The Brink of Destruction

"Tre wants to have a Halloween party." Wynn had just gotten back from the laundry room and was putting away clothes in the dresser. "Mike was telling me about it this morning. It's all Tre can talk about, and it's driving Mike nuts."

"That actually doesn't sound like a bad idea to me," I said. "It's been a tough couple of
weeks, and I think a party would do us all a lot of good!"

"You're right," she agreed, "but when Tre does a party, he always wants it to be off the chart, and none of us has much money to put into it. He's awfully persuasive when he wants a good time, so we have to make sure he doesn't go overboard and bankrupt us."

"You mean the food and stuff?" I wasn't sure just how over the top she meant.

"Oh, no, my dear. He threw himself a birthday party last year and hired a stripper to pop out of a cake and give him a lap dance!" she laughed. "His need for attention knows no bounds!"

"Well, do you think we should just tell him we can't afford it and put an end to it now?" I didn't want to be cruel, but I was just as financially embarrassed as everyone else--maybe more so.

"Nah, I'd never be able to live with the sulking. We'll keep him busy with decorations and little things like that so he doesn't get all excited and try to make decisions. That's when it gets dangerous!" She slid the drawer shut and tossed her socks into the next one.

"Is the band going to play for this one, too?" I asked. After all, maybe they wished they could just go to a party for once without lugging all their equipment with them.

"Oh, God, yes. Any audience is good when you're getting started, and apparently Billie is just a whore for gigs. He'll play them all, whether it's for five people or five hundred."

"I guess that's what you have to do so you can get your name out. There's a lot of hard work to being in a band!" I could understand now why he'd been defensive about anyone belittling the effort they'd put in.

Kiko's housemates were having company over Halloween weekend, so we decided that we would reserve the Canterbury commons--it was large, convenient and had good parking. The Housing Department OKed the band as long as they didn't play after 11:00, so we were set. Wynn, Kiko and I would bring munchies, Tre would handle decorations, and Mike and Billie would pick up a keg. What more could we need?

Planning was a great distraction, but in the back of my mind, it was like a movie loop running, over and over. I kept thinking of Billie sitting alone in a cell, pacing like a caged animal, and it was killing me. He was trying so hard to be excited about the party, but how could anyone really be okay with that hanging over their head?

He only had one reservation about the whole party thing. "I keep thinking about that bail money," he said. "I know you said I shouldn't worry about it, but I do. Somebody had to come up with a lot of dough for me, and if it wasn't Mike, and it wasn't you, and I know it sure as hell wasn't Tre, then I owe somebody five hundred dollars. I just wish you'd tell me who it was so I could take care of it somehow."

"Billie, whoever it was cares about you a lot, and doesn't want you to feel bad. Just this once, it's okay to accept help, don't you think?"

He scratched his head, the dreadlock bouncing comically. "I'm just not used to that, I guess. I hate taking something I don't pay back, and I really wish you'd tell me who it was."

"I'm sworn to secrecy, sorry." I kissed his cheek and stroked his face. "You're just going to have to accept that there are people who love you, much as that hurts!"

"Ha ha."

He was adorable.

After we'd finished homework for Wednesday night, Wynn and I were trying to decide what costumes to wear, and we'd gone through a half dozen ideas already, discarding them as too childish, too cliche, too slutty.

"I know, how about a nurse?" Wynn asked. "I could make a giant syringe out of a paper towel roll and a coat hanger, and chase people around with it!"

"Hmm, not bad!" I said, rubbing my chin. "It's a little scary, but it could also be sexy. I like it!"

"So what about yours? Are you going with the genie thing?" she asked. "I think you'd look great in harem pants and a belly chain!"

"If I can find the stuff for it, I think that's what I'll do. I can probably get some cheap scarves at the thrift store and make it, if nothing else. It'll be something new for me, that's for sure!"

"Yeah, that's the great thing about Halloween--for one night, you get to be someone completely different. Maybe we can even take pictures and give them to Mike and Billie!"

Have you ever had one of those moments when a thought, an idea, an inspiration comes to you out of the blue, and you're left wondering why you never thought of it before?

"Gen, what on earth is going on in that brain of yours? You look like you've been hit with a stun gun!" Wynn said, snickering.

I slowly turned my head towards her, my mind racing. "Wynn, if I asked you to help me with something, would you do it?"

"Is it illegal?"

"I don't know for sure, but I don't think so."

"Okay, then, what do you have in mind?"

"We're going to get Billie out of this mess."

"Hell yes!" she crowed. Have I told you how much I love my roommate?

I pushed open the fire door to the SAE's--of course it wasn't locked, it never was.

Mid-afternoon, almost everyone was either in class or on the quad, throwing a football. Lotsa jocks in SAE. With Wynn not far behind me, and the wind of revenge filling my sails, I headed down the hall to Jordan's room, hoping I might catch him studying.

Luck was with me. I heard his stereo playing softly, and I looked back up the hall, nodding to Wynn, before I knocked. She ducked back around the corner to wait in their commons.

He opened the door, and at first, a blank look was all I saw. He didn't recognize me--not surprising, considering how drunk he had been at the homecoming party.

"Can I help you?" he asked. He looked and sounded even duller and more Neanderthal than he had before, even though he was sober.

Mentally bracing myself, I put a smile on my face and held out my hand. "I'm Genny Hayden. From Canterbury."

"Hi, Genny. Jordan Davis." His eyes were wandering up and down my body, looking like some mouth-breathing child molester. "What can I do for you?" The grin was positively sleazy.

"Well, you may not remember me, but you and I got off to a bad start a couple of weeks ago, and I was hoping maybe I could catch you when you weren't too busy, to see if I could patch things up a little."

I was crossing my fingers, praying he'd buy it.

Still, nothing seemed to register with him. "I'm afraid I don't remember you. Did we meet at one of the mixers?" Good God, he was stupid.

"Actually, it was at homecoming. I was at the concert on the quad, and that singer was hitting on me. You invited me back to your room, and we were having a pretty good time until he barged in on us."

Suddenly, a light came on in his attic. "Oh, that poser asswipe? Yeah, I remember him. Fucker gave me six stitches in my head. I shoulda torn his head off, but he was so little I was afraid I'd kill him."

Yeah, right. Clearly he remembered a whole different version of that whole series of events.

"Well, do you remember me now?" I asked sweetly. "'Cause I sure remember you!"

"Yeah, now I remember. Sorry, it's hard to keep all the names straight--I meet a lot of girls. But you definitely stand out from the rest of 'em." He wiggled his eyebrows, and I could swear he was almost drooling.

I thought I was going to throw up.

Fighting my gorge, I tried to look pleased. "If you're not busy, could I come in for a while?" I was fighting the urge to look back and make sure Wynn was still there, but I knew I'd give us away.

"By all means, please do." He stood back and motioned me inside. Looking over at the bed gave me chills as I mentally replayed the struggle between us, but I gritted my teeth and smiled at him. As he closed the door, I watched him carefully to see if he was going to lock it again, but luckily he wasn't being quite so obvious this time.

He wasn't polite enough to offer me a seat. Like some kind of farm animal, he just walked up close to me and started sliding his hand up and down my arm, as if he thought I'd come here just to have sex with him.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" he asked, not even looking at my face. His doughy hand continued its clammy path on my arm. It was all I could do not to shudder.

"Well, you and I had some unfinished business. I've been thinking about it a lot, and wondered if you had, too."

He moved in closer, staring down my cleavage. "Yeah, I've been thinking about it. Maybe we should finish where we left off." His ham hock of an arm snaked around my middle.

"Well, there is one thing I wanted to ask you first. See, my roommate is kind of dating that singer guy's friend, the bass player? And they've been asking me if I thought you might be willing to forget all the bad blood between the two of you and drop the charges. What would you think?"

He laughed in my face. "Why would I do that? He's lucky I didn't have them throw the book at him! Damned snot-nosed street rat!"

My blood was boiling, but I had to keep myself under control.

"But a big, strong guy like you shouldn't have to go to all this trouble to prove you're more of a man, should you?"

"Hell, I know I'm more of a man! I don't play some pansy guitar for a living! But he messed with the wrong guy, and he's gonna pay!"

"How would you feel if I told you it might be a smart idea to let it go?"

He looked absolutely bovine.

"See, when you and I had our little...rendezvous, I chatted with the nice men at Campus Security the next day. They were very interested in what I had to tell them about you, how strong you were, how you like to overpower girls half your size. They were really impressed with the bruises you left, too--really macho stuff, they said. They even took pictures to go with the report!"

His eyes narrowed. Somewhere in that tiny brain, it was beginning to dawn on him that he'd been tricked.

"So you see, even though you weren't arrested, there absolutely is a record of what happened. And it's very clear that it happened before Billie visited you here. There are three witnesses who will back me up on it." Over his shoulder, I saw the door silently inch open a tiny crack. "So what's the word, wanna make a deal?"

Suspicion was written all over his face. "You're lying. You never went to them."

"Call them yourself," I said, picking up the phone and handing it to him. He paused, his bluff called once again.

"You can't prove it was me. It's your word against mine."

"That may or may not be true," I said. "After all, three people followed me into this room and saw you--this is your room, isn't it? And if I'm not mistaken, what they saw you doing to me was attempted rape. That's a felony, you know. Enough to end any plans you might have of graduating, at least outside the prison educational system. So whaddaya say, J?" I was poking him in the chest with my finger now, reveling in having the upper hand.

I half expected it, but when his big hands shot out and wrapped around my throat, it wasn't quite how I thought he'd do it. He shoved me sideways, down on the bed again, and a horrible sense of deja vu filled my head. My lungs were desperately trying to pull in air, and the sound of his voice was getting fainter.

"You BITCH!" he bellowed. "I'll fucking KILL you! Threaten me, will you? I'll take care of you and that mangy sack of shit, too!"

"How about me, you fucking asshole?" a voice called from behind him.

Startled, he let go of me and turned to see who was in the room with us. There stood Wynn with her trusty digital camera, and as I sat up, rubbing my throat, his mouth sagged open.

"Thanks, Wynn," I rasped. "Now, let me shed some light on this picture for you, you stupid motherfucker. The cops have pictures of bruises that three people witnessed you putting on me. You were caught ripping my clothes off with your pants open. Now we've got pictures of
you trying to strangle me. Do I need to paint this picture any clearer?"

He looked back and forth between Wynn and me, and took a step toward the door. She blocked him, closing it and turning the lock. Waving the camera in his direction, she shook her head tauntingly. "No no no! We aren't finished yet!"

"Here's what you're going to do," I continued. "First, you're going to call the DA and tell him that you've decided to drop all charges against Billie."

"Fuck I will!" he spat.

I looked at Wynn and shrugged. "Okay, have it your way." I picked up the phone and began to dial 911.

Snatching it out of my hand, he threw it across the room, shattering the plastic housing. "No problem," I said. "We'll call from our room. But make no mistake, you'll be getting a visit from Security in a very short while. Try explaining that to your Mummy and Daddy!"

He dropped down on the bed, his hands dangling like squids between his freckled knees. "Fine, I'll drop the charges."

"Oh, that's not all. See, a really sweet man--more of a human being than you'll ever be--had to part with $500 to bail Billie out of jail. But he did it because he knows he's a good guy, and that he would never have kicked your fucking ass if you didn't deserve it. I think you need to pay him back."

He looked at me as if I were insane. "There is no FUCKING way--"

Wynn snapped another picture of him snarling at me, his finger in my face. He lurched off the bed and rummaged in his back pocket, producing an eelskin wallet that probably cost as much as the bail. Surely to Jesus he didn't have that much cash on him, surely he'd have to at least write a check...

He peeled five crisp hundred-dollar bills off a stack twice that size and threw them at my feet. "There you go, you whore! Take your diseased ass and get the fuck out of my room!"

"With pleasure," I smirked. And for good measure, I blew him a kiss.