It was even darker than outside, the music was even louder, and the room was humid from all the wet bodies. There were a lot of wet bodies. Holy shit, what was happening back here? My eyes darted around the room, but all I could see were limbs. Tangled together. Half hanging off couches. Pressed up in corners. Thank god the music was so loud because who knew what I would hear if it wasn’t. There was literally nowhere to look that didn’t feel like I was violating someone’s right to privacy.
Steve walked into the middle of the room, stepping over legs and arms with ease, dragging me along behind. I mumbled sorry to the hands and toes I squashed, but no one seemed to notice. “Any of these body parts look familiar?” he shouted into my ear.
“Oh, um . . .” I stared at the poster of a parrot and a margarita on the back wall, too afraid of what I would see if I looked any lower.
“Cam, Cam, Cam. You are not making this easy.” He put one hand up to his mouth and shouted, “Yo! Any of you people getting on Kaia?” There was a smattering of laughter from the room. “Is this Kaia?” some guy asked, and the redhead he was making out with smacked him and laughed, “Shuttt uppp.” More laughter. Steve looked at me and gave an exaggerated shrug. “Guess not.” Then, grabbing my arm, he pulled me back toward the sliding glass doors.
“This is a consent nightmare, Steve!” I shouted over the music as my foot kicked an empty plastic cup. “Everyone’s drinking!”
Steve stopped. His eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, thanks, Cam. I missed that!” He turned back toward the room. “Hey! Is everyone getting consensually laid here? Cam is very concerned!”
There was an answering “Woooooooooooo!” from the pile of bodies, followed by more laughter. A few fists pumped in the air. Steve slung his arm around me again, smiling brightly.
“Well, I feel better now! The search continues. . . .”
He dragged me out onto the pool deck. The cool night air hit me in the face, a shock after the sticky warmth of the pool house. My cheeks were hot. I knew they must be bright red. It was annoying. I had no reason to be embarrassed. I’d done the right thing by saying something. But my cheeks stayed red. And Steve noticed. Of course he did. His smile got even bigger. Sliding his arm from my shoulders, he grabbed a cup off the top of the nearby keg and expertly poured a beer.
“You want? You look a little warm.” His eyes glittered with amusement.
“No.”
With a shrug, Steve drank the beer. Alcoholic peer pressure didn’t seem to be in his repertoire. He wiped the foam from his lip and then leaned against the keg, ready to settle in for a conversation. “So, you and Kaia close?”
“Oh, um, we’re friends.”
“But you want to get on that, right? Rub that scrawny little body of yours all over her.”
“No!” I objected both to the scrawny and to the rubbing. Not that I hadn’t had a thought or two . . . but it wasn’t . . . and I always . . . “It’s not like that,” I mumbled.
“Please. You wanna ride Kaia like Aquaman rides a dolphin.” Steve started thrusting his hips suggestively. I looked away, but he just thrust his way closer to me. “Kaia . . .” He closed his eyes and let his mouth go slack. I stepped back. He thrust closer. “Mmmmmm. Kaia . . .” Steve started moaning. People turned and snickered.
“It’s not just about sex, okay! Kaia’s amazing!”
Steve’s eyes snapped open. He stopped thrusting. “Let’s try inside,” he suggested, suddenly all business.
We ended up in what I guess people would say was a den. Or a man cave. I wasn’t sure, since my place had a living room and that was basically it for the “hanging out” areas. And even that space had a dining room table tucked into it. You could probably fit two of my living rooms in the space we were in now. A huge squishy L-shaped leather couch filled the room. There were jerseys under glass hanging on the walls—Lakers, Dodgers, Rams. All signed. A popcorn machine sat forgotten and unused in the corner.
A bunch of guys were scattered on the couch, hunched over the controllers clutched in their hands. I tried to guess what game they were playing but I didn’t recognize it. Something with lasers and aliens. Suddenly my vision went black.
“Cease fire! Cease fire! This is a safe space for Cam! He’s afraid of guns!” Steve had covered my eyes with his hands. I struggled to get away, but Steve just gripped tighter.
“Stop it! Let go!” Finally, I yanked his hands down only to be faced with everyone in the room staring at me. The game was paused and its silence underscored the players’ annoyed glares. Awesome.
Steve nudged me. “Maybe these guys know,” he faux whispered.
“Uh . . .” I quickly ran through my options on how to get out of this with minimal embarrassment. Sadly, giving in seemed like the fastest way. “Have any of you seen Kaia Gonzales?”
Blank stares. A few uninterested grunts. Steve clapped me on the shoulder. “Sorry, buddy. No luck.” He gestured grandly to the room. “Resume the bloodshed!” Someone unpaused the game and there was a blare of laser fire and explosions. Some sort of tentacled creature splattered into a million pixelated pieces and then my vision went black again as Steve covered my eyes and dragged me from the room.
I ducked out of his grip as we entered a wide tiled hallway. It was big enough and long enough to have those weird half tables pushed up against the walls every few feet. Steve was stroking my back.
“Shhhhh. It’s okay now. The bad bang-bang sticks are gone.”
I jerked away. “Dude, I’m not embarrassed by my natural fear response. It’s totally okay to be afraid.”
Steve shrugged. “Being scared is boring.”
“Don’t pretend that you aren’t afraid of anything.”
Steve thought for a moment. “You’re right. I’m afraid you’re ruining my party.” He opened one of the many doors lining the hall and disappeared.
I followed him in and immediately started coughing. The room was filled with smoke so dense it was impossible to see anything but silhouettes. The stench of weed was overwhelming. I could vaguely make out a pool table with an assortment of bongs scattered on top. Clearly, Steve’s friends were old school. “I hate you,” I finally managed after a few more wheezing coughs.
Steve turned to me. He was close enough that I could see the fake look of hurt on his face. “Dude, that’s harsh. After all this work I’m doing to help you find your girl?” He spun around and stepped farther into the smoke. “Attention, stoners! Has anyone seen Kaia? Cam here won’t tell me what we’re working with on the booty and titty front so I can’t give you a description.” Seeing my chance to escape, I crouched below the weed cloud and made my way back toward the door. I’d find Kaia on my own. Steve continued, “Also, does anyone know Cam? Anyone? Because I’m starting to think this guy’s a ghost.”
Waving away the smoke, I found the door and stumbled back into the hallway.
And right into a pair of khaki pants.
An adult.
Shit.
I straightened, knowing the weed still clung to my clothes, and hoped my eyes weren’t bloodshot.
He was tall and broad, with pumped-up pecs that strained the too-tight polo shirt he was wearing. Close-cropped gray hair and a super erect posture that screamed ex-military completed the look. There was no question who this guy was: Steve’s dad.