Free Payback by Francine Pascal

who had a line of coke or some real alcohol.
    Wait, no. Not anymore. This was good, clean fun night. As much as she wanted drugs, as much as her body craved them, she was determined to follow through on her promise to herself.
    It didn't matter, anyway, right? At this moment she d settle for the stimulation of a lot of chocolate and a good game of Twister.
    Mary made her way down a freshly painted hallway, pausing to listen at doors as she went. Nothing. Nothing. Moaning. Fighting. Nothing. Obviously Gaia hadn't gotten her message and had been intelligent enough to recognize lameness run amok when she saw it. Maybe it was time to go home and relax with Conan and a really big pillow.
    Suddenly a burst of loud laughter made Mary jump, and a slow smile crept across her face. Finally. She fluffed her long, curly red hair, straightened the shoulders of her black leather jacket, and pushed through a large swinging door.
    The kitchen was huge. White. Immaculate. There was a raucous group of testosterone-high guys standing in the corner, bent over the table. One of them seemed to be taking notes in a big, cloth-bound book. No one noticed her.
    This was obviously some kind of meeting. She obviously wasn't supposed to be part of it. That obviously meant she was going to stay for as long as possible. Mary tiptoed past a sparkling butcher block and ducked behind a counter. Perfect view of the guys, but they couldn't see her unless they were looking for her. Or the dog food that, from the smell of it, she was hiding behind.
    "What about you, Charlie?" the guy with the book asked, rolling his pencil end over end between his fingers. "Add to the grand total?"
    "Only one tonight, gentlemen," the Charlie guy answered. He was one of those guys who was totally aware of how good-looking he was, thus making him entirely unattractive. There was a round of disappointed, jeering "ohs" from the crowd, and a bunch of the guys laughed. Charlie held up his hands and backed up a step, smiling the whole way. "Wait, wait, wait. She's a Big Ten."
    The "ohs" turned to "ooos." Impressed glances all around.
    "This I gotta hear," the note keeper said, leaning back in his seat and pushing up the sleeves of his off-white sweater. His beady little eyes were shining with interest, piquing Mary's own. Charlie was obviously a big manly man among the manly men.
    Charlie looked around, as if checking to see if he had the full attention of his audience. Once satisfied, he opened his arms and gave a little bow. "Heather Gannis," he said with false modesty.
    Mary knew Heather. If she was a big anything, it was a big bitch.
    "No way!" some kid in a hideous lounge shirt shouted, thrusting his arm down like a kid who'd just been picked last for kickball.
    Charlie grinned. "And boy, can that girl move." More laughter, catcalling, and applause from the crowd. Bad shirt guy shot an icy glare at Charlie from the other end of the table, never taking his eyes off the victor as he took a long swig from his bottle.
    Mary felt her face go red as the reality of what these guys were discussing sank in. The disgust mixed with the pungent aroma of the dog food made her stomach crawl.
    "You got a confirm on this?" Notebook Boy asked, his pencil now poised over the open page in front of him.
    A short kid in the corner raised his long-neck bottle of beer. "I saw them go in, and she looked very happy when they came out."
    "Five points for Charlie," Notebook Boy said, making a note in his tome with a flourish. "For bagging a Big Ten."
    "To the Big Ten!" the short guy yelled. He was answered by a chorus of echoes, more applause, and another bow. That was when Mary couldn't take it anymore.
    "Was it your total lack of decency that brought you guys together, or do you all just have really small penises?"
    There was a brief, confused silence as Mary stepped out from her hiding place and into full view in the middle of the kitchen. A few jaws dropped and a few sets of eyes narrowed before anyone