Bite Back 05 - Angel Stakes (3 page)

Therapy Session

Spring is here, but I’m still wearing a jacket this evening.

I’ve wrapped it tightly around myself, my hands jammed deep into the pockets as if I was cold. It’s comforting.

I don’t know why I’m here.

Everyone has heard the news, of course. Bad news pulses through the air faster than radio waves.

Lario had folded me into one of his big hugs that smelled of his good cooking and told me to take a couple of days on full pay. I skipped school. Cassie’s been trying my cell, but what is there to say?

I’ll talk to her tomorrow.

I feel bad that I just walked out of the house this evening, but Mom didn’t seem to be hearing anything I said and Kath has been crying all day.

I walked and walked, as if I could get away. Now it’s time to face it.

The Final Ruling came in, and we’re bankrupt. There’ll be no trouble selling the house, thank God, but that won’t clear the debt.

Mom has work. I tossed my college forms this morning and I’ll start applying for a full-time job. Tomorrow. Maybe I can keep working evenings for Lario as well. We’ll find a way, somehow.

Kath has to stay in school
and
go to college—I promised Dad.

So much to think about, so much to do, it seems to press me down into the sidewalk.

And I don’t know why I ended up here, outside Tanner’s house.

Inside, there’ll be a bunch of his friends who are all going to go to college in the fall. If they’re not talking about that, they’ll be talking about the prom, and I’m not going to that either. Or, given the kind of house and cars I can see here, maybe they’ll be talking about how their dads bought them their own little sports car after they got back from their last vacation in Europe.

That’s not fair.
My family’s bad luck isn’t their fault.

But I’m not going to be in the mood to party tonight.

I’m about to turn away and walk home when the door opens and the party spills out onto the drive in an explosion of loud talk and laughter.

I see immediately that it’s not just people from school. In fact, most of them look as if they’re in college. I’m sure some of them even come from ‘real life’—they work for a living.

“Amber, great you could make it.” Tanner strides over, his arms flung out in welcome. Somehow, I’m swept into one of the MPVs and we’re off in a convoy to a dance club. To ‘warm up’, as Tanner puts it.

It takes forty minutes to get to the club. No one seems to mind that I don’t say much, and they don’t talk about houses or cars. In fact, the people from South High talk about the sort of stuff that was going through my head last week—the feeling that our schooldays are slipping away and big, scary life is rushing up on us. No one wants to admit it, but it feels to me like we’re all desperate to hang on a little longer to the familiar safety of school, and that’s why the prom is such a big event.

There’s one guy in the car who does, indeed, work for a living. Working Guy’s been through what we’re about to go through, and he can’t help but make us feel a bit inadequate.

We finally get to the club. I’ve never been to a real dance club before, so when we get there, I’ve got nothing to compare it to.

We pile out of a dozen different cars. Working Guy seems to know the bouncers, and I swear something changes hands before we get waved in without ID checks.

I’m still not quite sure what I’m doing here, but maybe dancing is what I need.

Lario’s money in my pocket would pay the cover charge with enough left over to bail and get a cab home if needed, but Tanner insists on paying.

I’m not thinking of bailing when we get inside.

The club is amazing. Past the bar, there’s a huge dance floor sunk into a kind of smoky pit. Looming over it are two walls of plasma display panels, rippling and pulsing with images. Strobing lasers flicker overhead and glitter balls spin above us. The DJ is on a raised platform, half-hidden behind his gear and lit from below. He looks like some kind of shadowy demon as he pumps his music into banks of speakers. The crowd is jumping.

There’s no chance to talk. No awkward waiting to be asked to dance. All of us pour onto the dance floor and get with it.

I’m between Tanner and some bare-chested hunk in a Stetson and jeans, his abs gleaming with sweat.

The DJ knows his club. “Baby, One More Time” blurs without break into “Man, I Feel Like a Woman,” then favorites like “Believe,” “Heartbreak Hotel” and “No Scrubs.” The screens flash fragments of the promotional videos for the songs, spliced with views of the dance floor. It gets hotter and more crowded with every song. The moves get toned down, as we’re all bouncing off one another. I even bounce off Fay Daniels. For a second, I think it’ll be a problem, but she’s blissed out. She spins, ending up against Stetson Boy, and proceeds to do a slinky grind against him, which gets her a little space for appreciation.

A camera, hung from cables above, swoops out of the darkness like a raptor come to catch her. Fay is suddenly ten feet tall on the screens, rocking her hips against Stetson Boy in time to the music.

She sees the image. She laughs, turns around and pushes him away with her butt, trying to get the camera to focus just on her. It works for a second, and then the screens go back to showing the promo. Fay pouts.

It’s all in fun. No talking. No thinking. Living in the moment.

I don’t need to think about what I have to do tomorrow or the day after. That’s a blessing.

After an hour or so, we take a break.

I manage to get a drink of water and then someone thrusts a bottle of beer into my hand. Everyone downs theirs and heads back onto the floor. I follow.

A couple of repeats of that, then, acting on some kind of herd instinct, we decide it’s time for dinner. We pile out of the club and into the nearest Mexican restaurant for salty, spicy food and pitchers of cold beer.

By this time, we’re all flushed and loud and dizzy, but some of the others are drunk.

I’m worried about the drivers. Tanner seems sober, but maybe it’s time to split.

He talks me out of it. A few drift off. Most of us head back to Tanner’s house rather than the club.

Tanner’s house.
Wow.

His parents have let him convert the basement to a mini version of the club. Full-on DJ music system, speakers, a wall of plasma screens, disco lights, a bar with drinks.

We dance into the basement and start from where we left off at the club.

Tanner works the music and his choice is different from the club. Not being in the right scene, I’ve never heard of this stuff. Band names like Delirium and Transcending Knights. Heavy on dance beats and light on lyrics.

I don’t know them, but everyone else seems to. There are yells of appreciation for each new number.

It’s smaller than the club, so it’s just as tightly packed, even if some of the people I know from school didn’t make it back here. Others drift away as I dance on.

The promo video stuff is slick and weird at the same time—repetitive clips of scenes that almost seem to make sense before looping back, over and over, until I stop wondering what they mean.

Tanner hands over the music to someone else and he’s dancing with me. Not just next to me. Definitely with me. He’s brought a couple of beers and I swallow mine in a few long pulls.

Is this a date, then? Have I just scored a date to the prom? A boyfriend? Me?

Then there’s a new song and light show, and I stop thinking about anything else.

There’s a crash of thunder, and I half expect it to blend into “Riders on the Storm,” but this one’s a slower start, a half-tune, with two or three chords that sort-of promise a melody before repeating. A quiet, frantic drumming that’s distant, gradually getting closer. A robotic voice cycling through a couple of lines. A swirling video loop that looks as if it’s from a Japanese Sci-Fi cartoon. It’s difficult to get into the dance, but everyone else is excited.

Then there’s a bass beat like a herd of buffalo stampeding down the stairs. It makes my legs shiver and my stomach feel loose. The half-tune comes thundering back, powered like an old steam engine, and the floor erupts, carrying me and Tanner with it.

I feel lightheaded—as if I can dance myself off the floor.

Everyone’s amazing. I love them all.

Too soon, it seems to be fading to an end, but I can feel that the rest of them know better. They dance on to the vanishing beat, hands above their heads. A couple near us have their eyes closed, and they’re frowning as if it’s really important that they don’t lose that rhythm for a second.

The mournful sound of the high plains wind takes over. A single, distant tambourine chinks.

The screens go bright and featureless; then the white-out darkens to reveal two women, naked and motionless in the desert, hands across their chests and facing out into the dance floor. Their eyes are closed. The only thing that moves is their hair in the wind. The light drops and drops until the women are little more than outlines.

A red light begins to pulse right in the middle, between their shadows. Someone shouts. People clap in time to the light. Faster. Looking at the light is like looking into a deep, spooky well. I feel dizzy. I can see something rippling up through the blackness. Someone groans. It’d be funny, but it’s hooked me, too. I’m leaning towards it, willing whatever it is to bring back the beat.

It does. The plasma wall explodes with rainbows. Sound thunders up through our bodies. It all flows together, catches me up. It feels so good. Better than that. Perfect.

Welling up through me. Everything is good, everyone is my friend.

It’s just so
right
.

Then Fay is on screen. There’s a camera up in one corner of the room. It doesn’t swoop in like at the club, but it still zooms in on her. She’s dancing, and she does it well, drunk or not. When she notices, she laughs and plays to it, strutting and stroking.

Stetson Boy is dancing with her. He’s good, too, matching her lead. He still hasn’t got a shirt, and then suddenly, neither has Fay. She tosses it aside and sends the bra after it.

Even over the music I hear shouts of approval and encouragement.

I don’t know what to think of it. It’s her body. She chose to do that. That means she’s empowered, right? That sounds right and feels wrong. Or is that me?

She is beautiful. And Stetson Boy is handsome. Those are some abs he’s got.

They get all over each other.

Did I see her take a look around? Is she putting on a show for someone in particular?

Tanner?

The guy from the MPV is with them too. The one who has a job. Working Guy. Whatever. He reaches around her and cups her breasts in his hands.

They’re laughing, so I guess it’s okay.

Everything is good.

Then she’s kissing them.

I stumble. Lost track I guess. Serves me right.

Tanner catches me. It feels good with his arms around me. It feels very good.

We’re still moving with the music, but we’re off at the edge of the dance floor.

There aren’t any chairs, just a bench where the drinks were stacked. Bare now.

Did we drink all that?

Stupid thing to be thinking of when Tanner kisses me.

I don’t know what to think of that either. He’s everyone’s heartthrob, sure, but if this is a date, it’s our first date.

So what?

He’s good. Not that I’ve had boyfriends to compare him with.

His hand is on my breast.

“Feels good, huh?”

I don’t know what to say.

Yes. Everything is good. Everything is warm and glossy: the touch of his hand, his teeth on my ear.

He groans something and his hand slides from my breast to my belly.

I can’t push him away; if he wasn’t holding me, I think I’d just melt into the table top.

Someone else is yelling something.

“Just sit here. I’ll be right back,” he says.

There’s movement across the room, but my eyes can’t seem to focus.

Some guys are going up the stairs. Cheers. High fives as they go.

Leaving?

It’s not making any more sense than the stuff on the plasma screens and I’m not feeling so good now.

There’s something wrong, but I can’t process it.

Can’t see clearly.

I rub my eyes and look down. Damn. My shirt is hanging open.

Something about the dance crowd. All my new dance friends. There’s something that’s changed.

No girls left in the basement.

Shit. I know this is bad, but I can’t think why. They’re all my new friends, aren’t they?

I need the bathroom.

There’s one off to the side. I make it to the toilet and I lose everything from the whole evening down the bowl.

I drink the water out of the faucet until I vomit again. Again. Again.