City of Singles (18 page)

Dougie steps out of the McD’s and Dylen looks agitated, Cara is getting a light from a stranger. “You guys want anything? Liz needs food.”

“Aww it’s so sweet when she eats too!” Cara purrs, “She takes little nibbles! Yeah I want a shake.”

Dylen turns to Cara “Watch my shit, I need to see a menu!” and leaves through the door into McDonald’s.

Dougie shrugs, Cara points back towards the McD’s and tells Dougie she wants a chocolate, no, no, strawberry shake! Dougie nods and ducks back in, and down the long, corridor shaped urban McDonald’s. Dougie can’t understand how these people want to eat, the drugs in his system working to ignore all needs to dine or sleep.

Liz and Dylen are lost in conversation. The fat man on the phone is talking about eating pussy. “Hey, hey man, your girl on the rag and you never had your red wings? Haha bro! Bro it’s fucken’ choice bro!” The whole restaurant can hear him.

Dougie looks around nervously, he knows Dylen can be the hot head sometimes, that bipolar maniac has some serious attitude problems some days. Now it’s Dougie acting the fool and getting all bothered by some fat d-bag guy yelling into his phone. Dougie can’t believe Dylen hasn’t said something. Dylen is laughing. He can totally hear the fat idiot describe how the side to side motion of eating a girl out on her period would leave red blood in a wing pattern on your cheeks. Funny though, on drugs he knows he has a much higher tolerance for getting pissed off. Dylen is thinking of how sexy Liz looks.

Liz is horrified. Dylen mentioned how he wants to steal a couple nuggets, somewhere inside Liz’s mind it translates into her being fat. He wants to eat her nuggets because if she eats them all, she’ll gain weight. Liz takes all of her focus to not run out of the lineup while laughing nervously at the chicken nugget theft comment. Dougie is staring at some fat, annoying greasy East Indian guy. Liz hates East Indians, but she’s not racist. She had her car hit and ran twice by brown guys, and when she worked at the keg in Surrey, East Indians would give shitty tips. They would rev the engines of their Mustangs in the parking lot before leaving, assholes. Maybe this guy had a Mustang, she thinks anyone who drives one is an automatic cheesedick. Liz would tell anyone that she hates racists if they asked. Liz thinks to herself how she was so fucking thin back then and sighs.

Dougie is pissed. The fat guy is now yelling at the McDonald’s people to hurry the fuck up with his meal. His attention diverted for a moment, he screams “Yeah I fucken know, 15 minutes for a fucken’ burger!” The scurrying little immigrant Asians working behind the counter dash and spin aimlessly while beeps go off on the deep fryer. One of the older ones is the only one actually doing anything, firing fries and burgers into bags, a shadow passes behind the food chute and another couple burgers slide down to fill waiting orders. Dylen shifts his weight onto his right leg and sighs.

Liz grows impatient and pulls out her phone to text, Cara is on her 3rd smoke, high as balls, and freezing cold. Liz texts Cara that she’s getting a nice strawberry shake and to chill out. Then writes back and apologizes for the choice of words. The line shuffles forward and fat phone guy is two orders back in line. A tray sitting with fries and a pop gets a burger on it, finally. Liz swears it was on the counter when they first walked in. Fat phone guy starts waving at someone in the back, “Hello China? Where’s my burger? This is fast food, stop cooking like you’re driving!” A few people laugh.

“Sir, please stop,” the littlest looking Asian grandma working the counter looks tired. She’s not working the 3 AM shift for fun, and the pleading look on her face says everything. Dougie and Dylen both glance at each other and think the same thing. Liz is looking a little panicked, her fingers text away to calm her. Fat phone guy walks over to the woman at the counter and barks a few f-bombs about his fucken burger and fucken fries. “You what? Fuck this!” fat phone guy says as he throws his cup on the floor, the lid flies off, and ice scatters everywhere. Shoulders fall down and sag on the older woman working here, she looked a little down when Dylen walked in, looks like clinical depression now.

Dougie feels a surge of empathy and growls, “Dude you’re a real piece of shit.”

Dylen’s face lights up in a maniacal smile.

Fat Phone looks at Dougie, “Hey buddy you could end up cut up for that, Sicilian neck tie mother fucker!” and draws a line across his throat.

Dougie laughs. “Bitch,
please
, cheeseburger gangsters don’t scare me.”

Fat Phone takes a couple steps forward towards Dougie, ice crunching underfoot.

“You have no idea who you’re fucken with,” Fat Phone’s face goes completely blank, a psychotic look of rage in his eyes. His hand lifts up the corner of his shirt to reveal a sheathe tucked into his waistband, a finger flicks the cover open.

Dougie’s face a portrait of tension, the whole restaurant goes silent save for the beeping of french fry alarms.

“That’s what I thought,” Fat Phone sneers, Dougie unwilling to risk getting cut over nothing.

Dylen throws his arms in the air wildly, “Ohh pick me! I already want a makeover and a painful death!” and kneels in front of Fat Phone, arms outstretched to the ceiling, chin up and back offering the neck for a willing blade.

Liz’s mouth hangs open, these guys she just met are fucking crazy!

“Just fucken’ do it you fucking poosaaaaay!” Dylen screams while slobbering drunk, eyes closed and kneeling.

Dougie and Fat Phone sort of stare at each other, each turning to look at a frantic, almost possessed-looking Dylen.

“Fucken clowns,” Fat Phone mutters, his eyes glancing in the direction of the exit.

When Fat Phone guy finally tries to step around Dougie, he slips on some ice. As Dougie has trained in martial arts for years, the sudden movement Fat Phone guy made is mistaken for getting swung on, and Dougie quickly throws an overhead right while ducking. Audible popping as flesh sandwiched between knuckles and cheek does little to protect bone. Faces in the crowd widen with shock of spectacle, Fat Phone staggers back slowly while his snapped jaw looks inhuman. Ice cubes form a slippery minefield underfoot, sending Fat Phone flailing and crashing headfirst into the fountain pop machine. With a huge smash followed by a brief stunned silence of the crowd, Fat Phone lands in a barely coherent pile on the floor. Dougie grabs Dylen and rushes him out the front door of McD’s fine restaurant-turned-dojo. Cara isn’t at the front door. Dylen looks around in a haze as Dougie spots her nearby with and cops coming up the street only a few meters away. Thinking fast, Dougie says “Dyl, move,” and walks with him in the opposite direction. Cara is a few meters from the opposite side of the door, opening it for the police and pointing in. “Cara! Here!” Dougie’s voice says in an anxious whisper, his arm flailing franticly to motion her over. Cara holds up her phone and grins, “Guys, Liz said there was going to be a fight and I told these cops that the guy had a knife!” Cara’s phone goes off, “Oh my god! Haha! They just threw him down on the floor and are all laying on him. Knees all up on his back and everything haha!” Cara cackles in delight, her head peeking around the side of the door. “Yep they are working him over good, haha!” Cara is enjoying this a little much. Dougie and Dylen grab the bags and tell Cara to walk back with Liz, fast. Dougie and Dylen book it the fuck out of there to avoid charges, but mostly because it shouldn’t take 30 minutes to get some fucken ice.

23 Jaw Boogie

Ice water runs down my forearms which mimic jogging sniffles up my nose, I’m a mess of leaky fluids, no dignity and numbed flesh. The back of a cop car would at least be warm right now, but the drunk tank is never as fun as my bed with a girl in it. My hands are freezing and my nose is simply arctic. Liz is smoking and stumbling every so often. Dougie and Cara look like an old couple the way they stroll together arm in arm, if only for tonight.

We get back to the party, greeted with shifty eyed people strung out on speedy E, or that’s at least what they’re complaining about as they rip open bags of ice, taking handfuls and rubbing it on their chests and necks. “That’s for drinks guys, FUCK!” Matt says as he grows more frustrated, his brow glistening and his movements twitchy. Dougie and Cara move out to the balcony, through the sliding glass door I can tell he’s kissing her with his hand between her legs.

“Here,” Liz passes me another drink. I take it and suck back a mouthful of vodka that wasn’t stirred at all. A hint of the mix keeps me from gagging, fumes into my frozen nose flow with the subtly of chainsaws on fire. Liz sneaks a little plate over to the couch and calls for me. I’m laughing and nodding at Matt, I haven’t understood a word he’s said since he did a monster rail a minute ago. Time gets lost, I sit on the couch and do lines with Liz, my hand slides back up her dress and I dip a finger back inside her wet warmth.

She squeals and is oblivious to anyone around us. A girl sitting across from us smiles while watching with lust in her eyes, a curiosity fueled by drugs, liquor, and a need to get off. The party is raging and Matt yells out “Yo we gonna pop a bottle in the tub!” I turn and see a champagne bottle come out of the fridge, a few people disappear down the hallway towards the bedroom where the fun is.

I feel Liz’s hand on my wrist and she gently pulls my finger into her deeper, her hips slide forward and back on the couch. Liz’s skirt rides up and her panties are visible, the girl across from us sees my finger sliding in and out of Liz’s swollen, juicy lips and her mouth drops open a little. Liz lets out a little moan and arches her back, a few people are watching Liz enjoy herself, as she drops her head behind her shoulders with eyes closed.

I pull my finger out of her, thick, clear juices coat my finger and I stick it in my mouth to clean it. She tastes so delicious and my cock stirs from a cocaine coma.

The brunette across from us squints at me with a look of jealousy. I slide my hand back up Liz’s skirt, her inner thigh soft and hot to the touch, her waxed labia invites my finger to play and find her petite opening. Inserted to the first knuckle, her pussy tightens and squeezes on me, second knuckle and I have to push harder to bury it all the way in. I make my favorite come hither motion inside her with my finger and Liz muffles her enjoyment with only the slightest hint of shyness. I pull my finger back out, coated again in Liz’s cum, turn, and offer it to the brunette. Without a moment of hesitation, she jumps out of her chair, sits beside Liz, and performs fellatio on my finger, sucking it hard and cleaning it of any trace of Liz’s cream.

A couple people in the kitchen may have noticed, but mostly there are only a few girls in the living room where we’re sitting. The brunette looks down at Liz and says “Hi!” with such enthusiasm. Liz looks at her, bites her own lower lip, grabs the brunette by the hair, and begins the longest and most passionate kiss I’ve seen in a long time. My dick roars to life in my pants and I almost feel light headed, euphoria takes over and my hand slides up the brunette’s dress. For a moment I feel like I’m intruding on personal space, but she spreads her thighs enough to get my fingers to her panties. Her soaking lace panties are easy to slip my fingers behind and a small amount of course hair scratches the cuticle of my fingernail. A little wiggle to find the passage inside her and she finally stops tongue kissing Liz long enough to give out a “Wow ...” my finger slides in and out of her, she’s wetter than Liz was.

Liz smiles and says “You’re hot,” to the girl, my finger pulling out of her and I offer it to Liz. She licks it from the 3rd knuckle to the top, and then the brunette puts her mouth down on it and sucks the rest of her own flavour off.

Liz giggles and hugs the brunette girl, “New bestie!” she purrs.

The brunette smiles, “I’m Alicia, you guys are?”

“Dylen,” I say, hoisting my drink to my mouth and sipping.

“Elizabeth, but my friends call me Liz; my lovers can call me anything they want.”

Liz bites her lower lip, her eyes squint to almonds while gazing at Alicia’s body, sizing up her prey.

“Here, have some,” Liz sits up, snatches the little plate from the table and offers Alicia a rail. She accepts a pinner sized line while I put my drink down to snort back another small one. Liz loads both of her nostrils with a couple of towering snow drifts. With an orange peel throat and wild eyes, I lean back and hold my jaw in place from grinding. Liz lights up a smoke. Alicia goes in and loads her other nostril before making a little scowl. “Wow. Fuck. This stuff is smooth.” Alicia bursts into a giggle and her scowl turns into a smile. Liz laughs “I know eh? The fucker I buy from snuck in a batch of whack shit last time, this is his best and I don’t accept anything less.”

Alicia looks back towards the crowd in the kitchen nervously for a moment. “I’ve uh, only done this stuff a couple times before and it just made me feel anxious and it hurt my nose.” Alicia talks a little quieter than she did before. She looks younger than Liz; I’d be surprised if she’s a day over 23.”Yeah we were all rookies once,” Liz quips as she OCD relights her still burning cigarette. “Once you get to where I’m at, you know what you like and where to get it.” Liz tilts her head back and blows a few smoke rings.

Matt stomps over from the kitchen. “Fuck off Liz; you know you can’t smoke in here.” Matt powerwalks with gusto to the balcony door.

“Here, this, this place is where cigarettes fucking go, Ok? Fuck.
Fuck!
” He throws his hands in the air and laughs, then scowls again.

“F-F-FUCK!”

“Yo Matt, chill!” I hear behind me from the kitchen.

Liz jumps up and goes outside with her drink, turning around to pop her head in the doorway.

“Alicia, wanna smoke?”

“Sure!” Alicia replies, shooting me a smile as she gets up and walks towards the balcony. She has thicker, shorter legs, a wide ass, and a narrow upper body. Very fuckable.

Lens flare over a beach of white sand, Alicia’s bikinied ass. A bright yellow dot of sun in a sky one shade lighter than the water below. A stereo beside me belts out California by Phantom Planet, grit under the cap of a Corona bottle crunches as I pop the lid off.

My wishful future life as drawn by MS Paint.

Matt sits down across from me. “Fucken bitches think they just own this place, Liz knows we’re cool, but fuck man, the ‘tude on her.” Another fresh pile is on the plate and Matt goes down for another bump. I think my heart would explode if I did another. I nod, which then turns into a head bob to the music. Matt smiles at me.

“Buddy, we should hang out more, it’s been awhile! Remember our last party? Haha ... SHIT! You were in the tub covered in bubbles and you made out with that cute broad with the curly hair. She was supposed to come tonight too, fucken reunion!”

I nod, I really don’t remember what he’s talking about. My eyes close to allow my head to flow with the music, vanguard of my euphoria. My body doesn’t so much as sit on the couch, as it sucks the comfort from it. Matt rambles on and the words blossom into laughter and high fives. I don’t know if I forgot what he said as he said it, or if the words just fell apart in mid-air.

Someone yells from the kitchen. Matt catches his phone. Hollywood Undead fills the room and Matt jumps up and down on his couch. Berserk laughter tilting my head back, light sprays across the stucco ceiling.

Children in summertime, running through rainbow prism water spray, mutt dogs in tow. Sunshine through lemonade, watching rind dance and swirling around on its own. Ugly bugs, your first bee sting, those scary times of learning how to ride a bike. Those pure days of innocence might be lost by giving smartphones to kids. I’ll have to remember that. Will I ever have a family or kids to call my own? These girls are what, 20? Practically kids themselves, and what am I doing here? Who am I kidding, this is my fate, this is where I belong, not fucking for love, but to see what’s behind her thong.

Noise blends together into a force that keeps my head nodding and my foot tapping. “Dylen,” Liz jumps into my lap. “Dylen!” Disco lights. “Dylen!” Liz sits sideways across my legs. A smoky kiss glides across my lips, and 50,000 stories up my mind registers pleasure. Alicia giggles, “He’s so high!” I smile, turn my head, and look at her down my nose.

“Dyll-en …” Liz whispers.

I can’t take my eyes off Alicia.

Liz bites my ear.

Matt’s sweaty, meaty head appears in front of me.

“Dude, we have some great E on its way! Hehehe!!” he laughs maniacally and I sit up in time to see him jump on the couch beside Alicia and then jump over the back of it. A couple dudes I don’t recognize walk by with a fat chick in tow to the balcony.

“Dyllll-en,” Liz whispers again.

“Yeah Lizzy Lizzerson?” I reply.

“You’re such a poo-say! I’m done my drink before you, again! Here I thought I met a man ...” Liz has put half her hair into one demented looking ponytail, crosses her eyes, and sticks out her tongue before bursting into laugher. I take my queue and finish the rest of my now-warm vodka cranberry.

“It’s a good thing we’re having a tough guy competition tonight Liz, you’re going to earn your Fuckstronaut badge tonight when we each rail a cap of E.” I wink at her.

“Ooh! Pinky swear we will Dyl?” Liz offers me her little mini pinky finger, hooked to complete my promise.

“Pinky swear.”

“It’s a deal!”

“Ok, but you have to keep one side of your hair in pigtail. I think it suits you.”

Alicia laughs from the other couch.

“She should do one too! She’s just a rookie, let’s
brrrrr
eak her in!” Liz growls the r and points at her. Alicia feigns shock and giggles, meanwhile I’m fantasizing about how wide her hips are compared to her waist. She doesn’t have quite the body or daddy issues to be a stripper, but she would make one boner-fueling burlesque dancer.

“Hey Dylen! Get over here!” Matt yells from the hallway.

“I take a couple uppers,” Matt sings, as he closes the door behind his delivery man.

“I down a couple downers!” echoed by a couple of ball capped guys from the kitchen.

“But nothing compares to these blue and yellow purple pills!” Matt hollers as he skips to the kitchen, Irish-clicks his heels, and tosses a huge zip lock bag full of pills on the kitchen counter.

“Whoa,” says Raiders cap guy.

“Fuck yeah!” says a skinny blonde next to him, as she lifts the zip lock up to admire the easily five hundred or more blue pills.

Matt snatches the bag from her hand. “NEVER touch my drugs,” he hisses. For a moment things seem sinister, but Matt’s face relaxes into a grin as he opens the bag, and hands her a blue cap. Matt again reaches in the bag, takes three caps out, and swallows them with a straight vodka chase from the bottle. “Yo everyone, I need $10 per cap, no exceptions!” Matt yells as he hands me a cap. His hand was a little sweaty and the cap bleeds an M&M candy blue in my palm. Then he gives one to Raider hat. He takes a couple pills and walks to the couches to give them to Liz and Alicia. I watch as Matt hands out at least a pill each to the dozen or more people milling around the kitchen and living room without taking any money from them. Did he forget already? Fuck it. I pour myself another drink and return to the couches.

Alicia is sitting on the couch with Liz, blue pill on the table, eye fixed on the prize. I take a seat on the couch across from them, careful not to sit on Matt’s dirty shoeprints. “Alicia do you want me to wait for it to kick in, I’ll let you know if it’s speedy,” Liz says so sweetly. Alicia glances at her for a second, and looks back at the pill. “No, it’s not that, I just know that people die on this stuff. What if I have an allergic reaction or something?” Liz smiles.

“Look honey, I’m almost a decade older than you. I’ve seen my share of drugs and nobody has allergies to this stuff.”

I raise my eyebrow. This is like The View, only leading to a drugged up threesome. I knew a girl once who overdosed, she died after working as a hooker for a couple weeks on Kingsway. Did too much down and slipped under the bathwater.

I miss her.

“Yeah you’re probably right. You only live once right? I like that song by Drake,” Alicia picks the pill up off the table, her eyes widen with excitement.

“You guys will stay with me tonight?” Alicia says with a sultry tone.

I can already see what’s coming, and I’m not even that excited.

“Yeah, for sure,” Liz says, and puts her drink in Alicia’s free hand.

“Oh god I’m not washing down my first pill with vodka and cranberry!” Alicia protests.

“Yes!! Yes you are!” Liz takes Alicia’s hand and nearly forces the pill into her mouth, Alicia chases it with Liz’s cirrhosis special and chokes on the drink. Vodka and cranberry spray from Alicia’s face, some landing in the coke, most of it on Liz.

“Oh SHIT!” Liz squeals, jumping off the couch.

Alicia pats her chest and coughs. “It’s, ah ...stuck!” her face and brow contort in discomfort. I get up and briskly walk to the kitchen, pour a glass of water, and bring it to Alicia. She puts her arms out for the water as I walk back towards her and hand her the cup. She finishes the glass and smiles when it’s down the hatch.

“Haha! How will I know when it kicks in?”

“Ali, remember when you licked Dylen’s finger? When it kicks in you’ll want to do more than just lick,” Liz smirks as she pulls out a smoke. Alicia coughs and giggles again.

“Uh, Liz-”

“What?” Liz replies, thumb flicking a lighter, her eyes aligned perfectly to stare at me down the fag’s body.