The Kiss of '89

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2“And this will be your primary station. It’s all pretty self-explanatory. Keep an eye on the register, pass out quarters, clean up vomit, you get the gist.”

“Right.”

“So? Any questions?”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so.”

“Great. If you need me, I’ll be in the back. Give a shout.”

“Will do.”

Barney, the manager at Game City Arcade, gave Wes one last encouraging smile. He was nearing his thirties, though had the acne of someone in their late teens, and possessed all the social graces of a newly born giraffe. But for Wes, at least for the summer, he was the boss. Though if he was being honest, Wes was probably a little too harsh on the guy. After all, he was the only person in town who’d offer him a job after the news broke barely two months ago. The name Henry Peters was no longer associated with weekend cookouts or chaperon volunteer hours at swim meets. Now, it had only one association: bank fraud.

Wes sighed deeply and rested his elbows on the counter. Already, that black polo shirt was starting to itch, but he ignored it. Game City Arcade was a hot-spot year-round, but it was especially busy in the summer. Located to the left of the food court, its wide-open doors led to a central floor carpeted exclusively in black and neon. At last count, there were almost fifty different cabinets and games, from classics to cutting edge. Wes remembered when it first opened. He and his friends spent countless weekends and hundreds of dollars in quarters just for the chance at a high score in Missile Command or Donkey Kong. Now, he was stuck behind the curtain, watching as countless kids made those same memories without him.

It was going to be a lonely summer.

For the next few hours, Wes was left alone to handle the arcade. This included, but was not limited to: breaking up three fights over Arkanoid, fishing out a bottle cap from the pinball machine, wrangling the same lost ten-year-old five times to the same irate parent, and counting out more quarters than he’d ever held in his hand at one time. Barney did occasionally pop out to check on things, but judging by the smell of his office, Wes was safe to assume he was more or less on his own. Sometime around three P.M., the activity on the floor dwindled, and Wes had the chance to put his head down at the front counter and rest his feet.

“‘Scuse me. Hello? Could I get some change?”

“What?” Wes lifted his head, unaware that a dime had stuck itself to his brow. It clattered to the counter as he straightened up. “Hey, yeah, sorry.” He went to the till to exchange the offered bill out for quarters when he did a double take. The girl at the counter was about fourteen years old, give or take, with almond eyes and two long, black braids. Other than the mouth full of braces, Wes was struck at once with familiarity. “Wait a minute…Macy? Macy Kwon?”

“Huh?” Macy’s eyes drifted down to the handwritten name tag on Wes’s shirt. “Wes? Is that you?”

“Hey!” Wes held out his arms, as if to present himself. “When did you get back into town?”

“We just moved back into our old house,” Macy explained. “Dad’s contract ended in Chicago and…Wait a minute, why are you working at an arcade?”

“Ugh, long story.” Wes changed out Macy’s ten for a huge stack of quarters and dollar coins and then leaned forward on the counter. “But look at you, huh? It’s been, what, three years?”

“Just about. Are you still babysitting?”

“s**t, I might have to,” Wes mumbled. “Though you’re probably too old for a babysitter these days. Still might be short enough for one, though.”

“Oh my God, gag me, Peters.” Taking her coins, she tossed them into a pouch and zipped it up before stuffing it into the pocket of her overalls. “Still going heavy on the hair gel, I see.”

Wes self-consciously put his hand to his glorious quaff of hair. “Don’t be jealous.” He grinned and leaned forward on the counter with excitement. “So, what’s up, what’s been happening? You back for good or is this just a stop in for the summer?”

“No, I’m back-back,” said Macy. “Mom’s already got the paperwork started to get me into Clearwater for sophomore year.”

Wes let out a low whistle. “Already in high school. Geeze, you goblins grow up fast.”

“Yeah? What’s that make you, a dinosaur?” Wes bared his teeth and Macy laughed, her nose crinkling. “Yeah, okay, Wesliasaurous.”

Wes fell into a somber smile. “It’s good to see a friendly face these days, Macy. A lot’s happened recently.”

“Like what?”

Wes winced. “Let’s just say I’m not the King of the Spring these days.” The horrible sound of a six-year-old retching interrupted their conversation, and Wes scowled. “Ah s**t, vomit alert. Hang tight, I gotta clean this up.” Grabbing some supplies from the broom closet, he headed over to the Mario cabinets and proceeded to clean up the half-digested pizza off the carpet. The culprit in question was at least being taken care of by his mom, leaving Wes free to do his job.

Macy poked her head out from around a game and shuddered. “Uch. I don’t know how you don’t vom around that stuff.”

“Hey, nothing compares to that night you got food poisoning on my watch.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

When he was done, Wes took out the bag of hazardous waste to a back can and washed his hands in the drinking fountain. “Well don’t let me keep you, Mace. Go enjoy those quarters, and maybe we’ll catch up after my shift.” With a spring in her step, Macy scurried off to spend her riches on a Saturday of fun, leaving Wes alone at the counter.

Wes got off shift around five. With it being Saturday, the mall was still open for a few hours more, which allowed him and Macy to grab a corndog at the food court. All the while, Macy went on about her time in Chicago, about some of the friends she made, but how nice it was to be back. She’d always been a talker, ever since she was nine years old. Wes was pleased to note that some things never changed. Wes grabbed them each a dog a piece and sat down at a far table near the back of the food court. Lately, Wes had found himself subconsciously drifting to less conspicuous areas in any given room. No wonder as to why. Taking his corndog in a boat, Wes squirted an entire packet of mustard onto the shell and took a bite. It was the first real thing he’d had to eat all day.

“Mm.” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “That’s a good dog.”

Macy dove hers into a puddle of ketchup and took a bite herself. “So, what’s been happening with you?” she asked. “Babysitting on the side is one thing, but I never thought I’d see Wesley Peters take a part time mall job.”

Wes shook his head. “Like I was saying earlier. A lot’s changed.” Macy questioned him with a look, and Wes sighed. “My old man’s in prison.”

Macy’s eyes widened. “Mr. Peters? Why?”

“Fraud. Turns out, he’d been skimming off peoples’ interest at the bank and pocketing it. Had been for years, and from like half the town.”

“Holy shit.”

“Right? That’s bad enough on its own, but after the news story broke, it’s like the whole world went up in flames. Scholarship? Gone. Team captain? Not anymore. House got sold, car got sold…Honestly, I’m lucky I made it to graduation with the clothes on my back.”

“Are you…like…are you okay?”

Wes forced a smile. “Yeah, Mace. It’s been rough, but I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Yeah well, I am. So there.” He took another bite of his corndog. “Me and Mom, we’re getting through it. She found a secretary job to tide us over for the time being.” Still, Macy didn’t look convinced. She stared at her corndog with a furrowed brow, and Wes felt a pang of guilt. He nudged her foot with his under the table. “Hey, chillax, kid. Things could be worse.”

“How?”

“Well…you’re back, for one thing. If you hadn’t moved back home, I’d have zero friends instead of just one.”

“Jesus, that’s sad.” Wes could respond with nothing, and so instead, stuffed his face full of corndog. After they finished eating, Wes brought the boats to the trash can, only to be momentarily distracted by some familiar voices. He looked up to see Larry speaking with a group of former cheerleaders next to the Orange Julius.

“…so, bring what you can, but we should have enough booze to go around.”

“Who’s all going to be there?” asked one of the girls.

“Just about everyone from Clearwater,” Larry replied. “Word got out a couple days ago, so now everyone will be there. I even heard some guys from State will swing by.”

“Is there a party happening?”

Wes spoke before he realized he shouldn’t. His voice nearly made half the girls jump, and all eyes turned to him. Larry, being the last one to look, did so with a distinct discomfort. Wes flattened down the back of his pants, almost in a nervous tick, before clearing his throat. “Hey, Larry.”

“Hey Wes,” Larry responded with a forced smile.

“So, uh…” Wes stepped a little closer to the group. Some of the girls turned away to whisper, but Wes ignored it. “Did I hear that right? Is there a party happening?”

Larry hesitated. “Yeah man,” he said. “Tonight, at my place.”

“Oh. Oh, killer.” Wes nodded, trying to regain that easy smile he once had in high school. It came out more like a grimace, and he shifted from foot to foot. “Well, uh. It sounds…it sounds fun.”

“Yup,” said Larry awkwardly. A pause lingered between them. “Did you uh…Did you…want to…?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Wes answered, far too quickly. “When’s it start? Should I bring anything? I can see if I still have some tapes if we need music. You know, I make this killer Chex-mix that I could bring—” One of the girls, audibly, scoffed in disgust, and she and her friends walked away. Wes felt that little light of joy die with their departure. He shrank in on himself and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Er…on second thought. Maybe I’ll just…stay home. Kinda tired after work, you know?”

Larry floundered. “Oh…uh…no it’s chill if you come. Really.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

“Nah, nah. It’s fine man. It’s…it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Totally.”

Wes recaptured his smile. “Okay, righteous. I’ll swing by tonight. Thank you, man.”

“Yup,” Larry repeated. “See you, uh…” Without finishing his sentence, Larry wandered off. With a quick goodbye to Macy, Wes was out of the mall as fast as he could to make the bus home.

* * * *

Wes hadn’t been nervous about a house party since he was thirteen. Back when he was pimply and gangly and his voice was still cracking. Back before he figured out how to do his hair, or what clothes looked best, or how to talk to the ladies. Wes had always been an outgoing kid, so once he found his groove, parties came naturally. Which was why, standing out in front of Larry Jefferson’s house, Wes was surprised at how badly his guts were squirming. It was eight in the evening, and already the party was bumping. Wes could hear the overpowering boom box through the closed windows of the house. Cars and bikes were parked haphazardly all over the street, some even on the lawn. Larry must not have been kidding when he said all of their high school had found out about the party. A cursory glance let Wes pick out at least ten people he recognized off hand. The minute he stepped anywhere near that house, he’d be a walking billboard.

Wes took a deep breath to settle himself. You got this, prom king, he thought. That’s right. His dad might have f****d up, but he was still Wesley Peters. And any minute now, he was going to step off that curb and march his ass into that party like he belonged there. He just needed to take that first step. Which he was planning on doing. Soon.

A laugh caught his attention. He craned his neck and saw another familiar face speaking to a group of girls. Lisa Bird was in her usual cardigan and granny-skirt, her hair done up in a high ponytail. His throat went dry, but for a different reason. With a whole new wave of determination, he forced himself to cross the street, his hands in his varsity jacket pockets.