The Last Song

22 Marcus

Marcus watched them from a distance. So that’s the way it’s going to be, huh?

Screw it. Screw her. It was time to party.

Teddy and Lance had picked up the booze, and people were already arriving. Earlier, he’d seen a family of vacationers packing up their piece-of-crap minivan with their ugly dog and even uglier kids at one of the houses not three or four down from Ronnie’s own piece-of-crap house. He’d been around long enough to know that the next rental wouldn’t start until tomorrow, after the cleaners came, which meant that all he had to do was get inside and the place would be theirs for the night.

Not so hard, considering he had the key and the security code. Vacationers never locked the door when they went to the beach. Why should they? It’s not like they ever brought anything but food and maybe a few video games to the beach, since most of them stayed for only a week. And the out-of-town owners-probably from someplace like Charlotte and tired of fielding calls from the security company when the idiots who rented the place set off the alarm in the middle of the night-had been kind enough to post the code right above the security pad in the kitchen. Smart. Real smart. With enough patience, he’d always been able to find a house or two to host a party, but the secret was not to abuse their opportunities. Teddy and Lance always wanted to party in these kinds of places, but Marcus knew that if he did it too often, the management companies would get suspicious. They’d send the managers by to check things out, they’d tell the police to make frequent rounds, and they’d warn the vacationers and owners. Then where would they be? Stuck down at Bower’s Point, like they usually were.

Once a year. Once a summer. That was his rule, and that was enough, unless he burned the house down afterward. He smiled. Do that and the problem was solved. No one would even suspect there’d been a party at all. There was nothing like a big fire, because fires were alive. Fires, especially big ones, moved and danced and destroyed and devoured. He remembered setting fire to a barn when he was twelve and watching it burn for hours, thinking he’d never seen anything more incredible. So he’d lit another one, this time at an abandoned warehouse. Over the years, he’d set a bunch of them. There was nothing better; nothing made him higher than the power he felt with a lighter in his hands.

But he wouldn’t do that. Not tonight, because his past wasn’t something he wanted either Teddy or Lance to know about. Besides, the party was going to be something. Booze and drugs and music. And girls. Drunk girls. He’d have Blaze first and then maybe a couple of others after that, if he got Blaze ripped enough to pass out. Or maybe he’d hook up with some dumb little hottie, even if Blaze was sober enough to realize what was happening. That might be fun, too. Oh, he knew she’d make a scene, but he’d just ignore her and have Teddy or Lance kick her out. He knew she’d come back. She always came back, begging and crying.

She was so damn predictable. And she whined all the damn time.

Not like Miss Tight Little Body just down the beach.

He’d been trying hard not to think about Ronnie. So she didn’t like him, so she wanted to spend time with Richie Rich, the brake shop prince. She probably wasn’t going to put out anyway. She was probably a frigid little tease. Even so, he couldn’t figure out where he’d gone wrong with her or how she’d seemed to see right through him.

He was better off without her. He didn’t need her. He didn’t need anyone, which made him wonder why he continued to watch her or cared in the slightest that she was hanging out with Will.

Of course, that made the whole thing a little more interesting, if only because he knew all about Will’s weak spot.

He could have some fun with that. Just like he was going to have fun tonight.