Bret Ellis - Less than zero

"It's me," I tell her. "Clay."

She takes the bag off her head and smiles and tells me that she had the hiccups. There's a large dog at Blair's feet and I lean down and stroke the dog's head. Kim comes out of the bathroom, takes a drag off the cigarette Blair was smoking and then throws it on the floor. She turns the stereo back up, some Prince song.

"Jesus, Clay, you look like you're on acid or something," Blair says, lighting another cigarette.

"I just had dinner with my mother," I tell her.

The dog puts the cigarette out with its paw and then eats it.

Kim mentions something about an old boyfriend who had a really bad trip once. "He took acid and didn't come down for six weeks. His parents sent him to Switzerland." Kim turns to Blair, who's looking at the dog. The dog swallows the rest of the cigarette.

"Have I dressed down enough?" Kim asks us.

Blair nods and tells her to take the hat off.

"Should I?" Kim asks me, unsure.

"Sure, why not?" I sigh and sit on Kim's bed.

"Listen, it's early. Why don't we go to the movies," Kim says, looking in the mirror, taking the hat off.

Blair gets up and says, "That's a good idea. What's playing?"

The dog coughs and swallows again.

We drive to Westwood. The movie Kim and Blair want to see starts at ten and is about this group of young pretty sorority girls who get their throats slit and are thrown into a pool. I don't watch a lot of the movie, just the gory parts. My eyes keep wandering off the screen and over to the two green Exit signs that hang above the two doors in the back of the theater. The movie ends really suddenly and Kim and Blair stay for the credits and recognize a lot of the names. On the way out, Blair and Kim spot Lene, and Blair grabs my arm and says, "Oh, no."

"Turn around, turn around. Lene is here," Kim says with this urgent voice. "Don't tell her we saw her on MV3 today."

"It's too late." Blair smiles. "Hello, Lene."

Lene is too tan and only wearing faded jeans and this totally revealing Hard Rock Cafe T-shirt and she's with this really young blond boy who's also too tan and he's wearing sunglasses and shorts and Lene shouts, "Oh my God. Blair. Kimmy."

Lene and Blair hug each other and then Lene and Kim hug and pretend to kiss each other's cheek.

"This is Troy," Lene says, introducing the young guy.

"This is Clay," Blair says, putting her arm on my shoulder.

"Hi, Troy," I say.

"Hi, Clay," he says.

We shake hands, both grips kind of limp and shaky, and the girls seem pleased.

"Oh my God, Blair, Troy and I were on MV3 today! Did you watch it?" Lene asks.

"No," says Blair, sounding disappointed, glancing at Kim for a moment.

"Did you?" Lene asks Kim. Kim shakes her head.

"Well, I couldn't see myself. Actually, I thought I saw myself once, but I wasn't too sure. Did you see me, Troy?"

Troy shakes his head, checks his nails.

"Troy was on it, but they missed me and I was dancing with Troy. Instead of getting me, they got some Valley bitch dancing next to Troy." She pulls out a cigarette, looks for a lighter.

"Maybe they'll repeat it and you can look more closely," Blair says, almost grinning.

"Oh yeah, for sure they'll repeat it," Kim agrees, grinning, looking Troy over.

"Really?" Lene asks hopefully. I light her cigarette.

"They rerun everything," Blair says. "Everything."

We never get to Nowhere Club. Kim gets lost and forgets the address and so we go, instead, to Barney's Beanery and sit there in silence and Kim talks about her party and I shoot some pool and when Blair orders a drink, the waitress asks for I.D. and Blair shows her a fake one and the waitress brings her a drink and Blair gives it to Kim, who drinks it down fast and tells Blair to order another one. And the two of them talk about how bad Lene looked on MV3 today.

Trent calls me the next night and tells me that he's feeling depressed; doesn't have any more coke, can't find Julian; having problems with some girl.

"We went to this party in the hills last night..." Trent starts and then stops.

"Yeah?" I ask, lying on my bed, staring at the TV.

"Well, I don't know, I think she's seeing someone else.... " He stops again. "We just don't have it together. I'm bummed out."

There's another long pause. "Yeah? Bummed out?" I ask.

"Let's go to a movie," Trent says.

It takes me a little while to say anything because there's a video on cable of buildings being blown up in slow motion and in black and white.

On the way to the Beverly Center, Trent smokes a joint and mentions that this girl lives around the Beverly Center and that I look a little like her.

"Great," I say.

"Girls are fucked. Especially this girl. She is so fucked up. On cocaine. On this drug called Preludin, on speed. Jesus." Trent takes another drag, hands it to me, and then unrolls the window and stares at the sky.

We park and then walk through the empty, bright Beverly Center. All the stores are closed and as we walk up to the top floor, where the movies are playing, the whiteness of the floors and the ceilings and the walls is overpowering and we walk quickly through the empty mall and don't see one other person until we get to the theaters. There are a couple of people milling around the ticket booth. We buy our tickets and walk down the hall to theater thirteen and Trent and I are the only persons in it and we share another joint inside the small, hollow room.

As we walk out of the theater, ninety minutes, maybe two hours later, some girl with pink hair and roller skates slung over her shoulders comes up to Trent.

"Trent, like, oh my God. Isn't this place a scream?" the girl squeals.

"Hey, Ronnette, what are you doing here?" Trent is completely stoned; fell asleep during the second half of the movie.

"Like hanging around."

"Hey, Ronnette, this is Clay. Clay, this is Ronnette."

"Hi, Clay," she says, flirting. "Hey, you two, what flick did you see?" She opens a piece of Bazooka and pops it into her mouth.

"Um... number thirteen," Trent says, groggy, eyes red and half closed.

"What was it called?" Ronnette asks.

"I forget," Trent says, and looks over at me. I forgot too and so I just shrug.

"Hey, Trenty, I need a ride. Did you drive here?" she asks.

"No, well yeah. No, Clay did."

"Oh, Clay, could you please give me a ride?"

"Sure."

"Fab. Let me put these on and we'll go."

On the way through the mall, a security guard, sitting alone on a white bench, smoking a cigarette, tells Ronnette that there's no roller skating in the Beverly Center.

"Too much," Ronnette says, and rolls away.

The security guard just sits there and takes another drag and watches us leave.

Once in my car Ronnette tells us that she just finished singing vocals, actually background vocals, on Bandarasta's new album.

"But I don't like Bandarasta. He's always calling me 'Halloween' for some reason. I don't like to be called 'Halloween.' I don't like it at all."

I don't ask who Bandarasta is; instead I ask her if she's a singer.

"Oh, you could say. I'm a hairdresser, really. See, I got mono and dropped out of Uni and just hung around. I paint, too... oh gosh, that reminds me. I left my art over at Devo's house. I think they want to use it in a video. Anyway..." She laughs and then stops and blows a bubble and snaps her gum. "What did you ask me, I forgot."

I notice that Trent's asleep and I jab him in the stomach.

"I'm up, dude, I'm up." He sits up and unrolls his window.

"Cla-ay," Ronnette says. "What did you ask me. I forgot."

"What do you do?" I ask, irritated, trying to stay awake.

"Oh, I cut everybody's hair at Flip. Oh, turn this song up. I love this song. They're gonna be at The Palace on Friday. "