That Night
Alice is dying to live.
Alice knows a change is coming, just not tonight.
At twenty-two, Alice Helm is beginning to see her life take shape. She’s crawling her way through general ed classes at Lewis College, a two-year journey now approaching year four; but it’s like her dad used to tell her, “The journey is what makes the dream come true.” It’s never been her dream to get into social work, though. She took a test that gave her suggestions for careers, and a sociology degree seemed like an easy path to independence.
She needed to move out of her mom’s house years ago.
Work is fine. The smoke shop serves a variety of clientele, but everyone has been cool. She makes good money there, and she gets a good hook up. Her mom won’t shut up about how embarrassing it is that her daughter sells crack pipes to addicts, just one of the reasons Alice has needed to get away from that disaster.
Alice’s love life is a bit messy, but she knows a change is coming. It feels like it’s going to happen soon, but it won’t be tonight. Not here at Espagio’s fine Italian dining by day, pulsating dance club by night. Not right now in the bathroom during her powder break, and probably not tomorrow when she’s arguing with her mom about something that happened years ago. Soon, though, that change is going to come. Before that, though, Alice has to run through a few more songs on the dance floor and perhaps, if she plays her cards right, a few more men in the city.
She cuts two fat rails of cocaine on the marble countertop with complete indifference to the rest of the ladies around her and plows full steam ahead. She feels the deep bass of the music pump in her blood, throws the mirror a fierce look, and declares that, “It’s time to fuck this night hard.”
Alice spends the next couple of hours, fueled by alcohol and cocaine, partying like she doesn’t have shit to do the next day. Espagio’s dance floor never stood a chance. Alice dances with anyone who swirls into her orbit. She tips back shots like ice water. She snorts through the eight-ball she snuck in. She continues her mid-week ritual as if it’s the first time every time.
Life is good right now.
The night winds down, but Alice is still wound up. She leaves the club with Scott, an on-again off-again fling she met through work. She spotted him earlier in the evening but didn’t cop to it then because she knew she could circle back around later if there weren’t any better options out on the dance floor.
They say goodbye to the group they’re with and head out to Scott’s car. Her friend, Gia, yells at her from across Espagio’s parking lot as she walks away with Scott. “Air drop your location, so I can keep track of you.”
“You think he’s up to no good,” Alice asks her friend. Gia acts like Alice should already know better.
“Girl, he’s been stringing you along for a minute. My guess is that he’s waiting for the right moment to kill and dismember you.”
Scott hears everything, and he’s thrown off by the accusation, exaggerating his shock. “Kill and dismember? Gia, I would obviously want to wear her skin like a dress. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”
Alice laughs, blows Scott a kiss, and mouths “thanks, babe,” at him. Gia rolls her eyes and walks away.
In Scott’s car, they lay out a plan for the rest of their evening together. “Do you want to grab something to eat? We’ve got options out here.”
Alice shook her head. “I’m not hungry. I just want to keep the party going.”
Scott knew his next move. “I’ve got more booze and some weed at my place. Let’s go there.”
“Cool.” It’s what Alice was hoping to hear.
Fifteen minutes and two freeways later, Alice is sitting on the couch in the living room of Scott’s suburban getaway; a two-story man-castle spawned from one of the cookie-cutter developers that laid track homes all over the San Fernando Valley. Two-shots and half a blunt later, she’s lying naked on that couch with both of her legs spread wide in a capital “V”. Scott is bearing down on her like a hurricane. A few minutes after that, she’s bent over the side of the couch, and Scott is shooting his load on her ass cheeks.
They clean up, finish the blunt, have a night cap, and pass out in Scott’s bedroom.
Life is good, right?
