The party was over. Some pseudo punk-goth-emo-whatever the hell this generation's black wearing headbangers were called had thrown a real energetic bang. Those still sober enough to walk had piled into a jacked-up Jeep Wrangler driven by some guy who was still sober enough to steer, more or less. He was the only one in the bunch who could walk into a supermarket without drawing too many stares. He was without piercings or colored hair, and what tattoos he had could be concealed with a t-shirt. The other two guys and gals were varying degrees of degeneracy, but they all sort of fit in together. They didn't look or act to far off of a common mark.
No, the odd man out here is not a man at all. The odd man out here is Ethan Russell.
He sits stoically in the back of the Jeep, on the tailgate, with his sinewy arms draped from his grip on the sport rack. Everyone else is singing or screaming or yelling jokes, but Russ is a rock among the flailing arms and merriment, the small smile at the corner of his lips the only clue that he even notices. Only his color choice in fashion could be pointed to as the tie that binds.
But the kids had liked him at the party, looking cool, unfazed, dangerous even. "Here's a motherfucker who knows how to keep his lid on!" was the extent of the greeting he'd been given by the group of friends. He'd watched them thrash around and act their age for two hours before they all decided to go riding around, landing at a small park by the river twenty minutes later. Half of them fell out of the vehicle instead of stepping, laughing and cursing all the while.
Jason, the driver/lead singer wannabe chucked noticeably lower. "Jesus, you guys, quit trying to get us busted." He smiled back to Russell, loping casually behind, with a condescending air in his voice. "Kids."
The circle they formed on the grass to smoke dope in had a big new member, and he appeared to join in with the others. There were many "yeah man"s, and "cool man"s, and even a few "dude, man"s littering the general conversation, but then again, this is California. A lot of the 'kids' had been sent North to Sacramento for college, and it showed.
One girl, 'Sassy', who was a real Joan Jett lookalike, had been poking and jibing at Ethan all evening like he was her new toy. Being that she was properly baked, she had no idea the truth was exactly the opposite. She was one of the few who had earned the night of hedonism by busting her ass during the week, so Russ decided early that he'd make every effort not to kill her.
"Kiss me." She blurted after a few minutes, to a raucous round of laughter from the group. But it wasn't like others weren't already indulging themselves. Russell did, but as he moved to her neck to make it a kiss with a capital K, she flopped back to the ground as though the evening had finally caught up with her. There was a snicker or two, but Russ just looked to the others and offered a shrug before leaning down to fang the inside of her thigh. The ridiculously short denim skirt she was sporting made it easy enough for the rest of the gang to assume something much more intimate, and by her reaction, she probably couldn't tell the difference either.
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