Chapter 17

The bass shook the house, as they reached the front door. The usually quiet street was so packed that cars were parked crookedly across the lawn. Nothing like a gathering of rowdy teenagers to shake up a neighborhood.

The boys took a private breath, before the door swung open. "Hey, Philip, Chloe! Hey, Shawn, Belle!" greeted the tipsy stranger. "Come on in!" She led the way to the bedroom, which was the designated coat closet and pointed out the locations of bathrooms and bar. "Well, come on. Show off your costumes and have fun!" Then, the girl swaggered off, when she heard the doorbell ring again.

Philip helped Chloe shed the cloak and was staggered again. Her wings fluttered with the slightest breath. When she flashed those sparkling blue eyes at him, he wondered when he could get her alone.

"Philip?" she said, giggling while he stood there, looking bewildered. Obviously, he was still uncertain about his costume. She smiled and began to unbutton his thick wool coat.

He came to his senses and seized her hands. This was one of those rare times that he had a problem with a girl unbuttoning anything. "Uh, Chloe…" Here he was. On the precipice of reigning stud of Salem High and on the jagged rocks below, utter humiliation.

"Yes?" Unconsciously, she leaned in, so he could smell that lavender now laced with something sultry and devastating.

Sighing in defeat, he squeezed his eyes shut and let her finish unbuttoning his coat.

"Oh, Philip," she said softly and had him opening his eyes. "You look so handsome."

He couldn't help but smile. He didn't understand how a getup with shoulders thick enough for tackling and a cravat puffy enough for an airbag could turn chicks on. But if it could make a titanium tough cookie like Chloe swoon, then what the hell.

Chloe felt her heart swirl in her chest. She was sure he didn't know how dashing he looked. She smoothed the intricate gold and white fabric that accentuated his fair coloring and wide, athletic frame. The snug pants and high boots that made him tower. The antique medallion that added that final touch of royalty. He was every girl's fairy tale. Her prince.

To his surprise and delight, she leaned in for a kiss. Rarely did Chloe ever initiate a public display of affection. She was a very private person, and he always felt privileged to be allowed into corners, which were barred from others. When her arms wrapped around him for a warm hug, he sighed. In comparison to this, what was a little humiliation, anyways?

Then, Philip glanced over at their friends and nearly collapsed into laughter. Before the stunning blond Lois Lane stood a very uncomfortable, impossibly red faced, and ridiculously spandexed Superman.

Shawn looked up to face his buddy and growled, "Not… one… word," he enunciated with more doomed than menacing eyes.

"Hey, guys!" called out a tall Indiana Jones, muscling through the crowd to his friends, who had just emerged from the coatroom.

"Hey, Jase," chuckled Philip, "Awesome whip."

Jason shrugged at the long leather cord looped around his shoulder. "Dude!" he bellowed, when he saw Shawn. "Up, up and away!" Then, he folded over, holding his sides, laughing hysterically.

Shawn groaned, "Ha-ha. I think I'm going to need a drink," as he led Belle toward the bar.

"So, when'd you get here?" asked Philip, pulling Chloe closer to his side, when a herd of football players in togas squeezed by.

"About half an hour ago," answered Jason, while appreciating the legs of a well-proportioned nurse. "That cheerleader's bringing out jello shots in a bit. You guys wanna head over to the bar?"

"Sure," shouted Philip over the booming music. Then, he remembered Chloe's extra appendages. "We might get to it later."

It was then that Jason also noticed the wings attached to her back. "Gotcha. Well, I'm gonna head over now. Want me to bring something back?"

"Thanks, Jason," replied Chloe.

He nodded, but before he could leave, she took hold of his sleeve and said over the music, "Have you seen Mimi?"

He blinked and then shrugged. "Naw."

"Well, I guess we'll be on the lookout for bright pink then," said Chloe with a smile.

He shrugged again and then maneuvered through the crowd toward the bar.

Philip turned her in his arms. "Uh oh, what's going on in that head of yours?"

She slid her arms around his neck. And batted her eyes. "Wanna dance?"

"Chloe Lane…" he cautioned, letting her lead him to the dance floor.

Lara Fabian's hyper-fast "I will love again" faded into 'N Sync's slow "I promise you." So, he pulled her close and swayed to the music. He was reminded of that magical night, when she blew him away in a shimmery red dress that clung to every curve and her hair in a waterfall of curls. She'd been the most beautiful girl that he'd ever seen. And that night, for the first time, she'd shown the world a glimpse of the real Chloe Lane.

His hands slid along her hourglass figure, while his eyes fixed on those delicate wings, fascinated. Then, he looked up and noticed a short matador dancing with a tall and busty Viking diva nearby. Moving his lips to her ear to share the laugh, his eyes narrowed, when he noticed a tall boy in a conductor's tux standing off to the side. He wore a ghastly white mask concealing his upper face, but his cocky smirk was apparent. Then, he raised his chin in challenge. Philip's muscles tensed. Somehow, the stranger seemed to be looking straight at him. Then, the Phantom disappeared.

"Philip?" asked Chloe, pulling back a bit to look at him, "Is everything alright?"

Looking into her sapphire eyes, he smiled. In reply, he rained kisses along her cheek down her neck and paused at her locket, reassured. "Yeah, beautiful. Everything's fine."

Popping a round of lemon-lime jello shots into his mouth, Jason leaned against the bar. He had to chuckle, as an embarrassed Shawn spoke with Belle and a group of her fellow cheerleaders. His buddy had to be the shyest superhero in history, seeing the dude gripped his cape around himself like a security blanket. Man, and Jason thought the K-Man was whipped. No way Phil would've gotten roped into that. Though, the prince outfit was pretty bad, Jason admitted. He shrugged. Oh, well, another loss for masculinity.

He smiled appreciatively, when a bubbly red genie bumped and ground flirtatiously before him. Like the great archeologist and philanderer, he tipped his hat to her. She waved a long gossamer hanky at him and tilted her head upstairs. Feeling the telltale alcoholic warmth spread from his belly up to his brain, he pushed himself upright, intending to take her up on her lecherous invitation. Then, he heard a squeal, and suddenly his lips were captured by a curvy mermaid with pink seashells.

"Oh, Jasey! I've been looking all over for you."

He watched the genie with regret, as she quickly drew the attention of a sailor and disappeared into the crowd with him.

Jason shrugged and worked up the sottish energy to smile at the Little Mermaid. She was practically crawling onto him.

"Hey, Jase!" His teammates called. They dressed as gelled, zoot suit gangsters armed with plastic Uzis. "You gotta see this, man. Webster's so shit-faced. He's on top of the piano singing 'Sesame Street' with some dude's blow-up doll. Come on, man. You gotta see this." Without waiting for assent, they each grabbed an arm and shuffled him toward the action. Little Mermaid was left pouting, before a cute doctor with a stethoscope offered her a drink and a checkup.

Jason never laughed so hard in his life. Webster, the starting Salem High short-stop, who dressed as Chaplin, sashayed atop a grand piano and belted out a children's tune, while the blond blow-up doll rode his back. Partygoers surrounded the improv stage and cheered him on. Where the hell was a camcorder, when you needed one?

The music changed, and Eminem sought the real Slim Shady. The room grew warm and stuffy from the bustling activity. His mouth dry as a desert now, Jason started moving through the crowd for something to drink. He paused for a moment, when he saw the pink tail of a Playboy bunny. The pretty brunette turned and winked at him with hazel eyes. He smiled and then resumed his quest for something to cool him down. Finally, he reached a table and poured himself a cup of punch. His eyebrows rose, when he saw a lanky Tarzan slyly pour something into the punch bowl. He'd raised his finger to ask him what that something was, when his eye caught a trio of gleaming red, pink, and white sequins. The Las Vegas showgirls were gossiping in the corner. Meanwhile, a white-bearded boy dressed in a staid suit with a big cigar hit on a Scandinavian milkmaid.

Man, thought Jason. Tonight was sure one weird night.

He looked over to see Prince Philip and his angel on his lap, mooning over each other, probably taking a break before heading to the dance floor again. On the other side of the room, Superman Shawn was looking on, as his Lois Lane swallowed her first sex on the beach shot. Grinning, Jason took off his hat to fan himself with it. He played with his adventurous accessory a bit and then set it cavalierly on his head.

A second later a buxom platinum blond stumbled against him and his shirt was soaked.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she quickly said, putting aside the two now empty cups and grabbing a napkin in a feeble attempt to dry his shirt. Her strapless hot pink dress hugged every curve.

Behind her, Venus and her beau apologized for bumping into her.

Buzzed, Jason took in the beautiful girl before him and laughed. "No big deal, sweetie."

"Sweetie?" the voluptuous Marilyn Monroe repeated, evidently confused, and looked up. And gasped, "You."

Jason blinked and looked at those big brown eyes that were starting to fire. "Wait a minute… Mimi?"

"Mimi?" Jason nearly rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"Yeah. And what are you supposed to be? A lion tamer?" she retorted, refusing to fidget, when his eyes burned a trail from head to toe and back up again.

"What is that? A wig?" His mouth first open in awe, then split into a grin, when she batted away his outstretched hand.

"Hello? Newsflash. This is a costume party. I'm wearing a costume," she said smartly, now completely unconcerned about his shirt. Her slender gloves were pink, as well. Those ill-tempered hands settled defiantly on pink hips, unknowingly making her lush figure that much more provocative.

He merely smiled. The vodka and rest of the bar's wide selection had reached his brain and took off every possible edge. "That mole's sexy," he said, running his thumb over her lips, before Mimi could react. "You gonna sing us a song, Marilyn?"

She raised her chin and ignored the tingle, where his hand touched her skin. "I think you've had one too many kegs, Jase. Anyway, I have to get back to my date. So, if you'll excuse me…" She turned back to refill the two cups with punch.

"Your date?" he asked incredulously. Since she'd decided to ignore him, he reached out to turn her to face him, when someone approaching from behind called out her name.

Mimi turned with a smile at the tall, lanky boy dressed as a Marine. "Hey, Brian."

"Thought I'd come looking for you, when you didn't come back with the drinks." He threw an affectionate arm around her shoulders. "Mission accomplished, I see."

"Getting through the crowd was crazy." She handed him a cup and took a long sip out of hers. Then, she saw Brian look at Jason with some curiosity. "Oh, Brian O'Connell, Jason Welles. Jason and I have American History together. And Brian and I are in Drama Club."

The boys shook hands. They each looked at one another and downed some punch. When the silence became uncomfortable, Mimi said, "Well, Brian, you feel like dancing?"

"Sure," he replied with a good-natured smile. "Nice meeting you, Jason."

Jason nodded and watched the two head to the dance floor. He polished off his punch, while he meandered across the room. He tipped back his hat and stared, as her hips moved to the beat. Then, she laughed, when the Marine picked her up and swung her around. Suddenly chilled, Jason brought the rim of the cup to his mouth, only to discover that it was empty. He crushed the cup in his hand and threw it at a potted plant. Tearing his eyes from the satin pink, he stalked off. He needed a serious drink.

"Hi," smiled a buff Samurai, "You wanna dance?"

Resting her feet on the coffee table, Chloe smiled in return and shook her head. "Thanks, but I have a boyfriend."

Moderately disappointed, the stranger took one last approving look, before he moved on.

Chloe wiggled her tired toes and sighed. Her glass slippers sat on the floor beneath her. She'd plopped down on the comfy loveseat, after the last Jessica Simpson song and a group of Philip's various teammates enveloped him in their nearby circle to grunt and howl. She was grateful for the break. Despite how remarkably gorgeous the shoes were, they had zero cushion. Another fairy tale whim dispelled.

"Hey," Philip said.

She looked up and smiled. Now, here was a real life fairy tale. "Hey, yourself. Is all right in the world of men?"

He grinned and squeezed himself beside her, then indulged in a long, thorough kiss. He drew away to run a thumb over the well-concealed bruise on her cheek. "Now, it is."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "You know, this celestial being thing is not as easy as it looks," she commented, wiggling her toes again.

"What?" he grinned, "Those feet can't keep up with us mortals?" He moved to sit on the coffee table and shifted her feet to his lap. "You know," he began, playing with her toes, "I hear foot massage is a big turn on."

"Oh, really?" Her eyes grew heavy, as they often did from his touch. When his thumb lightly grazed her instep, she burst into giggles.

"Uh, that's not exactly the reaction I was looking for…" His lips pursed, but his eyes twinkled.

"Philip!" She giggled again, her wings fluttering behind her. This time she tried to extract her feet. "Stop," she laughed, "That tickles."

"Man, you really know how to pump up a guy's ego." He shook his head, then shrugged, grabbed her feet, and tickled her mercilessly.

"Philip, stop!" she laughed, so much now that her eyes teared. In defense, she reared up and tried to tickle his sides.

"Hey!" he jumped, when her nails found his weak spot. "Ok," he chuckled, "Now, it's war." With a gentle tackle and special care for the wings, he pinned her across the loveseat. She laughed and laughed, as he tickled her brainless. "Give up?"

Her chest heaving and cheeks red, she raised a smug chin. "You don't scare me, Philip Kiriakis."

His grin spread from ear to ear, and he resumed the assault, until they were both out of breath. Then, quite intentionally, he collapsed on top of her.

"Philip!" she gasped, while she weakly beat his back. "You're crushing me!"

He chuckled and flipped to switch positions and landed them both on the floor. They only laughed harder, oblivious to other partygoers observing, then whispering to one another. "And this is without alcohol," joked Philip.

She grinned. "Speaking of that, I'm really getting thirsty."

He reached up to smooth back a strand of her hair. "You want a beer or something?"

"No," she chortled, "I think we're silly enough, as it is." She rested her chin on her wrists, as she looked into his eyes.

"I saw some punch somewhere. That should be sober enough for you." He beamed up at her, perfectly happy exactly where he was. He sighed, when she gave him a chaste peck and settled back on the loveseat to brush off her skirts.

"Hey, K-Man," greeted Jason, unsteady on his feet. "What're you doing on the floor, man? You wasted?"

"Hey, Jase," answered Phil and rolled gracefully to his feet. "Naw, I was just about to get us some drinks. Why don't you keep Chloe company?"

Jason shrugged with a glass of hard liquor in hand and sat himself on an adjoining chair.

Phil exchanged a look with Chloe, so that she understood that really Chloe would look after intoxicated Jason for a bit. She nodded and looked at their friend in sympathy.

"So, have you seen Shawn and Belle around?" she asked, after Philip disappeared into the crowd.

He burped. Her eyebrows rose. "Yeah, I saw the Man of Steel and Belle with some cheerleaders a while ago." He took another sip of the dark yellow liquid.

"How about Mimi? Did you happen to see her anywhere?"

His upper lip sneered, "Yeah. She and her date were hooking it up on the dance floor."

"Date?" she pondered aloud, "I don't remember her mentioning a date."

He downed the rest of his drink and let the glass drop with a dull thud to the carpet. "Yeah. That's what she said. Some skinny drama dude. Bobby… Bert… Barf…"

"Brian?" she supplied.

He threw up his hands in a drunken stupor. "Something like that."

"Ah." Chloe sighed. Obviously, these two loved their little games. Jason would be referring to the cute, but harmless Brian, who asked for Mimi's help to match up with a fellow drama club member tonight. The pep of Britney Spears was followed by the sultry sounds of Destiny's Child. Forever blunt, Chloe waited a beat, before she ventured, "So, what's up with you and Mimi, anyway?"

Too far gone to care, he rested his head over the back of the recliner. "Nothing's up. That's how she freaking wants it, so that's how it freaking is."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "How do you want it?"

He flung his hand toward the ceiling in confused frustration. "I told her that I liked her. Then, she threw it back in my face." He rubbed his hands over that mistreated face. "Can't believe I freaking told her that I liked her. What the hell was I thinking?"

"You mean," her mind raced to put speculation with observation together, "At Philip's pond the other day? You told her you liked her? Just like that? Straight out?"

"Yup," he sighed, his arms hung lifelessly toward the floor, "Like a dumbshit, I told her how I felt, and she threw it back in my face. Fine. Fuck it. She wants it like that. Whatever. There's other fish in the sea, ya know?"

Chloe shook her head. Mimi had practically admitted on numerous occasions that she liked Jason. Then, Jason surprisingly was upfront with his feelings for her. So, what's the problem? Why all this unnecessary drama? Sure, Jason had the reputation of a player, but he seemed like a decent enough guy, when one got to know him. He'd been a loyal friend to Philip and Shawn. He'd walked Mimi home, like a gentleman, and he could possibly nurture talents outside of the sports arena. All in all, an interesting and likeable guy.

He was a lot like Philip actually - the Philip, she'd first met a year ago. Athletic, well pursued by streams of females, and valued his reputation, as stud and big man on campus. But like Philip, who really knew the person beyond the hype? Philip had certainly been a pleasant and blissful surprise. So, whose to say Jason didn't have that same potential? Mimi might do well to at least give him the chance to be her friend.

When Jason belched, Chloe frowned. Then again…

She shook her head. This was none of her business, and it would be smart to stay out of it. Nothing was worse than a nosey and unwanted matchmaker. Well, maybe an "item potential" wrecker, as the case may be.

Chloe sighed once more and looked around. She wondered how long Philip would be. Maybe he could do better at consoling his downhearted and inebriated friend.

"Finally," Philip huffed, as he spotted the punch bowl at the corner of the dining room.

He'd stopped by the dance floor to see Shawn and Belle giving the audience another impressive dance routine. Of course, most of the crowd, including himself, guffawed at his red and blue spandexed friend spinning Belle across the shiny floors. Philip definitely needed to borrow a camera from somebody. This blackmail was just too good to pass up. With any luck, the photographer from the school newspaper would get some candid shots. They'd make for some damn good reading on Monday.

He filled a plastic cup with punch. He'd already grabbed his beer from the bar. He turned with both hands full and nearly collided with Barbie.

"Sorry about that," he smiled at her eye-popping Hawaiian outfit, and then tried to pass her.

"Hey, aren't you Philip?" She leaned in to showcase her well-endowed chest, wrapped in a miniscule bikini.

"Uh, yeah," he grinned, accustomed to girls' forward advances.

"I'm Laney. Listen," she stepped closer to run a finger down his chest, "You wanna dance?"

He smiled. "Thanks, but I have a girlfriend." When she only cocked a wispy brow and looked like she was about to pounce him, he called his teammate over, "Hey, Roge! Come here a sec. There's someone I want you to meet." When his friend joined them, Philip said, "Roge, this is Laney. Laney, this is Roger. He made twenty-six rebounds in the first half-hour of our playoff game last season. See you guys later." Then, he escaped into the crowd.

He headed back toward the lounge, when someone stepped gruffly in front of him.

"Lose your girlfriend, Kiriakis?" asked a face, partially obscured by a white mask. The electric blue eyes radiated hostility. "I guess you'd better get used to that."

Recognizing the voice, Philip's muscles tensed, but his exterior remained unperturbed. "I should have known it was you, Brady."