Sandra’s Party

I stood at the threshold of the large room where Sandra’s illicit party raged in all its sickening glory. That was to me at least, many of her sycophant so-called friends oozed about, their scatterings of high-pitched giggles and posh laughs only made my stomach churn, wishing to be away from here right this moment.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t leave, not at this moment. Somewhere, lurking about like a sleezy streak of slime was a killer and I had to keep them from getting their grimy hands on Sandra. I caught a glimpse of the rich-boy Latino wannabe studs prancing about heads cocked back, aloft and kissing air, a major Yuck in my book. Around another group of warbling co-eds passed Gene and his small but influential BMOC’s; jocks and wannabe campus beacons the waif of cheap colognes mixing ever so nauseating around them testing more of my patience then the thought of death lurking in the wings.
How could she want a party like this, I wondered as I took myself further into the press of people. Instinctively I worked my way over to Sandra’s favorite spot in this room; a wide-open window looking out across the grounds allowing a majestic view of the rolling hills and orchards bathed in the orange and muted hues of purple and blue as the sun made its way down behind the horizon.
A perfect time for someone to abscond with Sandra. Some smooth talk, or an invite to more fun and games, bang! In an instant the family Chesterfield’s darling child would be a lost memory.
Not on my watch.
Several elegantly clad ladies from the Mire and Muse society flittered by, skipping and dancing happily white silk robes flapping about. One of them draped a sleeve across my face, grinning as she let out with a melodic trill. It cut short as she caught the dark sneer etched deep on my face. In the flash of the instant this irritating excuse of a siren was gone, and I moved on until I finally caught sight of the one person who mattered more to me than anyone else in the world.
She lounged on a long Romanesque couch, graceful legs stretched out casually while chatting with the congregation of people surrounding her. More hangers-on, students, hollow friends and mishmash of her Barbie clique droning on without pause while gulping down Maiti’s, daiquiris, and drinks without pause.
Sure, rich and desirous, couldn’t Sandra at least reign it in a bit. I mean, she knew how important she was to the family, but this show of recklessness went far above the norm.
Did she want to die?
A slim looking man was leaning in close to her now, oily black hair pressed down tight and back into a mullet. He was saying something I couldn’t hear, seemingly pressing Sandra about something. She grinned then her eyes caught mine.
“Danny!” she exclaimed, rising to greet me. Her bright tone belied the relief in her, a warm light kiss planted to my right cheek.
“Sandra, you need to be more careful,” I whispered into her ear…