Step Four: Take A Break
Anxiously, I clicked my heels together underneath the table. I was sitting next to Vivianne at this dinner party she'd invited me too. It'd been thrown by the mayor down at some ritzy banquet hall. We were sitting at a table with a bunch of adolescent billionaires.
"This food is almost as good as what they served at the Irvine charity dinner last month," Vivianne mused before taking a dainty bite of some kind of fancy chicken.
"It's all gross," Ashton complained, throwing his fork down with a huff, from where he was seated across from us.
His date, the award winning actress, Indigo Weathers, laughed while Vivianne just rolled her eyes.
"You have the appetite of a five year old," she scoffed, "You'd be perfectly happy living off of chicken fingers and juicy juice the rest of your life."
"For your information, I have broadened my horizons," he told her, "Instead of juicy juice, I have graduated to chocolate milk."
"You have such refined taste," mocked Katherine Heights, the young romance novelist to his left.
"Very refined," he agreed.
"So I'm guessing you don't want to try the caviar?" Indgio asked.
"Nope," he said, popping his lips on the p.
"What about the mashed rutabaga?" she suggested.
"That's a vegetable right?" he said, "So I'm going to have to say no."
"It's actually not half bad," said Vince Carver, the heir to the Carver pharmaceutical fortune.
"I'm sorry," I said all of a sudden, standing up abruptly, "I have to go."
"Leaving in the middle of dinner? Where are your manners Ms. Winters?" Ashton teased, accusingly lifting his champagne class at me. It was his fourth.
"Ignore him," Vivianne said with a dismissive wave, "He's drunk."
I did exactly that. "Anyway, like I was saying, I have a prior commitment. Sorry"
"Oh, well that's too bad," Vivianne said, "I guess I'll see you on Monday."
"Right, see you then," I agreed, "Bye everyone."
They all said their farewells and I hastily exited the building. I stepped outside onto the busy, dark New York streets. Cars zoomed past, considering the surprisingly low amount of track in this area at the hour.
I stepped onto the edge of the curb, balancing on my heels, and flagged a taxi down as easily as whistling and raising one arm. One immediately stopped in front of me. I'd expected as much, seeing as I was coming out of the mayor's party dressed in an evening gown. The driver probably assumed I had money and was going far.
I slid into the back, cautious of my dress.
"SoHo," I commanded, pulling some bills out of my purse and flinging them into the front seat.
"You overpayed," he said after he counted out the bills. He handed a twenty back to me.
A honest cab driver, hmmm . . . Unexpected. "Keep it," I said. It wasn't my money anyway. Besides, he probably needed it more then me.
"Thanks miss," he mumbled, "Where to in SoHo? Restaurant? Shop? What?"
"No. Just the residential area," I said, understanding his surprise.
"Oh okay," he mumbled, not asking anymore questions. I appreciated it. I really didn't want to have to explain why a girl who appeared to be a wealthy socialite wanted a ride to the SoHo residential area. SoHo wasn't a bad neighborhood anymore but it was more valued for it's touristy area. The residential area was usually reserved for artists living in lofts.
I gave him directions to my apartment building and he got there easily.
"Thanks," I said, getting out of the cab.
"You're welcome miss," he said, "Have a nice night."
"You too," I mumbled, closing the door behind me.
He drove away and I turned into my apartment building. There was no buzzing in and no doorman. The door wasn't even locked. The lobby looked more like a lounge, full of mismatching furniture and decoratively painted walls. A few of my neighbors were relaxing down here at the moment, sipping coffee from the Starbucks down the street.
"What a beautiful dress Mary. Did you go somewhere fancy tonight?" asked my neighbor, Violet. She appeared to be in her early thirties with blue streaks in her dark hair. She was a beautician who worked a few blocks away.
"Oh yeah. I went to a dinner party with some friends from my new school," I said.
"I hardly recognize you anymore since you started going to that school," commented Tony, a twenty-something year old tattoo artist.
"I know. Dress codes suck," I agreed, "But it's a really great school."
"Only the best for our Maribelle," Jackie teased. She was a sculptor and lived across the hall from me.
I laughed. "Yeah well I just came home to change before I go to another party in the Lower East Side." After a week at Haven Acadmey, I deserved some time to be the real me.
"Now that's the Mary I know," Tony said.
The others laughed and I couldn't help but join in.
"Yeah well I'll see you guys around," I said, heading for the stairs.
They called goodbyes and then started cracking up over something seconds later. I smiled to myself and shook my head. I ventured up three staircases to my floor. There were only four apartments on the whole floor. All lofts.
I grabbed my key out of my purse and unlocked the door to my apartment. We had a decent loft. The downstairs was all one big room. It was mostly a living room but it also blended in with our kitchen. We didn't have a dining room; we ate at the island. The first floor was very spacious. Hard wood floors and big, huge windows on the side opposite the door. We had some bright orange couches around the TV, and multicolored bean bag chairs clustered in one area.
If you looked up, you'd see the second floor with a railing to keep people from falling off. There was a spiral staircase in the corner that led up there. The second floor was just one long hall where all the bedrooms were.
Getting a water bottle out of the fridge was my little sister Cynthia. She was a freshman and had just turned fifteen. She was dressed in her usual assortment of original designs that consisted of a multitude of very bright colors. Her skinny jeans had holes in them with neon fishnets underneath. Her black boots reached up to her knee and had paint splattered on them; which she had done herself. Her white t-shirt had red splatters on it that looked like blood; I knew that she did that herself too. Her shoulder length blonde hair had the bottoms dyed pink.
"Going out?" I assumed.
"Yep. Band Slam sorta thing goin' on," she told me, "Some kids I know are gonna be in it. How was your dinner party thing?"
"Good. Now I'm heading out to a party in the Lower East Side," I said.
"Double life gettin' hectic?" she asked. Cynthia was one of the few people who knew about my job working for the FBI.
"Nope. I can handle it. So where's Randy?" I asked. Randy was my little brother and Cynthia's twin.
"Upstairs. With a girl," she told me. "Proceed with caution."
"Thanks for the heads up," I said, "And behave yourself."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she muttered dismissively as she walked past me and out the door.
I went upstairs and passed Randy's room, cringing at the moaning coming from the other side. I silently thanked Cynthia again for the warning. Normally, I would use my ghost walking powers to check on him, but since I knew what was going on, I knew not too.
You see, I've always had this ability. For as long as I can remember. I like to call it ghost walking. I can force my spirit to leave my body and then it can move freely without the restraints of my physical body. When I'm in my spirit form, I can walk through walls and go just about anywhere, like a ghost. But also like a ghost, I can't touch anything.
"Randy, Randy stop it!" squealed a giggly girl from the other side of my brother's door. I shuddered.
"Mmmmm . . . You smell so good," my little brother purred. I gagged.
I pounded my fist on the door once. "Give it a rest Randy," I called.
"Go away," he called back.
"Fine. I just thought you should know that mom's coming home early," I told him.
I grinned to myself at the sounds of scrambling on the other side of the door. I could hear Randy whisper something to his little friend and then the door flew open.
Randy was almost two years younger then me but he was already my height, even with my heels on. He came out wearing only his boxers and a white wife-beater tank top. His blonde hair was all ruffled, his cheeks were flushed, and his blue eyes were narrowed at me.
"You're bluffing," he accused.
"Am I?" I challenged.
"Mom said she wasn't going to be back until midnight."
"Are you sure?" I teased.
"You're just screwing with me and I'm not falling for it," he snapped temperamentally and slammed his door in my face.
"Fine . . . But remember that I warned you," I sung as I walked away.
He was right. I was totally just screwing with him.
I went into my bedroom and locked the door behind me. I stepped out of my black cocktail dress and put on a pair of baggy black cargo pants and a neon blue half t-shirt. I ditched the heels and replaced them with my skater sneakers. I took my blonde hair out of the fancy updo and let the loose curls cascade past my shoulders. I took off all my expensive jewelry and put in my belly button ring, my six cartilage earrings, and my snake bite lip rings. Then I put on my favorite black and blue striped beanie and I was ready to go.
I left the loft and went back down to the lobby. When I got there I found my best friend PJ, talking with my neighbors. She was dressed as per her usual; grey skinny jeans and a black tank top with chains around her neck, converse on her feet, and leather cuffs around her wrists. The sideswept bangs of her dyed black hair were blood red and she had a ring in her eyebrow.
"Belle!" she exclaimed when she saw me, running over to me and hugging me painfully tight. "I missed you so much!"
"You're going to miss me even more if I die of suffocation from this super tight hug," I gasped out.
She released me. "It would serve you right for leaving me for some preppy school," she pointed out.
"PJ, you know I had to," I said, pitching my voice lower. PJ also knew about my FBI job.
"I know," she grumbled, "But that doesn't mean I'm happy about it."
"Neither am I," I said, "But once I finish the . . . assignment I'll come back."
"And how long will that be?" she whined.
"Could be next week. Could be next month. Could be next fall," I sighed, "I don't know yet. But I think I'm making good progress."
"Well whatever. Let's just not worry about boring high society shit and just go par-tay," she cheered, doing a little dance move.
"You sound so retarded when you say that," I informed her, shoving her shoulder as I passed.
"Like I give a fuck," she said, catching up to me.
"Maybe you should start giving a fuck," I suggested, waving goodbye to my neighbors as we left the building.
"Don't turn all snobby on me now," she warned as we began our walk to the Lower East Side.
"Does that sound like me?"
"No but I have to be careful. You know those rich types are contagious," she said.
"Sure they are PJ," I mumbled, being sarcastically patronizing.
"So how are they exactly? The rich kids I mean," she wondered.
"Eh. They're okay," I said with a shrug, "As long as they think you're one of them."
"What about Vivianne and Ashton?" she asked.
"Vivianne's actually pretty nice. Shallow but not bad," I said honestly.
"And Ashton?"
"Super hot and funny but he's such a spoiled party boy," I told her.
We went on like that for the remainder of the walk. I told her what it was like pretending to be rich and going to all the fancy New York hot spots. And she told me how things were going at school and how all my normal friends were.
We arrived at a run down brick apartment building a while later, and went up to our friend Vince's apartment. It was obvious that there was a party going on here; there was loud music coming from inside. I assumed that the neighbors would complain if they thought it would do any good.
Someone let us in and when I got inside, it was apparent that Vince's parents were truly away for the weekend. It was dark and the apartment was packed with teenage bodies. We immediately pushed past people to get to Vince's little kitchen. There were kids in their too, drinking the beers that were layed out on the counter.
"Hey Mary!" exclaimed Vince, who was drinking a beer with a group of friends all of whom I recognized.
"Hey," I said. The walls around the kitchen made it possible to have a conversation at a semi reasonable volume. Not having to exactly shout over the music.
"It's been so boring without you around," he complained, handing me and PJ beers.
"Yeah. I can't believe you're going to some stupid private school," Zach chimed in.
"I know but my parents forced me. I'll bitch at them to let me transfer back for senior year," I told them, using the edge of the counter to pry the cap off of my beer. I did the same for PJ.
"Good," Vince said, "Chem is such a drag without you there driving Parker crazy."
"Well the old bag doesn't know how to teach," I said with a shrug, taking a swig from my beer.
"True, true," Zach said, "So you gonna play beer pong with us or what?"
"In a minute," I said, taking another drink. "I wanna dance first. C'mon PJ." I loved to dance and I hadn't the chance in weeks. Getting ready for my assignment left no room for partying.
PJ was chugging half her beer but stopped and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand when she saw me looking at her. "Sure thing."
We left the kitchen and went back into the main room to dance. "We R Who We R" by Kesha was playing, which was a decent dancing song. We finished off our beers as fast as we could and then disposed of the empty bottles. We began to dance, mostly with each other because that was the most fun. But we also periodically danced with guys who were up for the challenge.
I was having an amazing time. It felt so good to be back in my true scene. It felt great to be myself. With my real clothes, and piercings, and beanies. I was having an awesome time showing off my dancing skills with PJ, getting drunk, and hanging out with my real friends.
It was great to nearly die of laughter every five seconds. It was great to beat everybody at beer pong. It was great to be able to curse my head off and make sexual jokes without worrying about being judged. Everything about it was perfect. Perfect for me. But I knew it couldn't last. Sooner or later, I'd have to go back to being someone I wasn't.
Which, by the way, totally sucked sometimes.
