“Jesus Christ, you kids can’t even fully comprehend a goddamn text message, and those were made for your short-ass attention spans. I wrote the text my damn self, and y’all are still waking me up. Were the directions not clear? The party is in the cluuuuubhoooooouse out back. Park in the paaaaaarking lahhhht. Do you know what a parking lot is? It’s not my fucking driveway. Jesus, Lord of Nazareth, you kids.” She closed the door.

Theo and Apollo walked back to the car, the moon lighting their path. “Damn, their house has a parking lot,” Apollo stuttered.

“Dude, their house has another house,” Theo answered. Theo started the car and drove back toward the fork, turning around and going right instead of left. Giant manicured pine trees lined the road leading to the clubhouse, indifferently penetrating the sky.

Theo parked in the filled lot, still in awe of the estate, his jaw limp. The clubhouse was smaller than the main house, but much less humble. Two artificial waterfalls flanked the front door, cascading into shallow pools that were dug into the porch. Even more miraculously, there was no splashing.

° ° °

The house lacked blinds and curtains, so Theo and Apollo had a clear glimpse of the ambient mirth just beyond the door. Postured bodies filled the rooms, their movements bizarrely intentional. This was a pro-flex zone. Surprisingly, no sounds were escaping the party.

Apollo rang the doorbell then stuffed his hands back into his shorts. No one answered. Apollo twisted the doorknob. It was locked. All of this damn open-access opulence and they still managed to lock the door. Apollo didn’t feel it was an accident.

“Looks like we finally found a door even the great Apollo can’t open,” Theo teased, bending forward, arching his back, and erratically moving his fingers, mocking Apollo’s typical posture when he typed.

Apollo coughed out a weak laugh then pulled out his phone to call Kai. She didn’t answer, but she texted him immediately. “At a party. Zed is still mad at you. Don’t call her.” Reluctantly, he tried Sol. She probably doesn’t even have my number, he thought.

“Speak.”

“You know who this is?”

“No, I’m just disrespectful to everyone I talk to.”

“You know, it’s not really sarcasm if it’s true.”

“What do you want, Apollo? I’m not a fucking operator. If you want to talk to Zed, call her.”

“But she won’t answer.”

The line clicked off. Apollo turned to Theo and shrugged. Theo pounded on the door, his last resort. Moments later, the door swung open, inundating the porch with music and light. A beefy white guy stepped into the doorway, his body so thick that both the light and sound seemed to diminish in his presence.

“Twenty dollars,” he announced, crossing his arms.