Last Stop This Town (18 page)

But when he returned to the window, all he said was, “Sorry, I couldn’t find any weed in your car.” And with that, he passed the key back to Dylan through the window.

Noah was confused. “What? Yes, there is. There was a book bag—”

Anthony interrupted him with a new, menacing tone of voice, “I said there wasn’t any weed in your car.” Then he turned around and started to walk away, revealing Pike’s book bag on his shoulder.

Noah went ballistic. He started rattling the chain link fence. “You fucking asshole! Give us back our weed! This guy stole our weed!”

Dylan grabbed Noah and tried to get him to calm down.

Anthony returned to the fence and threatened, “Get out of here, you bridge and tunnel pricks, before I really do call the cops!”

Noah spat at him and yelled, “Fuck you!” but the guy just gave Noah the finger and walked away. Noah rattled the fence some more, spewing bile before Dylan was finally able to pull him away.

Noah glared at Dylan accusingly. “Are you happy?”

“What? This is my fault somehow? You’re the one who said we could park there.”

“I wanted to go straight to the party!” Noah reminded him.

“Who cares about the fucking party?!” Dylan was sick of Noah’s bullshit. “So you saw Sarah with some guy. Who cares! Can’t you just hang out with your friends for once in your life?!”

Then, something occurred to Noah and he actually smiled. “Oh, my God. You’re jealous.”

“Yeah, right,” Dylan scoffed. “Sarah is not that hot.”

“Not of me, dumbass. You’re jealous of Sarah.”

Dylan laughed derisively.

But Noah was sure he was onto something here. “You are. You want me all to yourself.”

“You are so gay.”

Noah continued on, like a detective about to break a suspect. “No, it’s true. That’s what this is all about. You don’t like sharing me with her.”

Dylan got in Noah’s face. “Well, what’s so wrong about wanting to spend some time with my best friend—”

“Because you made me break up with her!” Noah screamed in his face.

Dylan escalated things, taking a step closer. “
You
came to
me
and asked what to do! I was just being a good friend.”

“No, you were being a selfish asshole, like always!”

Dylan exploded: “What does it matter?! You and Sarah are
over
! And whether it’s now or two months from now, you better get used to the idea of her sucking other guys’ cocks!”

Noah
punched Dylan in the face
!

Dylan came back and tackled Noah, knocking them both to the ground. They rolled around, punching and wrestling until Noah finally broke free. The two of them stood up, panting.

“Fuck you!” Noah yelled.

“No, fuck you!” Dylan shot back.

Dylan spat blood onto the street. “Don’t you get it?! This—” he said, gesturing all around him, “This is over!”

Noah didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Everything is over! Your life as you know it is
gone
! Your friends. Your family. This chapter has come to an end. And spoiler alert, we’re not going to be best friends in chapter two.”

Noah just glared at him for a moment before saying, “You’re a real fucking dick.”

And with that, Noah started to walk away.

Dylan suddenly realized he had gone too far and called out, “Noah, wait. Stop. Noah!”

B
ACK ON
C
ANAL
Street, Haley escorted a still very stoned Pike into her dark apartment. She closed the door behind them and the two were immediately all over each other, kissing sloppy kisses and feeling each other up. Pike didn’t believe in following the traditional path around the bases, and quickly reached down into her jeans.

Then, from out of the kitchen came Cassandra, a gorgeous redhead even hotter than Haley. Pike couldn’t believe it. He figured on the taxi ride over that maybe she would be a six, or a seven at best. After all, girls either intentionally overrated their friends’ looks or simply had no idea. But Cassandra was tall and skinny like a model and her long, straight hair fell down to the middle of her back. She was in her twenties, like Haley, and she watched Pike and Haley getting busy for a moment before commenting, “That is so hot.”

Haley came up for air. “Look what I brought home for us,” she purred to Cassandra.

“Nice,” Cassandra replied seductively. Then she came over and started massaging Pike’s chest.

Pike was a little nervous. “Uh, hi. Jeff Pike. People call me Pike.”

“I hope that’s truth in advertising,” Cassandra whispered before grabbing his crotch.

Pike looked around. “Is this a porno? Am I being recorded for some voyeur video?”

The girls just laughed and started kissing each other.

Pike didn’t need an engraved invitation. He joined in.

Luckily for Walker, Genevieve knew exactly where Front Street was. With few options presenting themselves, they decided to go to the party in the hopes that the other guys had found their way there, too.

Front Street was near the South Street Seaport and housed some fish processing factories, a few trendy lofts, and a lot of abandoned buildings. It was an area of Manhattan where few people spent any real time, unless they were executive chefs at a seafood restaurant.

The party itself was off Front Street on an unnamed alley. A long line of people stretched down the block.

Near the end of the line, Walker tried once again to reach Dylan and Noah with Genevieve’s phone. “Still no answer,” he reported and handed the phone back to her.

Genevieve looked tired. “Well, it’s getting late anyway. I should catch the train back…”

“No, wait,” Walker pleaded. “It’s early. We’re already here.”

“How are we supposed to get in?”

She had a point. The hologram-etched wristbands were in the Cube and this wasn’t the kind of party that sold tickets at the door.

Walker’s growing infatuation with Genevieve forced his brain into overdrive. He wanted this to work out more than anything. Something inside of him was telling him this was an important moment that could change his life and he couldn’t just let it slip away. He needed a way into that party.

Then, proving that necessity truly is the mother of invention, a thought materialized from the ether and Walker announced confidently, “I’ve got an idea.”

A few minutes later, Walker and Genevieve walked around back to the loading dock, carrying an empty Styrofoam cooler they had found in a pile of trash in an empty lot. The loading dock was busy with dozens of people hauling more booze and equipment into the party. Walker and Genevieve held either side of the cooler, pretending it had some weight to it. At the entrance was a party coordinator, basically an overweight guy in his thirties wearing a Nine Inch Nails concert t-shirt and carrying a clipboard. He was checking off each person that entered, and double-checked everything against his inventory list. He was the sole gatekeeper to the back entrance.

As the two approached him, he questioned, “What’s this supposed to be?”

“Dry ice,” Walker answered a little too quickly.

The guy checked his clipboard. “You’re not on the list.”

“Yeah, we are,” Walker replied, trying his best to sound convincing. “Check it again.”

But instead, the coordinator looked them up and down and noticed something was missing. “I’m sorry, where’s your event badge?”

Amazingly, Walker played it cool, taking an aggressive stance. “Hello? We’re not event staff. We’re with Smirnoff Ice, one of your premium beverage vendors? And you’ve got about ten seconds before this dry ice sublimates. You want to be responsible if that happens?”

Genevieve was impressed, but kept a straight face. The party coordinator looked Walker over and Walker was sure the guy had bought it.

Instead, he said, “Do I look like an idiot? What are you, nineteen?” The guy lifted the top off the cooler and rolled his eyes at the lack of dry ice, or anything else, inside.

Walker looked embarrassed and put down the empty Styrofoam cooler. He sighed, defeated.

But then Genevieve stepped up and took a crack at it. “Okay, fine, you got us,” she admitted, “but can you at least do me a favor?”

The guy looked at her skeptically and said, “Yeah, what’s that?”

“Look over there,” she requested, nodding to the left.

Confused, the guy instinctively looked over, and in a flash, Genevieve started running! She easily made it past the guy and into the building before he had time to react. Unfortunately, Walker was also taken by surprise, and by the time his brain told his feet to follow Genevieve, the guy was crouched in a defensive posture, guarding the entrance like an American Gladiator.

Walker crouched as well, his eyes darting left and right, looking for a way in. Finally, Walker locked eyes with the man. Maybe there was no way this guy was letting Walker get by, but there was also no way Walker was letting Genevieve go off without him. Walker studied the situation, and his years of education and experience told him there was only one solution. Walker kicked him in the balls.

“I’m sorry,” Walker said as the guy crumpled to the ground, and he honestly was.

Walker ran.

Walker found Genevieve inside the loading dock. They stopped to catch their breath and saw no one was after them.

“What happened? I thought I lost you.”

“How about a little head’s up next time?” Walker complained, his adrenaline still pumping.

“Sorry, my senses are finely attuned to seek out weaknesses in my opponents.”

“Huh?”

“I spent the first nine years of my life training in a Shaolin temple,” Genevieve explained with a straight face.

“Seriously?”

“No, dumbass.”

This is the coolest girl I have ever met in my life
, Walker thought.

Genevieve smiled and pulled Walker down the hallway toward the party.

The music grew louder and they could feel the electricity in the air as they snaked down the back hallway toward the party. But when they turned the corner and actually laid eyes on it, it was too much for even Genevieve’s brain to process all at once. There were simply too many things going on. The size and scope of the party were overwhelming.

There were easily more than a thousand people partying. A celebrity DJ manned a massive sound system usually reserved for Metallica concerts. Actual go-go dancers in steel birdcages were spaced around the dance floor. A well-dressed model with a Capuchin monkey on her shoulder walked by. People were drinking, dancing, making out, and having the time of their lives. It was like an indoor Woodstock crossed with a modern rave.

“Jesus,” was all Walker could say.

“Check that out,” Genevieve said, nodding to the right. Some hot girls were running and jumping face-first onto a Slip & Slide (creating nice wet t-shirts in the process).

“Isn’t that iCarly?” Genevieve asked, amazed.

“Look at the bar,” Walker gasped. It was half a block long with about thirty bartenders.

“I think that girl is naked,” Genevieve pointed out. Sure enough, a circulating Cuervo Girl’s top was painted-on to look like Pancho Villa.

She saw the two of them gaping and stopped to ask, “Shot of Cuervo?”

“I’ll do one,” Genevieve volunteered.

“Sure, me too,” Walker joined in.

The girl had no shotglasses, only liters of Cuervo strapped to her waist. She pulled out both bottles like a gunslinger and poured a shot directly into each of their mouths.

“José Cuervo,” she seemed required to say, “proud sponsor of Stark Raving Mad 2012.” And then she took off in search of another customer.

Walker and Genevieve looked at each other for a moment and smiles crept across their faces. This was going to be fun.