” called from across the room. I could see his head looming over the room. He had black hair, dark eyes, and light skin. One of his eyebrows was pierced and his hair was spiked, like normal. He was in his usual attire, black shirt, black pants that reached his knees with a silver studded belt and chain by his hips, white socks, and black shoes. The only thing particular about him was his extraordinary height and the cross necklace he always wore. Chris loved God and it showed in the lyrics he wrote in a notebook. Chris was determined to rock out and worship at the same time. He looked hard and cold on the outside but was really deep, passionate, and amiable once you talked to him. “How’s life?”

“Crappy,” I said, ironically grinning from ear-to-ear, “and you?”

“Now that’s not the spirit,” he said, looking down at me crossly. “Repeat after me: ‘Today is good; tomorrow will be better.’”

“Stupid optimists,” I grumbled.

“Oh, come on, Delaine! If you just look up from your little, dark corner you’ll see the light…”

“Chris, I’m really not in the mood to be preached to right now.”

“You never are,” he murmured, loud enough for me to hear him. He looked the slightest bit sad, so I pulled him over to the bar, where I bough him a Coke to cheer him up.

“We’ll just wait till the rest of the crew shows up,” I said, peering at the door. Lindsey was the first to show up, like normal. She was one of the few people in the universe who truly cared about me. We met years before my mom’s accident and has been there for me during all those rough times. She had the biggest smile ever and the same red hair and blue eyes as me, except her hair was shorter and she had freckles. We were two-peas in a pod, more like sisters then friends.

“Hey Della! Ooh, cute shirt!”

“You said that last week, Linds,” I moaned.

“I know, but it’s just so perfect for you!”

“Thank you?”

“Look,” she said, indicating towards her feet, “I got those cute shoes we were looking at awhile ago.”

“The silver strappy ones?”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t…speak…girlish…” said Chris, pretending to gag.

“Be a man!” cried Lindsey, “pull yourself together! Can’t we talk about shoes for more than thirty seconds without complaining?”

“Don’t worry, I’m here for you, bro.” That was Chase, who popped in time to catch on to the conversation. Chase was a little punk, as we fondly called him, but a true jokester, always making wisecracks and smart-ass remarks.

Jess showed up next. She was nice and fun to be around, but she was really bad-to-the-bone. She did everything- liquor, smoke, and slept around, a deadly combo. She truly lived life on the edge.

Domingo popped in next. He’s quite a cool guy and taught me Spanish for awhile. Domingo is a really laid back guy and is all ears when you need someone to talk to. He’s always doing people favors and getting them out of trouble (especially Jess), and knows everyone you’d ever want and not want to know. He’s not trouble, but knows trouble by the back of his hand.

Keisha came in not long after Domingo. I was always jealous of her perfect, dark complexion, and beautiful, dark, curly hair, but she was always nothing but nice to me. She had her bad streaks here and there, but that just made her all the more full to hang out with. She wanted to go on the biggest rollercoasters, go into the scariest places, and do the craziest dares. Keisha was just a party ready to happen.

Mike was the last to show up. He was your epitome of a mystery man- tall, dark, and handsome. No one in our group was attracted to him, but everyone else and their older brother’s second cousin once removed seemed to be in love with him. Mike was quiet, and generally kept to himself, but our group knew he was a painter. I saw some of his work, and it was really good. Dark, but really good.

The eight of us grabbed a table and tried to talk before the music started. Lindsey showed Jess her new shoes, while Keisha talked about a college party she went to.

“You should’ve been there Delaine! It was amazing! And the guys- they were so mature, way better than high school guys. I could hook you up with one…”

“I told you already, Keisha,” I moaned, “I don’t have time for such…pettiness!” I cried, searching for the right word. “In fact, I don’t have time at all! Between work and being a designated driver for my mom, I try to sleep. I like to sleep,” I pouted. Girls walked passed our table, giggling and eyeing Mike.

“How do you do it, man?” asked Domingo, his accent prominent.

“I don’t know,” said Mike, shrugging, “I just act natural.”

“Well that doesn’t work for me!” cried Domingo. Mike shrugged again.

“I wonder why?” asked Chase, ever so dramatically. Domingo playfully punched Chase.

“Chase, don’t pick on Domingo,” said Chris, “he can’t help it that he’s short!” Chase laughed and high-fived Chris.

“Well at least I...never mind,” muttered Domingo, unsuccessfully trying to think of a comeback.

“Lets here it from our favorite band at Club Deville, On the Rocks!” cried the announcer. Veronica appeared on stage and the music began.