Party & Bullshit

Party & Bullshit (Biggie Smalls) – RATATAT (listen in new tab)

When G.T. announced that Brae had invited him to what might be “the best party ever”, K shuddered. He knew G.T. would be able to convince Claire and she somehow convinced Shannon.

Now he’s standing in a packed living room, or what could have been one if there were furniture. It is still early, and the hardwood floor already reverberates under the weight of people and the hip-hop’s bass boom.

His back is to the wall. He watches Shannon. She knows a lot of people here and has taken this occasion to talk to everyone, explaining over and over again why she’s back. A story that lacks detail, the footnotes blacked out and shoved to the bottom of the page where no one looks. It’s a lie repeated enough. She holds a bottle of coke loosely by her hip. Claire stands with her.

Nervousness has been keeping K company. He doesn’t notice how fast he’s drinking and doesn’t have much to say. Not his crowd. He feels alienated, more so as he gets drunker. Mostly, he just keeps an eye out. If Brae’s here, Maury’s going to be here.

He didn’t have the courage at the 5-Oh to tell her about Shannon. Instead, he pretended contrition, to have been wrongly distracted by work. That night he stayed too long; he touched her hips as he leaned his face next to hers to talk over the music. Their hands had become a knot. He watched her mouth form every word.

And then he left quickly on a poorly made excuse. She watched him go, hands on her hips. Those hips. Shannon was asleep in bed when he got home. His apartment felt empty. Dysphoria had settled on the place like dust no one cleaned.

G.T. appears from the press of people with two shots. He hands one off to K. “Good to see Shannon out and social.”

K: “Yeah. Brae here?” The question was kitty-corner to what he wanted to know.

G.T.: “Nah. Not yet. Man, this place is going to be busting at the seams soon. Cheers.”

K: “Cheers.” They down the shots. K coughs, caught off-guard by the whiskey. His stomach feels warm. It moves out from his centre, cascading up to his brain. His head gets heavy and starts to diffuse. “I need water.”

The kitchen is crowded, too. He runs the water cold before sliding a cheap plastic cup under the faucet. One hand on the edge of the counter, he drinks half the glass. Refilling the cup, he sees Brae out of the corner of his eye. His heart jumps. He tries to clear his head, but it’s buffeted with excitement and unfeasible schemes.

A soft hand on his back. He knows it’s Maury before he turns around.

Maury: “You gonna run off this time?” She’s drunk. She puts her hand on his chest as if to hold him in place.

K: “Probably. It’s a city of crime, and I’m the only one protecting it.”

Maury: “Would I have to kill someone to get you to stay?”

K sees Shannon walk past the kitchen door. He knows she saw him. K takes Maura’s hand off his chest. It is a fast, demonstrative action. “Probably.” Still holding her hand. “I need to go to the washroom. You’ll be around?”

Maury smiles at him. She steps forward a little, pushing him into the counter. Her eyes are focused and playful. “I don’t know. I should probably get to my secret lair and plot some sort of nefarious heist.”

K slides out from in front of her. “If that helps. I’ll find you later.”

He’s out of the kitchen quickly. He finds Shannon and Claire upstairs. He comes up behind them, putting his hand on the small of Shannon’s back. “Hey. What’s up, girls? I guess you know a lot of people here.”

Shannon looks back over her shoulder as she moves away. “So do you. Who were you talking to in the kitchen?”

K feels the back of his head with his palm. “Her? She comes to the café sometimes.”

Now facing him Shannon: “She’s cute.” Her eyes are electric, searching.

K: “Didn’t notice. She’s drunk though.”

Shannon: “Yeah, right.”

K: “Really.”

Claire moves her head back and forth between them. Their words buzz along the high tension wires between them.

Shannon: “Whatever. Drop it.”

K: “Shannon, really.” She says nothing. Shannon’s face is a well. His words echo down her.

There is a long pause. The air weighs on the three of them. Claire fumbles for a way out from under it: “Have you seen G.T.? Who’s that girl?”

K: “Oh, that’s Brae. I guess they’ve been dating.”

Claire, with a little malice: “I don’t like her. Did you see what she’s wearing?”

K looks at the floor. It’s still early.