Buttered Popcorn

Chapter 3: October 31, 1986

"Are you done yet, Les? The party started an hour ago. Let's go." I rapped my knuckles against her door, leaning against the wall and groaning after.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. You ready?" she bounced her hair after opening the door. "Have been for the past 30 minutes." I responded. "Hey, is that my top?" "No."

"Les..." I looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I don't like liars." After a few seconds, she finally broke. I knew I could get to her. "Ugh, fine. Yes, but you barely wear it! I'll go take it off if you want, but honestly, I don't have another top to match this outfit-"

"Dude, it's fine. No worries." I shrugged, chuckling a little at her overreaction. She tended to do that a lot. "Alright, let's rock n' roll." I swung the door open and stepped aside, holding it open for her. "After you, Paul."

"Much appreciated, Hendrix." she offered a small curtsy and walked out the door. "What are you supposed to be, anyway?" I asked, looking her up and down.

She wore an off-the-shoulder black top with leather pants and bright red lipstick. Her big hair, red pumps, and leather jacket made her look like a greaser. "I'm Sandy Olsson! From Grease!" Huh, hit the nail right on the head.

"Oh, nice. I could've guessed that." I nodded. She was pretty spot on, I'd say. Plus, she looked great. "And you? You're wearing what you normally do, but with color." she said.

"I'm M.J., from the Thriller video. I saw it on MTV and I thought it was pretty far out. What d'you think?" I stopped in the parking lot and attempted to moonwalk, finished with a signature "Hee hee!"

"I'd say you totally killed it." she said after laughing. "Right? The leather is going to be a bitch to wear all night, though. It's already hot as shit."

I wore a red leather jacket with black accents and red leather pants. I had a tight black shirt under and tried to style my dark hair like Michael Jackson did. It didn't work out too well.

As I steered through the streets of L.A., Les and I spotted kids littered through the streets, all wearing some type of costume. I spotted a few and Les would continue to point out her favorite ones.

Finally, the numbers on the front of the apartment matched those that I had scribbled onto a torn-off piece of newspaper. Looking up to the windows, there was an insane amount of music and people. This has gotta be the one.

"Far out." I muttered, gazing at the light radiating from the apartment. "This is gonna be so fun!" Les squealed from the passenger seat. After driving down the street and finally parking, because of the insane amount of cars, we arrived at the front door.

"I guess we shouldn't bother knocking." I shrugged, slowly twisting the handle just as someone was leaving. "Woah- Sorry, dude." they muttered, leaving the door open as they slipped past us and hurled into the bushes in front of the door. "Oh... gross." I stated simply before guiding Les in, soon following.

Upon entering, there was everything you'd expect at a party like this. I, however, didn't know what to expect. I was barely one to go out, much less to random parties. The overwhelming stench of sweat, alcohol, and weed nearly had me hunched over and vomiting into the bushes like the guy we just saw.

"Hey, I'm gonna go get a drink! You'll be alright?" I called over the music, though Les was only about half a foot away. "Yeah, I'm fine. Go do your thing, girl!" she whooped, laughing. I smiled back at her, watching her slip into the crowd and begin dancing on some dude.

She grinded up against his body and he trailed his hands up and down her sides. Les giggled and smiled at him, as if she already knew him. Her natural personality was like she was drunk. Now, her while she was drunk? That's a whole other story.

Sometimes it hurt me to see Les trust people so easily. She had no problem gifting people with her body or let them get to her so quickly. That's why I had to act the way I did. I protected her as if she were my little sister, but some could say we had the relationship of people that were dating. I disagreed, but didn't have a problem with it. Now wasn't the time to ponder about how my best friend was too vulnerable to the common public, though.

It was time to get fucked up.