“Oh, you know. I’ve always had a thing for Robert Downey, Jr., and this just happened to be the right size.” I was already sweating through the bulky padding.
I had to buy time to figure out who my dream assassin was. When I thought back on all my podcasts, my enemy list was long.
Allison stood next to me in the mirror. She had on black high heels, elongating her already long legs, and had plenty of cleavage showing. She looked good. Not necessarily what I would have chosen, but then again, I’m not a shallow puddle.
The shallow-puddle podcast was old. It was back when we first moved in together. Being a junior in an otherwise freshman all-girl dormitory was a weird experience. I didn’t know anyone, so I didn’t want to take a gamble on choosing an off-site location with random roommates. I thought I could experience campus life for the first semester, make some friends, and maybe arrange another living situation for the second semester.
Allison had burst through the door and immediately started hanging up dried corsages from all the past proms she’d attended. When I asked why she had so many, because there are only four potential proms in a high school lifetime. She’d said, “Oh, there were three high schools in my hometown, and I was asked to go to all the proms, every year.”
Then she started with the judgey eyes. Watching me get dressed in clothes she didn’t approve of. Questioning my lack of mascara and foundation. Hemming and hawing about the six million ways my hair could look better.
But now she was my friend. I realized it really wasn’t her fault she’d lived her life around narrow-minded idiots. She started opening up to me about how she really felt about life in general, and now she wore less makeup and slightly baggier clothing. I liked to think that was my influence.
A soft knocking interrupted my train of thought. Flipping down my mask, I opened up the door. As if a major earthquake had hit the building, Jack dropped to his knees and curled into a fetal position. He couldn’t even speak he was laughing so hard. Grabbing his gut, his face was completely red. He pointed up at me with tears in his eyes. “What. The. Hell?” I kicked him in the side and walked out the door.
As directed, I kept my mask down as we walked into the club. Nick, dressed as a hot bartender, looked up from behind the bar. I thought he was going to shoo me out, yelling, “Who let a little fucking kid in here?” But he just watched me walk past and make my way up to the stage.
It was hard to breath in this thing. I was closer to Darth Vader than Iron Man. Raspy noises escaped through the cheap plastic, so using the mic would be a challenge. People were starting to file inside, and in the corner, Rick leaned against the doorway to the office, shaking his head as Jack helped me set up the equipment.
Then Jack leaned into my mask. “Don’t be mad.”
“Why?” I turned, flexing my padded bicep at him. “You tell me anymore bad news and I’m going to beat your ass, Dimebag.”
Jack smiled and jumped off the stage. At a rapid pace, he spat out, “I invited the guys from the team.” Then he ran across the dance floor as I lifted my repulsor rays and shot them repeatedly at his head. Zaps and dinging followed him to a table where Allison sat.
I smiled as he sat in the chair next to her and leaned in a bit to talk to her. He was talking to a girl. This was a good first step. Then she threw back her head, waving around those bulbous bee antennas attached to her headband, and laughed at whatever Jack was saying. His cheeks rose as he proudly smiled, and damn it, so did mine. That is until they hit the sharp plastic lining of the mask, reminding me of tonight’s fate. I didn’t understand how kids could wear these things.
Molly stepped around the bar, and Nick popped out, heading up to the stage with a water.
Placing it on the booth, he said, “Let me guess. You lost a bet? Or maybe you wanted to start your twenty-first year with a big fuck you to the management? Rick’s shaking his head so hard I think it’s going to break off.” He gave me a confident smile. “Personally, for what it’s worth, I think you look awesome. Hottest Iron Man I’ve ever seen.”
Chapter Fourteen
What can I say?
Sydney Porter can pull off a middle school Iron Man costume like nobody’s business. I knew she’d look hilarious, but I was here to witness, “This DJ Sucks Cock,” and I hoped the effects button would stick on repeat.
Fernando, Katharine, Chance, some blond chick, Allison, Jack, and I sat in a booth at the back of the club, watching Sinister’s set unfold. Apparently, it was a bit difficult to mix with repulsor rays strapped to one’s wrists. Unfortunately, she’d figured out if she turned her hands around, she could use the backs of them to pull the bars across.
When she said things into the microphone, they came out raspy but feminine. A little too sultry for my liking. But I had to chuckle every time she glanced down at the girl in the skull mask, sitting off to the side.
I’d put up a flyer in the drama department offering a hundred bucks if a girl would sit in the front row and stare at the DJ for the night. Of course, the money was wired from a dummy PayPal account as an extra precaution. I had no doubt in my mind Sydney wanted to jump off that stage and punch her in the face.
“Where’s the help in here?” Katharine snapped. She was dressed as a slutty nurse. Very cliché. Very boring. When she realized just opening her trap wasn’t going to magically make a waitress appear, she nudged me hard in the stomach. “Go get us drinks, Gray.” Her self-entitled pout face was enough send me running through the club doors, so welcoming a change of scenery, I made my way to the bar.
Nick was at the rail, staring at Iron Man, and I knocked on the counter to grab his attention.
“Hey, Gray. What’s up?” He peeked around my shoulder. “Katharine DeSonna, huh? Good luck with that one.”
I nodded. Coach’s warning was in the back of my mind. Keep it short and sweet, Peters. “Hey. Can I get a pitcher of whatever’s good on tap and three glasses?”
“Sure, man.” He grabbed an empty pitcher and began to fill it from the nearest tap. “She’s cute, huh?”
“Katharine?”
He shook his head. “No, DJ Sinister. You were just staring at her with a twisted grin on your face. Have you hit that or something? Looks like you’re reminiscing about taking her to Pound Town.”
Cringing at his words, I shook my head. “Nope. No way.”
At that moment, Sinister looked over at us and shot off a half dozen repulsor zaps at my head. I laughed and turned back to collect the pitcher.
Nick was staring at her in a strange way, like a cannibal about to devour a plate of brains. “Well, I’m taking her out tonight after her set. Should be fun.” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively, and I pushed down the lump building in my throat.
“It’s her twenty-first so I want to show her a good time. Here you go.” He slid the glasses and pitcher my way. “On the house.”
I pulled out a twenty. “No thanks, man. I’d rather pay.”
Nick frowned but kept his eyes on Sydney.
“Gotta keep the SpaceRoom in business,” I said, walking backward toward the table. Nick nodded absentmindedly, but his stare at the DJ never faltered.
Katharine watched me the entire way back to the table.
As I sat down, she leaned in and grabbed my arm. “Oh my God, is that Nick Sharbus? I can’t believe he’d show his face around here. He should’ve been kicked out of school a long time ago.”
I began pouring beer in the glasses. “What are you talking about?”
“Puh-lease,” she said, like I should’ve known this already. “I’ve warned all my sisters off him. He has a tried and true method of sleeping with women. Gross.”
My hand tightened around my glass, and I felt a weight pull across my shoulders. “What do you mean, Katharine?”
Her eyes remained wide as she cautiously glanced between Nick and me. “Well, let’s just say he’s a fan of pharmaceuticals,” she whispered, then took a sip of her beer.