Midnight Run

The pencil. The dreaded pencil.

Time remaining until pick up: 15 minutes.

I gnawed on my lip. Should I? No – I’ll be late again, like last time. No – I might stab myself in the eye and get another infection. No. No, I shouldn’t.

Huffing, I raised the little black pencil and began to apply it to my waterline, mumbling something along the lines of “fuck it”. Make up was never my strong point, but I persisted regardless.

It was the night of the party and four days since the incident. I hadn’t told anyone about it, nor had I been on one of my little midnight runs since. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, though; I couldn’t stop imaging all of the possibilities.

I finished applying the eyeliner and then, happy with how it went on for once, decided to leave my appearance at that. Applying a little perfume, I hopped out my seat and trotted over to my wardrobe, tugging out a pair of navy pumps.

“Ava, that’s Jem!”

I grabbed my bag and hurriedly shoved a few bits and pieces in before heading downstairs. My mum, dressed down in her sweatpants and dressing gown, awaited me by the door. I could feel her parental worry stirring already.

“Keys?” She inquired.

“Check.”

“Money?”

“$15.”

“Reputable cab company number?”

I held up my hand.

“I love you,” she finished gently, kissing my forehead. “Have fun.”

I thanked her, reciprocating the kiss, before heading outside. The air remained warm, not even the slightest hint of a breeze. I pulled my hair over one shoulder and then entered Jem’s car which, I noted internally, was considerably nicer than the strangers’. The stranger…

“Looking like shit,” Emma teased from the front seat. “Ready to get very freaking drunk?”

Drunk meant forgetting, and I had a few things I wanted to forget. “Of course.”

It wasn’t long before we were cruising through the neighbourhoods, chatting about this and that. Apparently, Jem’s mum had found her stash of condoms, and now she had to start going back to church.

“Bullshit,” she scoffed angrily.

“Yeah,” Emma agreed. “I mean, if Jesus was even real you’d already have slept with him.”

I laughed at the remark – it wasn’t far from the truth, really. Jem, as childish as she was, had the longest list of sexual partners going. It was worrying from a safety point of view, but you also couldn’t help but be a little impressed. It wasn’t even like she didn’t have standards, either.

“How about you, hm? You looking for some tonight?” I watched Jem’s reflection as she eyed me in her rear view mirror. “Come on, it’s been months since Darren.”

“He who shall not be named,” Emma said in a goofy voice.

Darren was an ex of mine, the most recent at that point. We, following a large argument and a small food fight (resulting in my banning from the local Olive Garden), had split up not long after the new year. The first few weeks were rough but, after that, I didn’t miss him, and the only thoughts of him I had were not in the least bit complimentary.

“Come on, even just a little making out.”

I laughed, maybe I will make out with someone tonight, but wasn’t really holding my breath. Anyway, I was happy just to be getting out.

Before long we were pulling up outside a large cream house, the faint sound of music and voices escaping over the garden fence. It was in a fairly secluded area, luckily, so the chances of it getting shut down were fairly low. We got out of the car and did a quick breath check before heading to the door. It too, like everything else in the vicinity, was large and expensive looking – a figure soon appeared on the other side of the stained glass.

The door swung open to reveal a fairly short guy with long, brown hair. He welcomed Emma into an embrace, saying the usual pleasantries before stepping back and introducing himself. Vic, he was called. Vic with the hair.

“This is Jem,” Emma announced, “and Ava. We brought chips.”

“We have plenty,” Vic chuckled, stepping aside to let us in, “but considering my brother’s here, I’m sure they’ll get eaten eventually, if you know what I mean.”

The interior of the house was much of the same: extravagant, luxurious, large. A beautiful chandelier hung from the ceiling, and large pieces of art decorated the walls. Vic led us through to the kitchen with offers of a drink and some food. Jem, spotting a bottle of vodka, soon departed, but I decided to head out back to where most of the guests had conjugated.

The hot San Diego sun was setting behind the house, leaving the party in low light. People were scattered around – some smoking, some drinking, some kissing, some laughing. I sat down on the edge of a deck chair and fiddled with my bracelet.

I don’t know how long I sat there for: maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour. The party moved on successfully, people growing increasingly merry as the contents of the fridge grew smaller. It seemed like having an empty cup, or no cup at all, was a crime.

I felt the deck chair dip below me and, without warning, fell back against something. I turned to find a drunk guy slouched behind me, giggling away to himself. He propped his beer can up on his chest and blew into it, laughing at the whistling sound which ensued.

“Da ra ra,” he hummed, blowing into it more rhythmically. I watched in something between amusement and annoyance as he carried on. “Da – ra ra!”

“Oh my god,” another voice joined in. “Hime, dude, come on. Up.”

I averted my eyes to face something I never thought I would again… the stranger. He obviously hadn’t even recognised me though, his gaze was purely on the drunk bottle-playing whistler to my back.

“Listen listen,” he hushed.

Before he could blow into the bottle once again, the stranger grabbed it off him. He hauled the boy off the deck chair and set him down on the ground, where he proceeded to sprawl out over the slabs.

“Hime, up!”

The drunk giggled once again, an innocent, gleeful smile on his face. “Moany Tony,” he huffed, still grinning broadly. “Moan-ay. Ton-ay. Hey-ay.”

“Hey, could you-“ The stranger paused once his eyes landed on me. “It’s… you?”

I tried to ignore the slightly rude tone he had adopted. “Could I what?”

The stranger paused, obviously taken aback. His eyes scanned over me, and then did so once again, his mouth falling slightly agape. After what seemed like years under his scrutiny, he shook his head slightly: “help me move him inside.”

I didn’t bother replying – if he wanted to act weird, then fine. I’d help him move the guy, but only out of concern for him, especially considering how far gone he was. We propped the spikey-haired guy up against the chair before, with a bit of struggle, hoisting him up onto his feet. Murmuring and giggling, he stumbled happily between us, oblivious as to how heavy he actually was.

Following the stranger’s orders, which he delivered entirely in a blunt tone, we made our way through the house and into a guestroom downstairs. I unhooked his arm from around my neck and placed him down on top of the cream damask sheets, watching as he kicked off his shoes and scurried up towards the headboard.

“Tone,” he sang teasingly.

“Get to sleep,” the stranger replied. He turned on a lamp and then gestured for me to follow him out.

Exiting the room, I shut the door behind me, more than ready to get away from the guy. Although our encounter the other night was brief, I still thought he seemed like a nice guy, but now I wasn’t so sure. What had I done to be treated like that? I hadn’t got his friend drunk.

I turned to walk away but was stopped when I felt his hand against my arm, pulling me back. I came face to face with him and raised my eyebrows expectantly. If he wanted to be cold, I could be cold too.

“I, uh,” scratching the back of his neck, he redirected his gaze to the ground. “Sorry for back out there,” he said sincerely. “I just got... I’m just a bit surprised.”

“That makes two of us.”

He nodded, words seeming to have escaped him. I watched as he shifted under my gaze. His demeanour changed back to the one I was more familiar with, and I soon felt more at ease. I broke the increasingly awkward silence by asking his name, even though I had a pretty good idea as to what it was, thanks to his blubbering friend.

“It’s Tony,” he smiled.

Notes

They meet again... I'm really excited to get into this story. Thanks again for reading - don't forget to let me know what you think!

Have a great day x