Page 8 of Brendan (The Doherty Mafia)
Kissing Brendan Doherty was like tasting freedom again.
Four years ago, I wasn’t supposed to go to Mia White’s house party. I was supposed to be at home, working on a college essay that needed to be submitted the next Monday. And usually, I was known to be the girl who would skip a party to stay home and finish her homework.
And a part of me wished I did. Another part of me knew that if I never went to that party—I wouldn’t have experienced the night I was about to have. And there were lots of things that were special about that night.
My friend, Petra, forced me to go. When at first, trying to emotionally blackmail me into going with her for moral support didn’t seem to work, she told me how people thought I wasn’t cool enough. That I was ashamed of myself for being a bad drunk, which was why they apparently thought I never showed up at these parties.
I didn’t want to believe her, but I also wanted to prove her wrong.
Yeah, sure, I wasn’t a big drinker. I never truly enjoyed those parties where everyone just got drunk and high and ended up sleeping with each other. But that didn’t mean I didn’t know how to have fun, right?
So, I put on the most sparkly dress I owned. I grabbed a pair of heels and blow-dried my hair, then we were out of the door. My mom was actually a little excited that I was going to go do ‘normal’ eighteen-year old things.
Mia White’s house was large and lavish. She lived in American suburbia, and even though this was New York, her family still had a pool out at the back of the house. Her folks were away for the weekend, and it was only natural that Mia invited everyone she knew.
Someone handed us a joint the moment we walked in through the door. I’d never smoked weed before but Petra had, and she showed me how. It took a full fifteen minutes for the effects of the weed to show up. In that time, I had already drunk through half a can of beer which I hadn’t enjoyed.
But the weed calmed me. It soothed my nerves and smoothed all the edges. Petra wanted to dance. Everyone was dancing everywhere. On the stairs, on the family dining table, out by the pool.
Petra grabbed my hands and pulled me to the backyard. I wasn’t much of a dancer. Usually, I felt too self conscious to do something like that, but that night I didn’t care who watched. That night was all about letting loose.
Petra and I danced together and I finished the can of beer. It didn’t taste as bad anymore, now that I was enjoying myself. I had to admit—it felt like I’d been missing out by not going to these parties. I was actually having fun.
Then, as Petra and I danced to music I had never heard before, I looked through the doors into the house and saw Brendan walk in.
He walked in looking slicker than any guy had ever looked before. I was eighteen and he looked older, although he couldn’t have been that much older than me. But he had a whole entourage with him.
Brendan walked in with his dusty brown hair styled in a quiff and a leather jacket. All heads turned to him and his gang. But it was pretty obvious that nobody was looking at his friends. All eyes were on the handsome tall guy who smoked a cigarette as he stood there by the front door.
Even the people who had been dancing and chilling out by the pool craned their necks to look.
Petra voiced my thoughts before I could get them out.
“Who is he?” she asked a girl who was standing near us. She was one of Mia’s close friends, so she seemed like a reliable source.
“Brendan Doherty,” the girl said in a zombie-like voice, walking away from us, almost like she was in a daze.
We watched as Mia went running up to Brendan with plastic cups of beers in her hands. They were her offerings to him—she was giddy and giggly like she couldn’t believe her luck that he would grace her home with his presence.
“Looks like an important guy,” I said to Petra. She was transfixed by him too. “Do you know who that is?”
Finally, Petra was able to break away from the spell and she looked at me. Her eyes were all glazed too, which I assumed was from the weed.
“I’ve heard of him.”
“He wasn’t in school with us, was he?” I asked.
“I don’t think he ever had the need for school. He’s a Doherty,” Petra replied. She tracked him with her eyes as he went around the house, shaking hands with people who drooled after him.
