Soft Shock (10 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Halloween was
one of Marci’s favorite holidays. What wasn’t to like? It wasn’t a holiday that
required spending quality time with family, it involved partying and general debauchery,
and it involved dressing up. Marci had been happily getting ready for the party
she, Tyler, and Ronnie were attending until Ronnie dropped the bomb.
Ronnie—purposefully, no doubt—informed Marci at the last minute
that Jeremy would be coming with them.

So, the four of
them walked into the party at Tyler’s co-worker’s house that night. For a day
job, Tyler was a dietician at a gym, and the host of the party was a personal
trainer at that gym. Marci dressed as a sexy nurse, Ronnie was a Jersey Shore
girl—Marci had never watched the show and had no clue which one Ronnie
was even though Ronnie had told her twice because Marci let the information go
in one ear and out the other. All Marci knew was that Ronnie had on a wig of
long black hair that was loosely curled, her eyelashes and eye makeup were out
of control, and she’d gone a little overboard on the spray tan. Tyler dressed
in drag as Lady Gaga, and Jeremy dressed as a guido to Ronnie’s Jersey Shore
girl. Jeremy had died his sandy blond hair black and dumped a about a ton of
gel into it. His green eyes were hidden behind a pair of shades. They kept
insisting they weren’t a couple, but here they were doing couples Halloween
outfits.

Ronnie said she
had no interest in Jeremy—that he was just a “sweet kid.” Yeah, okay. A
“sweet kid” who drank like a fish and had a nasty little aversion to gainful
employment. Ronnie insisted Marci would like him if she got to know him better.
Marci both doubted that was true and had no desire to get to know him better. She
had no respect for people who refused to take responsibility for
themselves
. That was one of the few good traits she’d
inherited from Glenda King.

Marci knew she
was too old to be participating in case races, but Tyler talked her into it.
She and Tyler were on one team, and Ronnie and Jeremy ended up on the other.
Between the two teams was a table that held two cases of beer, one for each
side. The winning team would be the one to finish their case of beer first. And
they were playing five against four. That was way-too-many-beers per person for
Marci who was not a fan.

“This is going
to be a disaster,” Marci muttered to Tyler.

“God forbid you
actually enjoy yourself, Marci.” Tyler put a hand over his chest and sucked in
a noisy gasp of feigned surprise. “C’mon. Halloween’s your favorite.”

“Look at him,”
Marci murmured, nodding subtly across the table in Jeremy’s direction. “He’s
already halfway to oblivion.”

“He’ll be
fine,” Tyler said. “If we lose because of you, however, you won’t. We’re
already a man down.” Their team had one less player than the other team. “Now get
ready. We’re about to start.”

“I hate beer.”

“I love you for
being such a good sport.”

Marci laughed
and eyed the can of natty light in front of her. Somebody counted them down.
Tyler popped the top on a beer and held it up. Marci popped one and clanked her
can against Tyler’s. Making a final grimace, she chugged so that she could get
the beer taste over with.

Much later that
night, Tyler and Marci danced near Ronnie and Jeremy. It looked at first glance
like Ronnie was grinding on Jeremy. When you looked closer, you realized that
it was more like Ronnie was trying to hold up a nearly unconscious Jeremy. He
could barely keep his eyes open halfway, but he still held a plastic, black
Solo cup firmly fastened in his fist.

“What’s that
kid’s deal?” Marci asked, glowering at Jeremy.

“He’s just
young.” Tyler shrugged. “He’s a good guy. Give him a chance—a few
years—and he’ll figure it all out.”

“Sometimes, I
think you and Ronnie are too optimistic,” Marci said.

“And often,
dear, I think you are not optimistic enough.” Tyler spun her out and then spun
her in close. “Loosen up. I can’t remember seeing a drink in your hand
recently.”

“Somebody has
to drive us home.” Marci hadn’t drunk since the case race. And she hadn’t been
the greatest help to her team. After the third beer, there was no way she could
choke down even one more sip of beer. She’d spent the rest of the competition
cheering on her team. Despite her meager contribution, they’d won. Jeremy had
given them some real competition, though. The rest of his team—Ronnie
included—hadn’t been much help to him.

“We could take
a cab.” Tyler frowned. “I hate seeing you in this little funk. You always so
look forward to Halloween.”

“I didn’t know
Ronnie’s little moocher-friend was coming along.”

“Don’t try to
blame it all on Jeremy. You’ve been in a foul mood lately in general.”

“You and Ronnie
been talking? ‘Cause you sound just
like
her.”

“Anybody with
half an eye can see you have been rank in attitude lately.” Tyler fluffed his
outrageous blonde wig and readjusted the top on his faux meat dress. “I hate to
see you so unhappy.”

“I’m sorry.
It’s just—school. It should get better soon. In a few weeks when things will
slow down a little.”

“I hope so.”

“What are your
Thanksgiving plans?” Marci asked.

“Not sure yet.
Why?” Tyler asked.

“I was thinking
maybe a group of us could go out to the condo in Aspen. Or out to Lake Tahoe.”

“We wouldn’t be
trying to avoid our new daddy, would we?”

“Gross, don’t call
him that.”

Tyler snickered
in response.

“That man is
young enough to be my brother.
And to your question, kind of.
Maybe.”

Tyler laughed,
but before he could reply, there was a crash and a scream. The music stopped,
and Marci looked over in time to see Jeremy slump from the makeshift D.J. table
in the front of the living room to the floor. Computer equipment scattered all
over the place, and the D.J. did not look happy at all. Ronnie bent over Jeremy
and screamed at everyone to give him some room.

Marci ran over,
trailed by Tyler. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,”
Ronnie said shrilly. She bent over Jeremy and slapped his cheek several times,
but he didn’t respond.

“Everybody
stand back,” Marci said. “Give him some room.” She and Tyler got the crowd to
take a few steps back, widening the circle around Ronnie and Jeremy. “Turn him
on his side so if he vomits he won’t swallow it,” Marci told Ronnie. Pulling
her cell phone from her clutch, Marci dialed 911.

#

At the
hospital, they must have been a sight. Marci in a white mini dress and the very
cute white heels she’d use Halloween as an excuse to purchase with a white
nurse’s cap perched on top of her head, Ronnie in a tight, low-cut tank top and
black miniskirt, and Tyler in his dress made of plastic meat. Marci and Tyler
sat in the E.R. waiting room while Ronnie paced in front of them, refusing to
be comforted or held in one spot or even to carry on a conversation with
anybody but herself.

“I told him to
slow down, to pace himself, but he just kept pounding beers. And then he
started in on the shots. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion I
swear. There was nothing I could do to stop him. There was nothing, right?”
Ronnie looked up in Marci’s direction.

Marci started
to respond, but before she could, Ronnie was back to pacing and blaming
herself. Marci stood and tried to put an arm around Ronnie. Ronnie backed away
and shook her head. “This is my fault. I can’t stay here. I
gotta
see him. I
gotta
try again. I gotta do something.”
Ronnie went toward the nurse’s station yet again even though she was courting
disappointment. They’d turn her away the way they had several times already
because she wasn’t family or in any other way approved to know medical
information about Jeremy.

Marci was about
to follow her when the last person she expected to see hobbled through the
sliding doors at the rear entrance of the emergency room on one crutch. He was
dressed as a pirate, and the black guy she’d seen with him at The Hops stood
just behind him dressed as Morpheus from The Matrix.

“Owen?” Marci
murmured, confused. Owen didn’t notice her at all. He made a beeline for the nurse’s
station. Marci moved closer, intending to try and calm Ronnie down when the
nurse refused her request again. Owen reached the desk at the same time as she
did but didn’t notice her.

“My brother’s
here.” Owen ran his fingers through wavy hair he’d dyed or otherwise colored
black. A streak of black—from whatever was in his hair probably—ran
down the side of his face. “Jeremy Matthis. Where is he? Is he okay?” Owen
proceeded to fire a battery of questions at the nurse behind the desk.

Marci stared at
the back of Owen’s head, sort of stunned at all she’d just learned, as the
nurse said something to Owen. An orderly came from behind the desk and led Owen
down the hall and away from her.

The black guy
dressed as Morpheus turned to Marci. “Marci, right?” He was a pretty good
Morpheus except for the addition of his black-framed glasses and the fact that
he was smaller in stature than Laurence Fishburne.

“Yeah,” Marci
said slowly, not quite sure how the guy knew her.

“Oh. Sorry. I’m
not a stalker. I promise. Owen talks about you so much that I feel like I know
you. I’m Dante. His roommate.” Dante held out a hand.

Marci knew
there
were
other things she should take away from that
sentence, but the only thing she could take away was that Owen talked about her
a lot. She didn’t want that to matter to her, to send a feeling of relief from
the top of her spine to the tip of her toes, but it did and it did. Marci shook
his hand and gave Morpheus-Dante a shaky smile. “Nice to meet you, Dante.” She
then busied herself with introducing Dante to Ronnie and Tyler while trying to beat
back the thought that kept flashing through her mind like the beacon of a
lighthouse cutting through the darkness of a bay on a moonless night:
Owen talks about me. A lot.

When Owen
emerged from the back of the E.R., Dante waved him over to where their group
sat. Marci’s traitorous heart banged around in her chest as Owen limped over
and took the seat next to hers. She hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of a
crush in a very long time. She had to admit, the adrenaline-anxiety rush of
this feeling was kind of pleasant. She ignored the nagging voice at the back of
her mind that insisted she wasn’t allowing anything. That voice tried to tell
her she wasn’t letting this happen, that this was happening whether she liked
it or not.

“How is he?”
Dante asked.

Owen put a hand
on his forehead and rubbed his index finger and thumb out to his temples before
drawing them back and pinching them together in the middle of his forehead.
“They pumped his stomach. They’re giving him fluids now. He’s going to be fine.”
Owen took a deep breath before muttering in a barely audible tone the others
might not have caught, “Idiot.” Marci was pretty sure she’d only heard it
because she was sitting so close to him.
So close.

“I’m going to
get us coffee.” Dante stood and patted Owen’s shoulder.

“We’ll go with
you.” Ronnie-Jersey-Shore and Tyler-Gaga jumped up simultaneously. Marci gave
them warning looks, and they shot meaningful ones back at her.

“Okay,” Dante
said, seeming startled at their enthusiasm over a coffee run—and rightly
so. He didn’t know her meddling friends like she did. After the three of them
walked away, Owen looked over at Marci and gave her a tired smile. Even though
he was clearly exhausted, a shadow of stubble was creeping over his face, and
he had a few more smudges of black paint on his face now, he was still
gorgeous.

“So Jeremy’s
your brother?” Marci asked.
Of course.
Jeremy was a
spendthrift mooching loser, but that didn’t take away from his attractiveness.
In fact, it probably made those other things easier for him. Were there no bad
genes in the entire family? No homely Matthis brothers? Were their parents both
supermodels?

Owen nodded and
sat back in his chair. Steepling his fingers together, he stared across the
waiting room.

“Jeremy
mentioned having a brother, but I didn’t know it was you.” Now that she thought
about it, there was a resemblance. Jeremy’s hair was shorter and lighter, and
his eyes were green, but he and Owen had the same ski slope nose—Jeremy’s
was slightly crooked, though, and he had no doubt broken his at some point in
life. Both faces possessed chiseled jaws, strong cheekbones, and otherwise
classically good looks.

“Yeah, he talks
about your friend, Ronnie, all the time, but this is the first I’ve ever met
her—well, sort of met her I guess. Things have been kind of hectic
tonight.” He laughed mirthlessly. “She’s the one dressed as Snooki, right?”

“Snooki?” Marci
asked, narrowing her eyes in confusion.

“Jersey Shore?”

“Oh yeah.
That’s the one.” Marci nodded.

“Jeremy said
that’d be her costume when I talked to him earlier tonight, so I figured. I saw
her with you that night at The Hops, but I didn’t know who she was back
then—I’d only ever heard of her through Jeremy. He never mentions you,
though.”

“I guess I
usually try not to be around when he is,” Marci said with a sheepish smile.

Owen nodded
slowly. “My brother can be trying. On the patience.”

Marci felt bad
considering all that’d happened that night. “I didn’t mean. All I meant
was—” She had no idea what the right thing to say would be in this
situation. Finally, she just gave up and said the only thing she could think of
that fit as best as anything she could come up with would. “I’m sorry. About
what happened tonight.”