1. Brody

“Dude, just give me a fix. I can’t handle that shit in there. My parents, that bitch…”

Red is shifting uncomfortably beside me, shivering in the cold. We stepped outside the side entrance of the parking lot. Rough pavement and sports cars surround us. Our parents hard earned cash shining through the rows of Aston martins and Mercedes.

“I only have cigarettes.” Cale frowned. “I’m not carrying that stuff around when the school is all hopped up with parents.”

“Fuck.” I swear, stamping my foot on the pavement.

I just want a fix. So the shitty shit that is going on tonight will just evaporate and blow away like smoke.

“Chill, man.” Cale says quietly.

Red still hasn’t spoken.

“I hate that bitch.” Is all I can manage to say.

Cale coughs and nods, which I suppose is his way to be reassuring. He’s not always the most helpful of best friends at times. Cale’s never has been one for bad talking.

“The fucking nerve of her.”

Cale hands me a smoke. Hesitates, and then hands me two more.

I laugh grimly. He smiles and pats me on the back. The three of us smoke in silence. Red and Cale stomp out their butts while I’m firing up my second.

“We should head back in.” Cale says.

“I’ll catch up.” I say.

Red gives me a look, squeezes my shoulder quickly and then follows Cale back inside. I listen to the clack of her heels fade from the pavement.

Mmm, sweet nicotine. Blowing out smoke, I glance into the forest. The trees shiver, looking spindly and bare in the wind. Sort of reminds me a bit of the Blair Witch Project, and I shudder despite myself. I can’t wait for this fucking night to end.

2. Oliver

“I think I’m going to head home now, Mom.”

My mom is staring off into space, quietly sipping at her drink.

“Mom?” I repeat, a littler louder. She is so fragile and thin.

“Oh? I’m sorry dear. Dozed off a little there.”

“You feeling okay?” I ask.

“Fine sweetie.” She purses her lips. “What were you saying?”

“I think I’m going to head home.” I say slowly. “Can I call you a cab?”

“Okay…” She drifts off.

“We’ll have breakfast in the morning. Okay?”

She nods and smiles. Seeing my mom in this state makes me so on edge.

After saying goodbye to the guys I walk mom out to the front of the school and call her a cab back to the hotel. I tell her I’ll walk home. The air is cool but I’ll manage. Before getting in the cab, she kisses me softly on the cheek.

“Great to see you kiddo.” She whispers.

I wave and watch until the cab disappears around the corner. I head off for my apartment, which is a good twenty-minute walk from the school, but I don’t mind. What’s waiting for me back home is worth the walk.

The trees shiver and dance in the night air and I think about my poor old Mom. Ever since Dad left us September she’s been this way. I can think back to when she was happy. When we were all happy. This was all before that fateful Thursday afternoon when I stopped by my dad’s office to drop off a few letters. That fateful Thursday afternoon when I didn’t bother knocking on my dad’s office door because I thought he had nothing to hide from me. Clearly, walking in on my father and his secretary was not what I had expected to see when I opened that door. Three months, a lot of screaming and one nasty divorce later, my dad was gone. And my mom was never the same.

My inner rant about my father has eaten up a lot of the walk, and I find myself turning the corner onto my street. I had asked Clark if she wanted to come tonight, but she replied “There’s a special on America’s Next Top Model tonight I don’t want to miss.” In other words, I knew she was still uncomfortable with the difference between our social statuses. The guys were already skeptical about her, calling me a pushover for letting her stay. But it wasn’t like that. Sure I had listened to her whole story, she had been sleeping with her boss for drugs and a place to stay. Her boss being the owner of a local strip joint, where she worked as a waitress. Anyway, they had a fight, he chucked her out and she had nowhere to go, that was until the night she stumbled across me that fateful night at the bar and I took her home.

I made the decision to let her stay not because of her story, but because I genuinely enjoyed the girl’s company. There was something about her that snagged my attention. She was a curious case. She hadn’t asked to stay either; I had been the one to make the offer. The guys all thought I was crazy letting some random broad mooch off my apartment, but I didn’t give a fuck what they thought. They weren’t getting to know her the way I was and they weren’t sleeping with her either.

When I get home, she’s curled up on the couch in shorts and a tank top, eating a bowl of chocolate ice cream. She sets the bowl down immediately as I walk in and looks embarrassed.

“How’s your show?” I ask, yanking off my tie and tossing it on the floor.

“Good.” She smiles. “How was your thing?”

“Lame.” I grin. “But it’s over now.”

She raises an eyebrow; those steely blue eyes get me going.

“So your free for the rest of the night?” She asks.

I unbutton the top three buttons of my dress shirt. “Yes,” I reply. “But I was thinking of going to bed.”

“Oh.” She says, sounding disappointed.

I walk over to her and gently pull her to her feet.

“Now,” I say quietly, wrapping her warm body up in my arms. You could describe her perfectly with a perfume add. ‘Soft and Sensuous’ or ‘Delicate and sweet with just a hint of seduction.’

“Now, I didn’t say anything about sleeping.”

3. Clark

I wonder if he’ll ever know how much he saved me.

I feel like a snake shedding my skin as I slide out of my clothes, writhing naked on the bed. His hand moves across my stomach, down my thigh, and then finally to the place where I want it to go. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath and think back to my consumption list today.

3 glasses of water

1 piece of leftover pizza

1 bowl of ice cream

2 Prozac

1 Celexa

1 Valium

4 Advil, 500 mgs a pop (to take the edge off the hangover)

4 glasses of Jack

Uppers, downers, tumblers, shooters. It’s all part of my game. My stomach gives an unsettling growl and he stops for a moment. I shrug and motion for him to continue. It’s no biggie. The ice cream probably isn’t mixing well with the drugs, that’s all.

He kisses the crook of my neck and I can hear my breath deepen.

I wonder if he’ll ever know.

Something chokes up inside me. It’s not the liquor, or the half stale pizza. It’s not the Valium or the Prozac either. It’s something else.

“Oliver?” I say.

“Mmm.” He grunts, his hot breath filling my ear.

“Thank you for finding me.” I say quietly.

It sounds so stupid. Like a bad movie line and I want to kick myself for it the moment it escapes my mouth. He stops the pleasuring and props himself up to look me in the eye.

You’ve really gone and fucking done it now. The next words to come out of his mouth will be “Bitch, get the fuck out of my bed. Get out of my home.”

“You’re welcome.” He says simply. “Thank you for letting me find you.”

Wait.

What?

He leans down and gently brushes his lips against my forehead, then resumes what he was doing.

How did I ever get this blessed?

I crawl back into my mind, allowing the sensations of my body pulse through me and take over.

“Are you hot yet?” He asks.

He doesn’t wait for the reply. He knows.

“You wanna get high?”

Blessed.

I am blessed.

4. Parker

Sitting at her one of a kind, cherry oak, 3,000-dollar desk, Parker Davis picks up a pen and tries to write something she never thought she would write.

Dear Brody,

Seeing you tonight brought back—

She stops, crumples up the first sheet and tosses it over her shoulder. She tries again.

Dear Brody,

She scratches out the “dear” furiously with her pen, breaking through the paper.

Brody,

Seeing you tonight made me realize how much I truly hate you.

“Fuck.” She swears, which is an unlikely occurrence for Parker Davis. Parker Davis, the model young woman. The star. The closest thing to a celebrity the town will ever know. Parker Davis and her glory and triumph.

But this is a rare happening. Parker Davis and her sorrows and woes. She balls the paper into her fist and chucks it at the wall in front of her.

Brody,

I hope your having fun fucking that red headed bitch. I hope she gives you enough herpes to permanently shrivel your dick or whatever is left of it by now. I hope you know that the best day of my life was the day I left you and I have never been happier about any decision that I have ever made. You’re such a piece of shit and I hope you fucking—

Crumple. Toss. Inhale. Exhale. Sigh.

Her fingers hover over the paper, hand trembling, her lip biting off the remainder of her Yves Saint Lauren lipstick.

Brody,

I am still in love with you and I hate myself for it.

Yours Truly,

-Parker

5. From the desk of Brody Jameson

Sunday- sleep

Monday- school (shit)

Tuesday- school (shit)

Wednesday- school (shit)

Thursday- school (shit)

Friday- time to fly