Oblivion

Prologue

"They're underage, sir. It's policy that I only give alcohol to legal applicants." The workers gruff and proper tone snapped me away from my daze, only causing me to glance around at the people who sit around me in mild shock. I tilted my head to the side, shifting my weight to lean against the table in frustration; once again I pried my eyes into the under payed worker who refused to comply with my wagers. He gulped, "I mean, it isn't my rules it's your -"

"My parents. I know," I sharply said, changing my direction of interest from Xavier to my parents who chatted with another well dressed couple from across the room. They all lightly laughed, as mine chuckled with a fake smile attached to the end of each sentence. It seemed to become a reflex to them, that their phony grin has become an annual reaction to almost anything that doesn't revolve around them. "Well get them wine anyways, and get us — what do we want? Rum, right?" I asked my friends, glancing choppily to see each excited face nod in greed.

Xavier was frozen, holding his pen against the surface of the paper without writing anything. It took a couple of long, patronizing seconds for him to realize who exactly he was trying to argue with before he regrettably stabbed the orders on the notebook. The people at my table cheered and roared, and I slyly withdrew my smolder and replaced it with a false grin when Sam slug his arm limply around my shoulder.

As the waiter moped away to head back to the steel doors of the kitchen, Sam pulled my body near his and talked in my ear. "You didn't loosen up on the poor lad, huh?" He joked, intentionally mimicking my accent which only made my chest vibrate with laughter. Sam used the hand that rested on my shoulder to pat my chest, "I think you may get something in return from the girls," He said with hunger, and pointed in the direction of the girls who already started to pour the expensive wine in their glasses.

I shook my head in utter disgust, looking away from the rambunctious teenagers. "Sam, they're probably sixteen," I reminded him, as I ran my fingers through my slightly gelled hair. "Which means you're desperate." He rolled his eyes dramatically, and yanked his arm back to his side in offense.

Hours passed surprisingly quickly when the alcohol arrived at our table, and three glasses of rum later I still continued to watch people. Nearly every guest was well worn in their place by then, as they swayed on the dance floor with a slight buzz in their body. The music from the grand piano in the corner of the room played more loudly now that everyone's chatter couldn't be heard, even including the odd bits of conversation that bounced around my table lessened. I checked the watch that adorned my wrist, and then surveyed my intoxicated friends who tried to stay awake, but didn't say a word to one another. 

I even bothered to glance at the table that once held the animated girls, but they were gone and migrated to the center of the dance floor where they danced with each other. I rolled my sleeve up to check my watch again, trying to read the time but my heavy, drunken eyes were too wobbly to catch the numbers on the analogue clock. Ignoring my sense of detection, and possible direction, I glanced shamefully around the room for a worker I could pester. Sam softly snored beside me, his head planted on the table where he slept next to the empty bottle of rum. I then proceeded to look out of pure boredom, for anyone who had to talk to me.

My jumpy eyes scanned the crowd of clustered people, but I couldn't find anyone in a velvet, vomit green colored vest. And it immediately clicked to my mind that they were all hiding away in the kitchen, behind those silver doors I knew they were all lounging now that everyone was drunk and well off.

I stood sluggishly after I managed to hoist myself up, my body felt weighed down as if bricks were in the pockets of my dress pants. Once I was firmly in place, without the help of the table and Sam's chair, I staggered off in the direction of the kitchen. It was a journey to get even halfway there, because of all the bodies and girls who clung their hands into my shoulders in attempt for me to stay with them. In someway, I didn't stop to say hello, and even when I passed my nagging parents I continued to wobble past them despite their verbal efforts.