Belle of the Boulevard

Chapter Two.
“I cannot freaking believe this!” Elle shouts, smacking her palm against the hood of the now smoking Jeep. “Why is it broken?” She slammed her hand to emphasize each word. “I don’t know SHIT about cars! I cant fix this! Can you fix this?” she ranted glancing at me, her green eyes wild with panic.

I shrugged apologetically. Not even 12 hours into our trip and we were already screwed. I hung my head in shame, studying the gravel of the road, shaking my head.
In case you haven’t already caught on, our expedition to Canada was not going to be chaperoned by Elle’s grandma, Peggy, like I insisted to my mother. In fact, we were not going to be chaperoned at all. We were going to Peggy’s house, in Churchill Falls, but Peggy was on a 6-month cruise to Europe, a retirement gift to herself, and we were house sitting for her on the promise that when she returned, the house looked exactly as it had before. If it failed to meet her criteria, we were busted.

Now Elle sat slumped to the ground, her hands splayed across her face. I stooped down to join her.
“Well…we could…call my mom?” I suggested, not really meaning it as I gazed at our surroundings, searching for any signs of human life at all. But we were the only people I’d seen on this road for hours and hours. To make matters worse, dusk was quickly fading into night and the deep forest-lined road did not look like it held very friendly creatures.

“Are you on crack? Calling your mom is the very last fucking we would do right now.” She whipped her head around to glare at me.

I threw up my hands, “Ok, ok. Sorry stupid idea.”

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes, listening to the chirp of the crickets, and the flapping wings of the birds. Suddenly Elle stood up, brushing dirt off of her shorts.

“Ok, maybe we can fix this! I mean how hard can it be? If that idiot Ernie Hardman can fix cars, than certainly we can too.”
“Elle, Ernie’s dad is a mechanic. C’mon face it, we’re shit out of luck.” I said craning my neck to look at her from where I sat.
Her face fell, casting a shadow over her sculpted cheekbones. Elle was gorgeous, and I envied her high cheekbones, and clear freckle-free complexion. Even though she more than exceeded the criteria for a model: Super amazon height; Check. Super long luscious locks; Check. No body fat to speak of; Check, check, she refused to even consider going after that path always proclaiming: “Are you kidding me? I would kill those skinny bitches! They wouldn’t survive a week with me!”
“What? Why are you staring at me like that you freak?” She joked, coming to sit back down beside me.
I shook my head, not realizing I’d spaced out. “Don’t flatter yourself, whore” I replied, playfully jabbing her stomach my elbow.
Night was really falling fast now, the stars were popping out all over the dark indigo sky, and the crescent moon was high in the sky. I could scarcely make out the end of the road. Just as I was about to suggest sleeping in the car, my prayers were answered.

A huge gray pickup truck came rumbling around the bend of the road toward us. We both shot up and started waving and jumping excitedly.
I almost thought the truck was not going to stop, for it appeared to be going too fast, but the truck came to a screeching halt in front of us, blaring some old country music song about tractors, and I could make out three guys sitting in the front. The driver turned off the engine and got out the car. Or rather he glided out of the car. He was fairly young, maybe a year or two older than us, with wavy red-gold hair, a plaid shirt, and on his feet were the super trendy, sneakers that Elle has had her eye on for weeks. He wore them with an incredible amount of confidence, with a “Hey,-I’m-obviously-better-than-you attitude. Elle elbowed my subtly in the ribs. Which was her way of saying “Dibs, he’s cute.”

I rolled my eyes. This joker was hardly my type. Already I could tell he was an incredibly cocky dickwad, by the way he eyed Elle, and winked. Yuck.

“Hello ladies” Plaid Shirt said coming to a stop in front of us.
“Hi” Elle drawled, while I just looked at him
“Why are two beautiful ladies, such as yourself, out here in the dark alone?”
“Oh, we got stuck, our car broke down. And we don’t know how to fix it” Elle giggled (giggled!) and stepped a little closer to him. “We don’t have a man to come and make it all better for us” She widened her eyes innocently, playing the damsel in the distress.

“Well you do now” Plaid Shirt said practically salivating, perfectly willing to be cast as her knight in shinning armor.
The other two guys in the car took this opportunity to get out and join Plaid Shirt, obviously deciding that we were not in fact killers.

The first guy was tall. Not like NBA tall, but giraffe tall. He loomed a good foot and a half over my head, which is not saying much, as I’m 5-foot nothing, but still. This guy made Shaq look like a Keebler Elf. He, besides being tall, had swoopy dark blond hair, but the color of his eyes were a mystery, as he was way too high up for me to tell. He wore a navy blue zip up Abercrombie hoodie that looked like it had been custom made for The Hulk.

The other guy was fairly normal looking. In fact, he was TOO normal looking. He was an average height, average weight, averagely brown hair, average clothes. The only unusual thing about him was the fact that he was wearing honest-to-god- cowboy boots. The brown leather kind with spurs. SPURS. And we were no where NEAR the south. I had to look away and stifle a laugh before I made a rude outburst.
“Hey guys!” Plaid Shirt broke away from his nauseatingly gooey stare off with Elle to give each of the guys a slap on the back. Plaid Shirt came up roughly to Tall’s shoulder, so therefore he just patted what he could reach. “This is Andrew, and Brian (See! Average name too!). And this is Elle; cue the exchange of goofy grins, and-” He turned to look at me, his goofy grin suddenly fading from his handsome features. He looked at me blankly, and I realized he didn’t know my name.

“OH- oh, I’m Aimsley.” I stuttered, feeling like a mute.
“And this is Amy” he incorrectly stated. Idiot.
The other Andrew and Average looked at me blankly. I turned my head, pretending to be interested in something in the forest, not wanting to see their awkward stares.

“So, we were on our way to this party, do you want to come” Plaid Shirt was saying or rather cooing to Elle. She looked at him, the “yes” perched on her lips, ready to go, when I quickly interjected with “No!”
Everyone stared at me, whoops, I didn’t mean to shout.
“I mean, no thanks. We have to get to Canada.” I clarified. “Wait, where are we exactly?”
“Oakland, Michigan!” Average quipped, whooping. Great, we had succeeded making it one state away from where we started.

“Aimsley, we can so go to their party. We’ll stay an hour, two hours tops.” She then saw my unconvinced face, because Elle has never in her life stayed true to that frequent promise.

What actually happens is this; She says that, swears she wont leave me alone like last time,(and the time before that, and the time before that) and when we actually get to the party she does exactly that. The first step in this processes is to pick one guy from the swarm of overly hormonal boys that had without a doubt seen her enter the room, and left the friends (sometimes girlfriends) they came with, to go offer her a drink. Now Elle has a very scattered taste in men, and I’d long since given up betting who she would choose, which alas is my only source of entertainment. But you just never know with Elle.

Sometimes the choice is obvious: so good looking its practically a sin. Other times, it’s the sort cute Average Joe, who plays soccer. Or the beautiful, modelesque emo boy, who for weeks after that night, will send her bittersweet poems about their time together. Once in a blue moon, Elle will be bitchy and pick the super cute drummer with the nerdy-chic style, and gorgeous eyes just to be mean, knowing that I had my eye on him because she knows my type all too well. On those nights, I hate her for being so selfish.

But usually the guy is good looking, and well-built. She will then immediately capture the guy’s affections for her within the first five minutes of socializing while simultaneously getting more and more drunk. She has more than likely forgotten all about me at this point, in spite of her earlier promise, and about an hour into their, er- relationship if you will, which consists of lots of flirting, giggling, and heavy petting, will claim that she can’t hear in this noisy place (whether the room is noisy or not is irrelevant, this poor unsuspecting boy that she has captured is completely under her spell, and he will say, do, and believe everything she says even if totally and completely unreasonable under any circumstances) and that they should probably go someplace quieter where she can hear. So, at that point, Her Man-Candy will get excited, ahem, and lead (sometimes carry, she’s so drunk) to a “quieter” place, aka: the bedroom.

And that leaves me, sorry, sober, and alone, to sit somewhere and try not to look as miserable as I feel. Usually I’ll be stuck on the couch, or floor of the kitchen, with either some poor soul who, under the influence of some heavy alcohol wants a sympathetic ear to bitch out all their problems and feelings out. I play my role of Dr.Phil and just listen to them, mhming when necessary and twirling my drink of choice in hand while they slur on about how pathetic their lives are. They more often than not, whine until they pass out, or throw up. Whichever comes first. Or sometimes, some immensely hormonal geek will sidle over and try to put the moves on me, much to my dismay. I play my part and threaten to shove their Xbox controllers in places they could never imagine if they don’t remove their sweaty, groping paws off of me pleaseandthankyou. This goes on until Elle decides she’s done so we can finally leave.

Technically, I could leave, I always drive, since the both of us know no matter how many times Elle promises not to leave me alone, she always will. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Elle like she’s my sister, which she practically is. But on nights like these, I don’t exactly like her.

“Pleaaassee Aims? They can totally drop us off at a car dealership so we can get this piece of shit fixed.” she said coming over to try and convince me.
“Elle, I’m really not in the party mood right now” I sighed.
She gave me the puppy dog eyes.
“Ok, fine” I grouched, knowing she would never give up until she had her way, knowing full well her promises were irrelevant.
“Yay!” She squealed tossing her hands in her air, and hugging me. Plaid Shirts eyes zeroed in on the strip of stomach that was now exposed, and I rolled my eyes. “But wait is their gonna be enough room in your car” she asked her eyes wide.
“Sure” Plaid Shirt replied. “Amy can sit in Andrew’s lap, and you can sit in Brian’s. We were almost there anyway.”

They were NOT almost there. After hooking the Jeep to the back of their car, it was almost a half an hour until we arrived at the so called party. To make matters worse, Andrew was so obviously uncomfortable with me sitting in his lap that it made for an extremely awkward ride. I tried to touch him as only where necessary, crossing my arms in front of me, and slightly sticking out my legs. He stared out the passenger side window most of the time, his head wayyy leaned back against the headrest as though I smelled. I took a shower this morning thank you very much. Elle, on the other hand looked right at home in Average’s lap, and he didn’t seem too disappointed about these seating arrangements either. Plaid Shirt, however shared my obvious discomfort as his eyes flickered between Average’s hands, which were wrapped around Elle’s waist for “extra safety” and the road. The tighter Averages hands got, the faster Plaid Shirt drove, which I appreciated, because Andrew seemed to grow more statue-like with each passing minute. Obviously Plaid Shirt and Average needed to discuss boundaries of the Guy Code.

But we finally arrived (thank god) at an enormous farmhouse style house. It was hard to tell in the dark, but the family who lived here looked extremely loaded. I could hear Eminem bumping from the stereos inside as we stood on the lawn of the house down the street. Plaid Shirt couldn’t find a decent parking space in front of the house itself, so he settled for down the street.
Inside the house itself, the music was deafening. I couldn’t hear myself think. I don’t’ exaggerate when I say I could see the sound waves of Slim Shady’s booming bass swirl around me. Plaid Shirt tapped me on the shoulder and I turned and he said, well mouthed something to me.
“What?” I shouted.
He repeated himself, his words getting lost in the music and other voices around us.
‘So won’t the real Slim Shady please stand up, please stand up- ‘
He mimed drinking and pointed to Elle.
I nodded, and mimed drinking too.
Plaid Shirt nodded back ,and took Elle’s hand, and the crowded swallowed them as they struggled to make it through the crowd. Step one was already done for her, the lucky bitch.
I searched around the surprisingly sparsely furnished living room for a place to sit. Whoever was throwing this bash had been smart enough to remove all the expensive loveseats and chaises, and wrap the couches in what looked like Saran-Wrap. Finding a spot on the floor that wasn’t covered in forgotten beer filled red plastic cups, I took my seat and leaned my head against the wall.

All around me people were bumping and grinding explicitly to the rap song blaring from the surround sound. One particular couple was going at it so hard, if they weren’t careful, they’ red be some major exposure going on. I grimaced in disgust and went in search of another spot that wasn’t so quite vomit-inducing.

I weaved and bobbed my way down the hall to avoid running into various couples in various stages of undressing, a riotess game of beer pong, and a single drunken girl laying flat on her back in the middle of the hall. People all around me were just stepping over here, normal as can be. I nudged her to the side with my foot and kept moving until I reached the kitchen.
This kitchen looked fit for Betty Crocker. There were two refridgerators. TWO. It was also deserted so I hoisted myself on the counter. I was getting comfortable until I realized I had forgotten to grab a beer from the ice cooler beside the door. Damn.
The door opened and in came Average, with a girl. The girl was even shorter than me, if possible with super curly blonde hair and scary long eyelashes. She blinked at me a few times.
“Oh sorry” she trilled, “We thought this room was going to be empty.” Average just looked me and I noticed they were holding hands. He opened the ice cooler silently and handed her a beer.
I opened my mouth to tell him to toss me one, but suddenly discovered that I couldn’t remember his name. Not wanting to look like an idiot by calling him Average, I mumbled “Hey, hey-yeah, you. Could you grab me one too?” He looked at me for a long moment before reaching behind him again and walking over to hand it to me. He held my gaze for just a moment longer than necessary.
“Oh, Brian, Katy just texted me to tell me Jason broke up with her. I have to go comfort her, I’ll be right back” She called rushing from the room, her iPhone already dialing.
I wished she hadn’t left. Brians muteness was starting to creep me out and I hoped that he would leave with her. But he didn’t. Instead he completely surprised me by joining me on the counter. He took one look at my unopened beer, and twisted it open for me.
“Oh, uh, I didn’t need help with that. I can open a beer” I said a little defensively.
He chuckeld. “So, Amy right?”
“No, it’s Aimsley.”
“Ah, that’s a pretty name.” he drawled, taking a long drag from his own drink.
“Thanks”
“Pretty name for a pretty girl” he said looking sidways at me.
I raised an eyebrow. “Why are you talking to me?”
He laughed again. “My boy ran off with your girl, why are you in here by yourself?” he shot back.
“Same reason, except I have the pleasure of not knowing any of these people.” I retorted.
This made him laugh harder. He turned to smile at me.
“You’re cute when your annoyed.”
I recoiled. That’s so not what I’d been expecting to come out of his mouth.
“Then I must be adorable right now” I said smirking.
“Damn straight” He eyed my body.
I looked away, my cockiness gone, feeling self-conscious.
Brian slid off of the counter. “C’mere, let me show you a good time.” He held out his hand and I looked at it suspiciously.
“No funny business at ALL” I said.
“Of course not” was his reply.
He led me out back into the hall, where a new game was taking place. Introducing me all around to about twenty people, he started explaining the rules of the game. It had something to do with shots of tequila and the pool table behind them. I was fairly decent at pool so I agreed. There were two teams, and if you accidentally knocked your opponents ball into the holes, your entire team had to take a shot of tequila.
Me and Brian were on different teams, and my pre-appointed team captain, whom everyone called Shaggy, was already by the looks of it, on his way to being wasted.
But I played like a good spot, groaning with everyone else, when he missed a shot, (which was often) and cheering when he made it (once) and taking shot, after shot, after shot, when he knocked the solids into the holes. After Shaggy shot in the eight ball, and after my sixth shot. The floor started to sway under me. I ran over to Brian to tell him this, but I tripped on the way over falling to the floor. I giggled, because falling was soooo much fun. I was still laughing when Brian helped me up.
“I-I, the floor it- it’s spinning” I gasped, leaning into him for support. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and squeezed, making me laugh even harder because I’m ticklish there…
“How about we go sit somewhere a little quieter since your falling everywhere, he whispered in my ear, his hot breath tickling my ear, why was I so ticklish? I giggled as yes and we started off.
We stumbled down the stairs, and the air seemed to get cooler and cooler with each stair. I shivered and Brian held me even more tightly, before abandoning all hope entirely and scooping me up in his arms carrying me the rest of the way down. I shrieked with glee.
He finally deposited me on a threadbare couch in the middle of the room, then sat beside me, breathing hard.
“Why are we down here” I asked turning my head to look at him.
“I thought we could be alone down here” he said whispering in my ear. Although why he was whispering was a mystery to me, it wasn’t loud at all down here, in fact it was too quiet.
He put his arm on my shoulder, bringing me closer, and began caressing my thigh. I started to protested, but Brian silenced me with a kiss.
Average was anything but average when it came to making out. Not that I had much of anything to compare him by, but still. All my protests died on my, ahem, our lips. He pulled away and my head was spinning.
“Was that ok,” he asked nibbling on my bottom lip, making it hard to concentrate on his words, running his hands through my curly auburn hair. All I knew is that I wanted him to kiss me again, so I put my mouth over his, which he took as a yes, Oh yes.
He slowly lowered me on my back, and laid on top of me, kicking off his cowboy boots as he went. I followed his lead, chucking my Converse on the floor. He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it across the room, and resumed back to his lip-melting kisses. He slid his hands up my shirt and expertly unclasped my bra. I gasped, pulling away from him and grasping the front of my shirt. I shook my head, furiously and sat up, suddenly very sober. Average, however ignored my protest and began sucking on my neck.
“It’s ok” he said between kisses, “Trust me, you’ll like it” reluctantly coaxing me back on my back. I closed my eyes as his hands slid under my shirt again, feeling me up.
Just as I was getting used to it, I felt something hard formed on my thigh and I sincerely hoped that his pen had fallen out of his pocket or something. His breathing got heavy, and the door flew open behind us, banging the wall adjacent to it just as his hands started to stray down farther than I was comfortable with.
We both jumped away from each other and I there standing in front of us was the blonde from earlier. The one that had been holding Brian’s hand. Oops.
“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS” she shrieked, stomping her foot.
Brian, bless him, was trying to save face. He hastily threw his shirt on misbuttoning it horribly, and rebuckled his belt.
“WHO IS THIS BITCH, DID YOU ASK HER TO MEET YOU HERE? DID YOU-” she paused, her face turning from an angry pink to a murderous red as she recognized me from the kitchen. I curled into the corner of the couch, bracing myself for the punch that was sure to come.
“Baby, I’m sorry-” “I know your mad-” he tried to reason between her screaming rage. “WE WERENT EVEN OFFICIAL” he finally shouted.
This seemed to stop her in her tracks. She slapped him hard in the face and stormed up the stairs, calling back all kinds names, and promises to make me sorry.
Brian glanced back at me apologetically and loped up the stairs after.
I waited a few minutes and grabbed my bra, and followed him up the stairs, dialing Elle as I went.
Once upstairs I immediately ducked outside, and Elle picked up with an annoyed “What?”
“We need to leave now” I said, tucking my bra into my shoulder for warmth.
“Wha-Why now?” I heard the unmistakable sound of smacking lips, and the rustling of covers in the background. I resisted the urge to throw my phone at the brick wall in front of me.
“Look, I kinda screwed with another girls guy and got busted, I’ll tell you more later, lets just go” I snapped, my stomach lurching. I paced angrily in one spot.
“Ok, ok. Chill the fuck out. We’ll be there in like ten minutes” she said hanging up the phone before I could protest. Ten minutes? We’ll?? I thought I had made it clear not to bring Plaid Shirt, seeing as his friend got me into this mess. My stomach was really grumbling now and I doubled over. Oh no. This could not be happening now. I stumbled over to the bushes on the side of the house and tossed my biscuits. I glimpsed the stars before finally passing out on the wet and cold lawn.