Lunar Park - Bret Easton Ellis [27]
“Jesus,” Jay muttered. “They’ve thought of everything, haven’t they?”
Our conversation had not deterred Sarah.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetie? Why aren’t you up in bed? Where’s Marta?”
“Terby’s still mad.”
“Well, who’s Terby mad at?”
“Terby scratched me.” She held out her arm, and I squinted in the purple darkness but couldn’t see anything. This was exasperating.
“Robby—take your sister back upstairs. You know she needs her usual twelve hours and it’s getting late. It is now officially bedtime.”
“Then can I come back down?” he asked.
“No, you cannot,” I said, noticing that half his margarita was gone. “Where’s your friend?”
“Ashton took a Zyprexa and then fell asleep,” Robby said blankly.
“Well, I suggest you take one too, buddy, because tomorrow’s a school day.”
“It’s just Halloween. Nothing’s going on.”
“Hey, I said it’s bedtime, buster. Jeez, kids demand so much attention.”
“Daddy!” Sarah shouted again.
“Honey—you’ve got to get in bed.”
“But Terby’s flying.”
“Okay, well, you’ve got to put him to bed too.”
Robby rolled his eyes anxiously and kept sipping from the margarita. Something got stuck in his teeth and he pulled a green spider out of his mouth and studied it as if it meant something.
“Terby’s angry,” Sarah whined, pulling on my guitar until I knelt down at her level.
“I know, honey,” I said soothingly. “Terby sounds like he’s a big mess.”
“He’s on the ceiling.”
“Let’s get Mommy. She’ll get him down.”
“But he’s on the ceiling.”
“Then I’ll get a broom and knock Terby off the ceiling. Jesus, where’s Marta?”
“It tried to bite me.”
“Maybe it wants you to brush your teeth and get into bed.”
Suddenly Jayne was behind me and above me, talking to Jay, but I couldn’t hear their conversation because of the music. They both looked down at me with accusatory expressions, and when I motioned to her she excused herself from Jay and, as I stood up, Sarah still clutching my hand, gave me a withering look. I suddenly realized I was waving a cigarette around and sweating profusely. The room was so packed with people that we were practically crushed together.
“Are you okay?” she said, but it was a statement, not a question.
“Sure, honey, why wouldn’t I be okay?” I sniffed loudly. “This is one rockin’ party. But your daughter—”
“You’re very talkative and sniffly.” She was glaring. “And you’re sweating.”
Sarah tugged on my arm again.
“That’s because I’m having fun.”
“And look, all around us, half the college showed up and is already inebriated to the point of unconsciousness.”
“Honey, you’ve got to deal with your daughter—her doll’s freaking out on her.”
“People are complaining that the music’s too loud,” Jayne said.
“Only your friends, chica.” I paused. “Plus I can hear you perfectly fine.”
“Chica? Did you just call me chica?”
“Look, if you don’t want to be sociable and can’t be tremendously cool about how to throw a party . . .” I found myself absently fondling a bowl of candy corn.
“There are students in our pool, Bret.”
“I know,” I said. “What? They’re swimming.”
“Jesus, Jay’s wasted and so are you.”
“Jay does calisthenics,” I said indignantly. “He doesn’t get wasted.”
“What about you, Bret?” she asked. “Do you get wasted?”
“Look, being America’s greatest writer under forty is a lot to live up to. It’s so hard.”
She gave me a scathing look. “I marvel at your courage.”
“Will you deal with your daughter, please?”
“Why don’t you deal with her?” she said. “She’s holding your hand.”
“But who’s going to greet the mystery guests and—”
Jayne walked away midsentence and started talking to someone dressed as Zorro, who was in real life a runner-up on last season’s Survivor.
I dragged Sarah over to Jayne and said, “Listen—will you take Sarah back up to bed?” I asked, no joke.
“You do it,” she said without looking at me.
A moment later, after noticing I was still there, she added, “Get lost.”
But Sarah wouldn’t go back to her room—she was too frightened, so Marta escorted her to ours. The cocaine was flowing through me as the Ramones were singing, “I don’t want