Somewhere Between Water and Sky (Shattered Things #2) (26 page)

She nods and looks at me grimly.

“
We
’
re gonna need a bigger intervention.
”

She motions for me to follow her and she begins opening cabinets in the kitchen and pantry, looking satisfied when she finds a stack of red plastic cups.

“
Hey Rasco! Where
’
s your alcohol?
”

A booming voice echoes down the hallway.
“
Left cabinet. Behind the soup.
”

“
Behind the soup? I can
’
t even
…”
Jessa mutters under her breath before answering.
“
How about you organize your shit once in a while, huh? Liquor does not a tomato soup make my friend.
”

I blink.

“
Jessa. I can
’
t drink. I
’
m underage.
”

She
’
s reaching for something on the top shelf, standing on her toes and grunting. She pauses and falls back on her heels.

“
Oh Steph. This isn
’
t for you. You can have, I don
’
t know, Kool-Aid? I have no clue what the boys have here outside of water and liquor.
”

I wrinkle my nose.

“
That
’
s lame. And boring.
”

She lifts her finger.
“
Oh wait. Wait before you judge my friend.
”
She pivots and opens the fridge, grabbing the freshly squeezed lemonade.

“
Here. Here
’
s juice. Oh! And coffee. Coffee?
”

She holds a pitcher of iced toddy behind her and I grab it, pushing the lemonade back toward her.

“
A pox on you for handing me juice over coffee. And yes. Coffee I will most definitely have
…”

She carries the vodka, lemonade, gin and whiskey in her arms back into the room with the boys. I follow with the pitcher of coffee and a glass full of ice.

We put all of the glasses and drinks on the table, now clear, and Ren widens his eyes.

“
Jesus, Jessa. That
’
s a lot of booze. I
’
m not looking to get wasted tonight.
”

“
Oh no, Ren. No tapping out tonight.
”
A wicked grin crosses her face and she pulls a timer out of the waistband of her pants. I scratch my head.

“
When did you put the timer in your pants, Jessa?
”

The boys chuckle and Jessa offers a wry grin.
“
Well. Considering Ren over here has been tripping over his feet for a few years, I
’
d say about that long.
”
And then she winks, and my face grows crimson. I
’
m sure there
’
s no difference between my skin and my hair.

Ren hides a smile behind his hand and jerks his chin toward the drinks.

“
So
…
what are your plans, Jess?
”

She punches a few things on the screen of her phone and places it on the table in between everyone.

“
I figure it
’
s been a while since we
’
ve heard this song, yes?
”

A twinkling sound comes from her speakers and almost every single person in the room throws up their hands at the mention of something about
lazy hooks.

I say
almost everyone
because I
’
m not yelling something about good shit. I have no idea what
’
s going on here.

“
GOOD SHIT!
”
They all scream and then begin pounding on the table with their fists.

“
GOOD SHIT. GOOD SHIT. GOOD SHIT.
”

The song shifts into a driving beat and Ren belts out the chorus while Jessa breaks out into a sultry dance around a nearby chair.

You know it when you see it.

You know it when its there.

Like Michael Jackson
’
s Thriller,

like Farrah Fawcett
’
s hair.

I don
’
t even know what
’
s happening. Should I laugh? Cry? Run far, far away from whatever the hell is happening? I don
’
t know. Because I have
no clue
about anything right now other than some weird techno voice keeps talking about him (her?) liking when someone plays with their hair. When Andre 3000 comes on and starts talking about American Apparel ad girls, I get really confused.

What in the actual fuck is happening here.

I raise my hand and try to lift my voice above the bedlam happening in front of me. Coincidentally, the song ends right as I start hollering and the room grows quiet. Like a damn movie.

“
Can someone please explain what the fuck is going on?
”

Jessa breaks into shaky laughter, breathy from dancing. Flipping her hair as she sits down.
“
Whoa, Steph. No need to holler
…”

“
I was just
…
nevermind.
”
I grab the seat next to her.

She picks up the timer.

“
So a few years ago, when we were all in high school and doing things high school students shouldn
’
t do, we came up with this game.
”
She eyes me.
“
A drinking game.
”

I study her.
“
I gathered that.
”
Pointing to the timer, I raise an eyebrow.
“
So what are the rules?
”

Ren jumps in,
“
at the time, we just called it FUN SHIT, because we would go around in the circle and list well
…
fun shit we liked to do
…”

Jessa nods.

“
Right. And we would keep going until the timer stopped. The rule is, if the timer dings when it
’
s your turn, you finish your drink.
”

Ren leans in,
“
and if you
’
ve done what someone says, you take a sip.
”
He glances at Jessa.
“
We never really last very long.
”

Jessa shakes her head and giggles.
“
Yeah. Yeah we only last about three rounds before we have to stop.
”

I frown.

“
So what does this have to do with that song you guys just flipped out on?
”

Ren raises his eyebrows.
“
You
’
ve never heard of Capital Cities?
”

“…
.no?
”

“
Huh. Well. Anyway. That song
—
Farrah Fawcett Hair
—
became our unspoken opener to the game. It talks about good shit people like. We
’
ve since renamed the game.
”

“
Good shit.
”
I respond.

“
Good shit.
”
He nods.

I rest my back against the chair and take a sip of my iced coffee.
“
Okay. Okay this should be interesting. I
’
m suddenly very thankful I
’
m disqualified based solely on my age.
”

Jessa shakes her head and grabs my arm.
“
Oh no. No. You
’
re not disqualified. You
’
re on my team. I will drink for you.
”

I pause mid sip.

“
Jessa. That
’
s a lot of alcohol.
”

She smiles at me.
“
I can handle it. Promise. I
’
m kinda known for my alcohol tolerance.
”

Ren nods.

“
Yeah
—
she
’
s got the fortitude of a camel. It
’
s ridiculous.
”

“…
okay?
”

Jessa slaps the table and looks around.
“
Are we ready?
”

Everyone nods and she turns the timer, the ticking of the tiny second hands filling the space around us.

“
I go first. Good shit: this girl right here.
”
She jerks her thumb toward me. Ren takes a sip of his drink and the other guys raise their glasses before sipping out of their own cups.

“
Am I
…
are we supposed to drink to that? I
’
m myself and
…”
I frown and point to the other guys.
“
You guys don
’
t even know me.
”

A tall lanky guy with curly hair shrugs.
“
Jessa
’
s stamp of approval. Not many have that so you
’
re in as far as I
’
m concerned.
”
He breaks into a slow grin.
“
Plus you
’
re kinda cute.
”

Nope. Just kidding.
Now
my skin matches my hair color.

“
Um
…
thanks?
”

Jessa puts her hand up in front of her.

“
Off limits for multiple reasons, boys. No explanation needed. She needs friends, not male pheromones.
”

I hide my face behind my glass and drink half of my coffee before feeling safe enough to set the cup on the table. Jessa turns to Ren.

“
Your turn.
”

“
Gidget.
”
Ren responds and Jessa blushes. I roll my eyes.

And we continue on and on and on for the next few minutes
—
answers like
JRR Tolkien
and
Battlestar Galactica
and
Beyonce
’
s ass.

I go for easy ones: coffee, the ocean, new journals, my little brother.

Jessa answers back on one turn with
“
staying up all night to catch the sunrise
”
and motions for a cup tap in recognition. I shake my head.

“
I
’
m not big on sunrises, remember?
”

Her face clouds with recognition.
“
Oh yeah. Right. Sorry.
”

I shrug and listen in, that round full of answers like
dancing to Justin Timberlake
and
meeting Alec Baldwin
and
filming my first commercial.

When I was able to share again, I look at her.

“
Watching the sunset off Sunset Cliffs.
”

Her eyes brighten and she takes a sip of her drink.

“
Good shit.
”

On our tenth or so round, when the timer is slowly coming to an end, I sense a slowing down of people
’
s responses. Some guy mentions the way the wind rustles the leaves of trees and I take a sip of coffee to make him feel better but really? It could be the lack of spirits in my drink and the up tic of caffeine in my system, but this game is getting boring.

“
I ran from a train once. Almost got run over before I jumped off the cliff the tracks were on. That was pretty fun.
”