All That and a Bag of Chips

Chapter 21

"Cops!" Collin called out. "Cut the music!"

When no one responded, he crawled on top of the dining room table and stood. The stereo system was along the far wall near the television. Someone had burned a CD with songs from the show and right now, Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard was blasting through the speakers.

"Hey!" Collin tried again, waving his arms. "Cut the music!"

He caught Diana's eye, and he pointed at the swirling siren lights on the ceiling. She was in the middle of the living room and got over to the CD player and turned it off.

The crowd barely reacted; the buzz of conversation was still loud. Sam, however, noticed, and stepped out of the kitchen area. When she saw what was going on, she walked over to the panel of light switches and turned the dimmer up. The sudden shock of bright light was more effective than the lack of music.

"Everyone, shut the fuck up! The cops are here!" she scolded, and then headed down the stairs.

Diana made her way through the crowd to follow Sam. Kris and Jody also appeared and headed downstairs towards the front door.

Collin found Heather's eyes from across the way. She pointed to an invisible watch on her wrist and shrugged her shoulders. Her prediction had come true. He nodded, conceding that she had been correct, and then trailed down the stairs after his roommates.

Two cops in full uniform stood on the front stoop, their cruiser was parked parallel in front of the driveway, lights flashing.

"Need us to turn it down, officers?" Sam asked, taking on the role of spokesperson and using the voice that probably got her out of being grounded when she was in high school.

"Are you serving alcohol at this party?" asked the first cop, a tall and sturdily built middle-aged man with tanned features and a blonde goatee. His eyes scanned the cigarette butts and discarded red solo cups that were scattered on the walkway.

"No, sir," Sam responded with a flutter of her eyelashes. "We've only provided soft-drinks and snacks."

The second officer, a tall younger woman with a dark braid down her back, looked at her partner. "Do you believe that, Jones?"

"I don't know, Garcia. I bet if I picked up one of those cups and smelled it, we'd have probable cause to search the premises."

"We can't control if people spike their own drinks, officers." Sam was really trying to turn up the charm.

As they all stood there, streams of people poured out from around the side of the house, having exited through the back door into the yard.

"Quite the turnout," Garcia remarked.

"Doubt the fire marshall would be happy," Jones quipped.

Collin did his best not to roll his eyes at this ridiculous blustering, but he kept his mouth shut.

Sam tried a new approach. "We tried to shut it down earlier, officers, but people just kept showing up. Got beyond our expectations."

The cops exchanged a smug smile. "Do you need help clearing the place?" Jones asked.

"Because if we have to come back here," Garcia added, "you'll be getting more than just a citation."

"Citation?" Sam asked. "Can't this just be a warning?"

The cops laughed. Literally laughed. "You can expect a citation in the mail," Jones said matter-of-factly.

After the cops walked back to their cruiser, Collin made his way back inside. "Party's over!" he announced. But it was unnecessary. The great exodus was well under way and the only people left in the common areas were people who he recognized.