A Crime Fiction

Young, dumb, and 21. That’s what we were. We were of the age of invincibility. There was nothing we could not do, and if it was wrong, we would never get caught. We could drink all night and get up for work the next morning. There was no limit to the trouble we could get into or the amount of alcohol we could consume. As was the night of October 28, 1990.

Receiving an invitation to one of Brody’s parties was something everyone bragged about. So when we received ours, we were ecstatic! I called Cheryl and Lisa and told them the news. They, too, were just as excited. We asked ourselves if we should invite Christy, weighing the pros and cons. If she finds out we went to Brody’s without her, she will be so mad at us. She’s been wanting to go to one of his parties for a long time. But if we invite her, she’s only going to regret it in the morning, then ghost us for weeks while she gets right with God and aligns with her church and parents’ values. With that last thought, we decided not to tell her about the party.

The three of us pull up to Brody’s huge, lustrous mansion, the lights illuminating the circular drive. The valet took the keys to my bug and drove away.

“Wow, this is bigger than I imagined!” I said.

‘No, I thought it was going to be way bigger and way prettier.”

Lisa, wanting to keep the peace, said it was exactly as she imagined.

Once inside, a large staircase led upstairs, and people were sitting at the bottom. To our left, French doors opened into a huge room full of people. Brody had a DJ, and the room was dark, with strobe lights that danced like shooting stars. There were coolers and kegs and bottles of alcohol everywhere. We each grabbed something to drink and started mingling. We didn’t know anyone here. So, we regrouped in a corner.

“Do you know anyone?” Lisa asked.

“No. Do you?” Cheryl replied.

“Me either, this is weird. Well, the valet took my keys, and I’m starting to feel this drink, so we may as well make the best of it. Let’s go explore.” I pulled out my phone.

“Should we text Christy the address?”

Lisa shook her head. “You know how she gets. She’ll have fun tonight, then spend the next three weeks feeling guilty, ghosting us while she gets right with God.”

Cheryl nodded. “I can’t deal with another guilt trip.”

I put my phone away. We left the room with fresh drinks inside 24-oz tumblers with lids and straws.

“Wow, taste this!” I extended my cup to Lisa. Cheryl was a germaphobe. And shook her head no at the thought of sharing straws.

“Oh, that’s good. Here, try mine.”  Lisa’s drink tasted of kiwi and pineapple with a lot of vodka.

Huge portraits of people we didn’t recognize hung throughout the house, and the bathrooms were bigger than our bedrooms. We found two kitchens and a room that I later learned was a butler pantry, equipped with a sink and fridge.

Before heading outside, we stopped in the ballroom to grab another drink. Bodies were dancing provocatively, a good indication that they were heavily inebriated. Cheryl wanted to stay and dance, Lisa and I wanted to go outside to the garden, so we parted ways.

We linked our arms together and headed outside, swaying and stumbling as we walked. The giant hedges arched into an opening, and we entered with the courage that alcohol gives. It was dark; the full moon illuminated the path before us.

“Shit, we’re going to get lost.”

Lisa burst out laughing. “It’s not like we will be stuck in here forever; someone will eventually come looking for us.”

“But what if they don’t?”

We stopped laughing and stared at each other for a moment, then burst into another sort of laughter. The kind that pushes away fear.

“Well, this is a dead end, I told you we should have gone right. You always go right. That’s the only way to go.” She scolded.

I hated to admit she might be right this time. So, we turned around.

“But we have to go left this time because we didn’t go right the last time.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, and we went left. “Ugh, this drink is getting to me. It was way too sweet. I’m going to set it right here. That way, when we come back out, we will see it and know we are going the right way.”

Onward we walked, hands grazing the hedge’s edge. When we came to a fork, Lisa reminded me to go right. And this time I listened. I set my drink down before turning right, knowing our drunk brains will need all the help they can get.

We stumbled through the maze, giggling. It felt like forever, dead end after dead end, but we were having too much fun to care.

Finally, we found the end of the maze. It opened into a garden full of roses and a gazebo in the center. There was a water fountain with a stream circling around. It was heaven.

“Wow, this is amazing. Have you ever seen anything like this?”

“Once, but it was Colorado when I hiked to a waterfall. But this is man-made, so it makes it more surprising.”

We walked to the gazebo and noticed someone was slumped on the ground.

“Who do you think that is?”

“I have no idea. In case you forgot, we don’t know anyone here. “ Lisa snorted.

“Hi. Do you mind if we join you?”

There was silence. I wondered if they were passed out and decided to check on them.

We stepped onto the gazebo floor and realized it was Christy.

“Christy? I am so glad you came!” I said.

Lisa’s eyes were huge. She stopped, her jaw dropping to the floor.

When I turned back to Christy, who was still silent, I thought maybe she was mad at us for not inviting her. Then I noticed her hair was matted to her head. I grabbed my phone and shined it on her. Her hair was matted to her face with dark, sticky, reddish brown crust. I stood up and gasped. I shined my light down her body. Her skirt was pulled up and her panties were tangled around her ankles.

Blood was everywhere. It was on me too. Lisa was frozen, silent from shock. I stumbled backward,

“Oh my god! I she….” I couldn’t bring myself to say, “…dead?”

There lay our friend Christy, whom we chose not to invite, in a pool of her own blood.

“It’s all my fault,” Lisa sobbed. “I’m the one who said we shouldn’t invite her. I said she’d kill the vibe. If we had invited her, she would still be alive.”

In the distance, I could still hear the music from the house. People laughing, dancing, living.