The air was a bitter, biting chill; the kind of chill that sent daggers down the spine and came with the near constant feeling of dread and unease. It was like walking down an empty street in the dead of night and every little gust of wind carries with it the sound of potential predators ready to strike from the shadows. Darkness lined the way forward, broken only by the piercing illumination of dimly lit lanterns hung about the walls. The atmosphere felt oppressive, like the route ahead invited only bad news. Nothing about this felt good and nothing about it felt welcoming. The only warmth found was from within, and even that was being drained away by the cold, damp, oppressive masonry. Touching the walls brought a moisture that was far from pleasant, but with the rather poor conditions and lack of natural lighting it was the best way to forge a path. Careful fingers followed the stone, leading the unsure scamper of footsteps with it.
Through the darkness the hand continued, until the wall suddenly curved, and with a single step forward light burst forth. This was no regular light, but flickering white-hot flames accompanied with a blinding flash. The room was like an arena, corpses lined the ground mixed with bones that were practically gone to dust. The foul substance on the walls was not moisture but fresh blood, as shown in the way the crimson splashes decorated the stone like an oil painting. And in the center of the room was the source of it, the darkness, the corpses, the blood, and the lingering sense of dread. A large, scaled, coiled tail the size of a manor-house began to uncoil, and revealing the figure of a nude woman, alluring to the right sorts, though ornamental jewels and braids of hair covered anything overly revealing. The woman had the porcelain, perfect skin of a goddess but the visage crumbled away to the truth underneath. Cracked, grotesque skin, sharp, snarling teeth, blood-red hair that seemed to glow as if aflame, and six arms each equipped with curved blades glowing white hot with rage and fire. Many had been seduced by the womanly figure only to realize too late what awaited them, and it was their blood that now lined these halls.
The titanic serpent woman bellowed, and in response a flaxen-haired, emerald-eyed armor-clad warrior unsheathed her sword, flanked as she was with an army of nineteen who had conquered their deepest fears to get this far. The flaxen-warrior responded with a warcry of her own, and charged ahead, meeting the swipe of a curved blade from the serpent with a swing of a heavy sword and a clang of a shield. Explosions rocked the air above the warrior, and the air grow colder from the chunks of ice being rained down. Another bestial roar from the smaller, shield-bearing warrior and the serpent woman responded in kind, bringing down all six blades in a heavy downward thrust. The warrior was knocked over, despite meeting the blades with her own. Seeing the warrior off her guard, the snake continued her assault, slashing at the warrior until she stopped moving. Another corpse to the pile. More blood to decorate the walls. And it wasn't long before the nineteen others found this pit to be their tomb. With the warriors dying breath, she was only able to say one final statement:
'WHAT THE FUCK WHERE WERE THE FUCKING HEALS?????'
That's a whole lot of new money. Snatch it then hide it from the 12. From sixteen years old, I'm whippin in kitchens, fuckin' my junkies.
Hana Park slammed her headset onto her desk and slid her chair away from the monitor. On the best of days she didn't like getting angry, it was better to save the aggression for things that mattered, but with softball being on the offseason there were few outlets remaining to her. It wasn't just anger, but general frustration at the level of incompetence they allowed in this guild. This raid wasn't difficult, Hana was there when it was a world first clear, she, that is her character, got to be posted on the forums of the game. It was a cool concept for a dungeon, too, based on the seven deadly sins and all leading up to the lustful malarith demon whose six swords were infused with the previous six bosses - who each had their own sin themes - but it was hard to enjoy it when she was surrounded by noobs. Part of being in a known raiding guild and being one of the officers and raid leaders meant having to babysit hopeful members through trial runs. After all, if someone wanted to raid with the best, they had to show they could handle the pressure. And as she looked at the meters, she saw a fair few names that would not make the cut. Any idiot playing a healer knows that when the tank pulls aggro as the malarith does its Six Blade Staccato attack that you put down a restoration circle so after soaking the damage the tank can be brought back to full for the next cycle. Child's play.
After saying her piece to the absolute abysmal auditions, she logged off and powered down her computer. It was New Years Eve and she wasn't about to spend it alone playing computer games. Not when she had appointments to keep. The young woman stretched her arms and made her way to the dreadfully small closet. One downside of living with her sister compared to with her parents was the smaller closet space. She didn't have a walk-in at home, but at least she could feel good about it. Here, in a modest apartment, it was like the closet at a Motel Six, just without the hooker stains bringing down the resale value. Living with Abby was good for Hana. It allowed her to feel more independent than if she lived under the ever watchful parental eye; not to mention that Abby was a bit more understanding of a guardian. Abby was a teenager once, and though Abby never got invited to parties she was aware that they happened. Even Abby's position with the Beverly Hills Police Department didn't come with a convenient memory wipe about teens and their behaviors. While Hana's father might refuse to let her attend what was sure to be the biggest party of the year, Abby was more willing provided that Hana 'be home before one'.
It was unlikely that would happen, but Hana liked to tell Abby otherwise. To facilitate trust and all that.
Parties were not exactly Hana's favorite thing in the world. There was something inherently off putting about people acting stupid and making asses of themselves while also presenting like a mandrill. It was, frankly, embarrassing and shameless. However, parties were also the greatest source of income. Sure, she earned money almost daily, but there was nothing quite like a party to bring out the big spenders. Students wanting to do a line in the bathroom or take a little happy pill or whatever their poison was. No doubt they learned it from their parents, the corporate lawyers and CPAs of the world. Hana was of course happy to provide these for them, and the beauty of drunken idiot teens was that they weren't aware of the money they were spending to get their fix. It wasn't their money anyway, why would they care. Tonight was no exception, of course, only it was a bit of a special circumstance. While no one at school 'knew the identity of the best dealer' everyone also knew that Hana had the hookup and that secrecy was vital to the business. So when Henry fucking Green approached her a few days ago with the idea of Hana having an open door policy at the New Year's Party (to which she was, of course, invited) she was certainly intrigued. Henry put forth the notion similar to buying the party a round. Ten thousand dollars and an agreement not to dabble in dealing weed at the party and Hana had agreed. Paid up front so any party goer who wanted something harder than Green's green just had to seek her out.
Ten thousand dollars does a lot for one's disposition. Ten thousand dollars ensured that Hana would suffer the assclownery. Did that make her a prostitute? A drugstitute? It didn't matter. She was lining her pockets on the idiocy and that afforded her a certain bit of superiority. If she was a prostitute, she was one with class.
Of course, the problem now was stocking up for the party, which was starting rather soon. And that meant she had to make a stop on the way, one she was not at all looking forward to. A lamb walking into a den of wolves. Or, more accurately, a young woman walking into a home of lecherous perverts.
Sometimes she really hated her family.
For all her success, Maya Lin's house wasn't all that fancy. It was probably because the rapper-slash-activist-slash-coolest person in the world once went on record as saying anyone who flaunted their wealth with a 'bigass fuckin' house' might as well walk around with a shirt that says 'I have insecurities and premature ejaculation issues and fill the void in my life with money'. That particular interview went trending on Twitter and featured no less than five hundred basics on Twitter posting about 'how my qween slays yassssss so true'. When a community accepts you as an icon, though, every word was basically a gospel and that held true for Maya Lin, who got famous for her music but notorious for her televised rants about 'bougie inbred fuckbois'. Kenzie Lin never aspired to be like them, but when she was given platform after platform she found herself using it for more than repeating her rhymes. People called Kenzie 'Maya' Lin many things once she blew up, but no one could really call her a hypocrite because her house was nothing that any middle class family couldn't afford.
It was a nice two story place with a mailbox out front and a front porch with a welcome mat. It wasn't surrounded by celebrity homes so the paparazzi didn't camp outside of it hoping to catch a glimpse of its owner doing things any normal human does and in its garage wasn't a fancy sports car or limited edition import, but a simple four door sedan with good mileage. Of course the interior had its dip into the lavish with art hanging on walls, an entire glass cabinet dedicated to housing won awards, flatscreens mounted in the main rooms, a master bedroom with a walk-in, and a kitchen with marble counters, but Maya worked her ass off to make something when everyone thought she'd be nothing - even some of her classmates who now had their faces on every fucking park bench or headline - and she was allowed to have her little luxuries.
The house was spotless without the use of a help staff, which was a point of pride as far as Kenzie was concerned. Of course, it was easy for a house to remain clean when no one lived in it.
All I eat is bread and cheese. I wanna talk about it but I don't know what I mean.
Behind the Lin house was a backyard and were it not for one very specific thing it would be a completely unremarkable backyard. There was a fence, a rather sizable tree that once housed a swing, and a patio table for lounging on a sunny afternoon. There also just so happened to be a powder blue tent set up in the dead center of it, with a garbage bag just off to the right of its entrance flaps. The garbage bag in question was close to full up with items that were more likely suited for a recycling bin than a trash bag, but who had time to differentiate these days? And of course, inside the tent was a sleeping bag and pillow which lay atop an air mattress of discarded Welch's and Hi-C grape juice boxes, the kind little schoolchildren have with the bendy straws. This peculiar tent had one occupant who was no doubt as peculiar as the tent itself.
"GET IN THE STUPID BALL! STOP BREAKING OUT!" A high pitched shriek from inside the tent as its sole occupant was occupied with a handheld device currently playing a game that appeared to be about making animals and monster things fight one another. Parker Ashford was busying her time in her home, currently shouting in anger as the big stupid monster thing kept breaking out of her red and white colored ball. She'd been at it for about an hour now, and the supply of balls was dwindling. While one hand was busy pressing the 'throw ball at thing' button, the other was squeezing the last drops out of a juice box. Parker's skills at drinking the juice was such that the box was collapsing in on itself at the sides - she was mostly sucking up air at this point but she was nothing if not determined to get every last drop.
The box was discarded among its brethren as Parker began to kick her feet against her sleeping bag as the monster thing again broke free of its would-be home.
"STOP CHEATING! STUPID GAME!" Annoyed, Parker tossed the device against the wall of her tent. The screen went black as it tumbled to the ground and Parker sat upright suddenly. Strands of her blonde hair flopped in front of her eyes and she proceeded to occupy the next five minutes of her time by blowing at her hair and trying to see if she could blow some of her bangs behind her ears. The results were inconclusive, but the activity had brightened her mood from the cheating game anyway.
Parker, satisfied with her round of 'Hair Blower' reached into the little red cooler that took up a bit too much space - before it was moved to its current location directly to the right of Parker's sleeping bag, it was at the foot of the bag but Parker moved it not because she kept accidentally kicking it at night - but because she WASN'T accidentally kicking it. When she was trying to sleep she didn't need a stupid cooler reminding her of her height. It wasn't exactly a touchy subject, but she liked to be the one in control of how her height made her feel, not some inanimate object made for storing grape juice. As Parker reached into the cooler, her fingers didn't feel the familiar box of juice but the cold material at the bottom of the cooler and the bag of Lucky Charms marshmallows that Henry gave her for the holidays. She had eaten nothing but those since she got them and the bag was, at this point, about half full. But the fact that she only felt that meant one thing. The end was finally here. It was all over. She had had a good run but it was time to face the facts.
Parker was out of grape juice.
The reality of the situation was almost enough to make her cry, but she couldn't cry here. The tent was a no-cry zone. It was one of the only rules of the tent, the other being that any visitors had to bring something. Ideally a six pack of grape juice boxes. It was any wonder why she got zero visitors. No one really asked where she lived, not even her boss at the Diner who was just glad on the days when Parker didn't drop soda on the floor, or people at school. Her address was on the school record but when filling out the form Parker wrote her '7' like a '1' and her '3' like an '8' so any important notices from school had been going to the wrong home since her Freshman year. Some poor family was well aware of Parker Ashford's disruptions and her report card without even knowing who the hell Parker Ashford was. Not that it would matter even if the address had been written correctly. The mailman didn't come to Parker's house. Sure, he came to Kenzie Lin's house, when she wasn't having her mail held at the post office, but
Parker didn't live in
Kenzie Lin's house. She lived in Parker Ashford's Tent In The Backyard Of Kenzie Lin's House, and that was a subtle, but important distinction.
Inside of Parker Ashford's Tent was a problem, namely the distinct lack of grape juice. There were two options before Parker. The first was to go to the store and buy some, but the last time she went to the store she got lost on the way back home and wound up drinking all of the juice boxes she bought and it was a big waste of time. The second was to go to the Sunshine Diner and have one of her coworkers give her some. They did it for free even! The store was closer, but the Diner was free...and with the sun starting to go down a decision had to be made.
As if the universe itself was moved by this struggle, Parker flopped back down onto her sleeping bag, and from underneath the pillow slid out a glossy piece of paper. The paper caught the corner of Parker's eye and she rolled onto her side in order to read it. And the universe continued to bless its chosen child as in the moment Parker started to read the paper, the neighborhood streetlights flicked on - just as an idea popped into Parker's head.
"HENRY!" Parker practically jumped out of her tent. She had completely forgotten that he had mentioned something about a beach thing party whatever! The beach wasn't that far away and the little invite card said there would be 'drinks'! And Henry wouldn't tell her about it if she couldn't come! It was perfect! Parker opened the flap of her tent and crawled out onto the lawn. Her knees had grass stains on them but she didn't care. Her current attire, an Easter yellow t-shirt and denim shorts with sneakers and light pink ankle socks would suffice, dirt and grass stains on her knees and all. Parker set off at a run, leaving her tent behind and opening the back patio door of Kenzie's house. She ran through the kitchen and made her way towards the front door. As she passed through the living room, she passed by and stopped in front of a framed photo of Kenzie accepting her first music award.
"BYE, MOM! TALK TO YOU LATER! DON'T WAIT UP!" Parker spoke to the photo, waved to it, and continued on her way, leaving out of the front door, making sure to lock it behind her. And still Kenzie Lin's house was spotless as ever.
Maybe one day she'd come back to it.
What sort of bakery put out a fresh batch of bread so close to closing? Sure, the scent of freshly baked bread was often enticing enough to draw in customers with a full wallet and an empty stomach but how many were walking along this particular sidewalk so late in the day? In less than half an hour the place would be closed and wouldn't reopen for a week in accordance with holiday hours. Why, then, would they put out a fresh batch of bread if they weren't going to sell it? This particular bakery was a hidden gem of a place. Their croissants were better than ones in Paris - or at least that's what the advertisement board out front proclaimed; they certainly were good, that much was true, but it was their pastries that stole the show. There was something in the cream.
The decor was quite lovely as well. It had an urban sort of chic with brick walls and plants in the corners positioned in such a way as to make it seem like some of the greenery was growing through the cracks in the brick, much like the rare but beautiful image of a plant growing up through the sidewalk. The tables were ergonomic, or as ergonomic as could be when each one had the same circular shape with the same frilly tablecloth. The counter had a display case where they stored the freshly baked goods so customers always got the best bang for their buck - and one look at the pastries was often enough to make one’s sweet tooth quiver with anticipation and desire.
The quality of the pastries as well as the pleasant decor made this place particularly good for doing dirty deeds - it was hard to really feel bad when eating a decadent bite of a chocolate cupcake topped with a fresh slice of strawberry. That one was a personal favorite, and if it were an option just a plate of those strawberry slices would be ordered each and every time. Passing by the shop on a normal day was dangerous. It was next to impossible not to catch a glimpse of a pastry and stop in for an appetite-ruining devilish bite. Distractions, thy name were pastry. Or, in this specific case, a fresh loaf put on display twenty minutes before closing was distracting. Normally composure was essential and attention was like a laser, especially when it came to enjoying a chocolate cupcake with extra cream and a strawberry slice. Nothing had distracted from this treat before.
Not even the smiling, fidgeting girl across the table could distract from the delicious cupcake.
But the bread could.
Don't you know people write songs about girls like you? How would you feel if nobody chased you? What if it happened tonight?
This particular kind of scene wasn't all that new for Shauna Flynn nor the staff of the little bakery sandwiched inbetween an overpriced mini-mart and an overly-greasy burrito place. She'd been here many times over the past few years, to the point where the staff had started referring to her by name - and that same staff knew that if she ever showed up with a girl and ordered "two chocolate cupcakes, a bit of extra cream and a strawber'y on top, luvs" that it wasn't a cause for celebration. The menu, written on a blackboard in chalk, had an addition to it. That particular type of order, the double chocolate cupcakes with the strawberry, was known internally and in small chalk script as 'The Heartbreak Special'.
Shauna thought it was flattering.
The latest victim of the Special was seated opposite Shauna, though as of yet they remained oblivious as to why the staff had taken it upon themselves to have such an item. The girl was short, no taller than five-three, with curly brown hair and rather expressive cocoa brown eyes. She was not someone that would be setting records in gym class, but it was carried well and Shauna did rather like the way her thighs looked when laid bare. Certainly the girl felt something towards Shauna since she didn't even hesitate to agree to what she assumed was a follow-up date. The good thing about younger students, this curly-haired one being a sophomore - was that most of them hadn't yet heard the stories about Shauna. The true ones or the untrue ones. Particularly the factual statement that "Shauna Flynn doesn't do second dates."
"You've not much touched your cupcake." Shauna broke the silence first, after realizing that her focus on the fresh batch of bread wasn't enough for the sophomore across from her to get the message. After all this time still Shauna didn't like taking the initiative. Handling matters like this like a band-aid was preferable, but tearing off a band-aid still sucked no matter how it was done.
"Oh! I don't really like chocolate." Came the response, a bit of a squeak of excitement followed by the blush of realization. Shauna didn't acknowledge the response right away, taking the silence to spear a piece of cupcake.
"Is that right?" Shauna's response could not have sounded more removed from the situation. Her attention was split between the cupcake and the confusion about a loaf of bread. She couldn't care less about the increasingly awkward conversation which was start to resemble a slow moving traffic collision.
"Did you want something else?" "Oh, no, no it's fine. I'm just...I'm happy to be here. Like...like on a date." Shauna would've thought it was cute if it wasn't for the unfortunate implications. She could understand how someone might think this was some kind of date, given the time of day, the location, and the fact that about twelve hours prior to this Shauna and this sophomore had explored each other in an intimate, if passion-less, manner. Passionless from one of them, at any rate.
"You should really eat some of your cupcake. It's spectacular." Of course the reasoning for it had more to do with Shauna believing that a breakup, of sorts, was easier to swallow if it came on the back of something delectable. Who didn't enjoy a cupcake or any sort of pastry? Dessert made things better, from bad meals at restaurants to messy 'break ups' with girls that assume an hour of sex translated to a relationship. Shauna watched with a mild interest as Curly obliged and took a bite of the cupcake, catching the crumbs with her palm.
"This is really good." Curly said, unaware of the cream that lingered on her upper lip. It seemed to lighten the atmosphere, which was fine - though it surely wouldn't last. "Do you think we should bring some to the party?"
Shauna tried not to focus on the dollop of cream, which as it turned out was fairly easy given the somewhat ludicrous statement from Curly. Of course, Shauna knew about the party, she was privy to such information - one of the members of the Elite surely had nothing but nice things to say about Shauna and was probably reason enough why Shauna got on the lists; so the issue wasn't about the party but rather...
"What do you mean we?" Shauna put her little fork down and sat upright. This was where it was going to happen, and she could tell from the way Curly's hopeful smile cracked into a stunned, shocked sort of quiver. The band-aid was starting to be removed and the skin was agitated.
"The party? That the...that the Elite are throwing?"
"I'm aware of that much. My question was more to do with why you assumed we would be going together." Shauna tried to make her words sound less harsh, but the disinterested and matter-of-fact way she said it made that difficult, even with the lilting tones of her accent.
"You said I'd be your plus-one." Curly looked as if she was about to cry. That crestfallen look was one Shauna was used to, and it had little sway on her anymore. Like a band-aid. Eventually you just get used to the sting.
"I also said I'd only been with one woman before but obviously that wasn't true. People say many things when the goal is sex." The adhesive was pulled off the skin now; Curly had tears and was shaking her head, as if trying to convince herself that this wasn't happening. Shauna offered little in the way of apology, short of shrugging her shoulder.
"You're cute and all, but I'm not really looking for anything other than what we had." At this point, Curly got out of her chair and made for the door, with Shauna looking on with only a small, apologetic grin on her lips.
"You forgot your cupcake!" By the time Shauna called out, Curly had left the bakery.
With the staff looking on, and Shauna giving them a simple shrug, she returned to her dessert, spearing the strawberry, cream, and cake with the fork. The bite was divine. Shauna's eyes closed as she savored the trio of flavors. Worth it all. The monetary price and the moral one. Curly was fun, but Shauna couldn't show up to the party with someone on her arm; what a faux pas that would be, especially with the number of sure to be single and overwhelmed party guests that were sure to be looking to make the first big mistake of their high school lives.
Shauna stayed to finish her cupcake, though she was still wondering about the loaf of bread. It just didn't make any sense. Perhaps she would ask the staff before she left. There was a little bit of time before the party, no one really showed up right when the doors opened unless it was their first rodeo. Her confusion would continue as she enjoyed her latest Heartbreak Special. It was a shame that Curly left hers unfinished, those cost five dollars each and it was such a sham seeing perfection going to waste. Still, she wouldn’t let it distract from her own enjoyment. Nothing could take this enjoyment away from her, at least that was the idea. As Shauna took the final bite from her little pastry fork, savoring the winning combination, her joy was cut short as a sudden, jarring THUD hit the window, causing all inside to jump in their seats and for Shauna to nearly choke as her fork clattered down to the floor.
It was as if a bird had flown into the window, drawn by the scent of fresh bread. But it wasn’t a bird that had left a mark on the window. A bird would’ve had an excuse. Shauna could only stare, blankly, at what had happened, but there would be a silver lining to this sudden intrusion.
Her curiosity about bread was about to be answered.
The phone chirped through the noise, its simple tone drowned amongst the noise pollution just outside the windows.. Louder still than the alert tone of a droning guitar was the barking of a dog next door which had been quiet up until the past hour. The barking was a welcome change from the typical noise of a few houses down with its muffled rap music at all hours of the day. If it could be heard a few houses down, imagine what it was like on the inside. How anyone could think let alone carry on a conversation with that much noise was anyone's guess, but the point of fact is when the phone rang with the intent of alerting its owner, it was done so in vain. The cacophony was nothing new, if it wasn't the rap music or the dog it was lawn mowers or cars backfiring as they left the cul-de-sac. Suburbia was so picturesque in the brochures, but in this corner of the world 'suburbs' was just another way to say 'low income dumping grounds'.
The hot water was growing less and less hot, so the shower was turned off. Steam covered the mirror, and from the wiped away spot the reflection stared back, warped and distorted, a noticeable crack running along the length of it. The plumber said there was nothing wrong with the water heater, but that was after he took the check for eight hundred dollars for ten minutes of work; if it was running perfectly then why did the shower start getting cold after five minutes? One more thing to hate about this area. Even the public works people got their rocks off by milking the dregs of society dry. Eight hundred dollars was no doubt 'walking around money' to those who had the luxury of a pool and a working water heater, but those who make an honest day's wage know the real value of such an amount of money.
A few beer bottles clinked as they rolled along the hardwood floor, remnants of the previous night’s guests and their vices. The warmth of the setting sun would serve as a means of drying from the frightfully short shower. And still the phone was ringing - though as it became clear at a glance it wasn't someone desperately trying to make a phone call. The room wasn’t familiar, nor was the house. The previous night was spent mostly on the couch with trips to the kitchen for refreshments, but the occupants of the room were still sloppy enough to be around, as their unclothed bodies were sprawled out on the queen mattress. It seemed that Peter worked up the liquid courage to talk to Patricia after all, and it was either a whirlwind affair or Peter got drunk and passed out on top of Patricia. Either way made for a hell of a bar time story.
How did a phone get in here, on the floor among a pile of clothes? The ringing alert tone was a signature. At some point between sleeping on the floor - Peter and Patricia came in after the fact and their giggles and whispers made for an interesting alarm - and undressing to hop in the shower, the phone was left behind. The memory was coming back, there hadn’t been that much alcohol consumed. But who the fuck was pinging? No plans had been made and there wasn’t exactly a boss calling and demanding a shift be worked.
The guitar stopped as the phone was unlocked and the good vibes of the night before were instantly washed away on the tide of the current events.
"Fuck, was that tonight?"
Been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding. The cretins cloning and feeding. I wanna publish 'zines. And rage against machines.
Everyone heard about the party. It was hard not to with how fucking loud the Elite tend to be. According to the invites, cool kids were invited. The hot, but not the H.O.T.. The eyecandy but not I, Candies. It took some kind of nerve for the exclusive of the exclusive trying to curry favor by opening the doors to the masses, like kings hosting a little fete for the common folk. Sure the commoners get to live like a king for a day but when the sun comes up it's back to shoveling shit and being told to be happy to make just enough to buy bread and cheese.
Was there dissension in the ranks or was it more like the insecure little dicked trustfundies trying to flex nuts because some future adulterous hag didn't enjoy being paraded around like some participation medal prize? Roz Norcross, as she was known, didn't know much about money and excess but she knew enough to know that drama followed the student body of Beverly Hills High the same way gonorrhea follows cheap hookers like a plague. Her invitation to the shindig was probably lost in the mail. The idea of going to some beach house and watching as the attention whores forget about the 'attention' part of the moniker and the monkeys watch, clap, and throw their shit at the proceedings, was hardly appealing but...Roz had her click-happy drama whores to think about and if there was going to be a ground zero for drama, it would be at that beach house where the ocean would be a fucking desert compared to the ocean of thirst that was that particular congregation.
If there was one thing this student body enjoyed more than flexing it was the bodies of students. Money was their language but debauchery and needless drama their currency, and the Weekend Warrior would see it all through an unfiltered lens.
The problem, such as it was, was that Roz wasn't exactly invited. She had a plan, of course. Whoever was on door duty at this thing was probably none too bright nor any good at identities and at a gathering like this there was bound to be someone named Tiffany. What would he do? Ask for identification? Everyone bought into the idea that there was someone named Roz at their school so clearly no one cared all that much. The Tiffany Plan had gotten Roz into parties she was definitely not on the list for, and it was bound to get her into this one. Until she checked her phone coming out of the shower.
She was not alone in having her invite mysteriously not show up. Roz could count on one hand the number of people that she had the phone numbers of at school, and one of them had shot her a message. Olivia Lee was someone Roz could imagine punching out a bear and asking for more, which made her okay as far as Roz was concerned. It seemed strange that she wasn't invited. Weren't jocks given a free pass for this type of shit?
Roz picked up some clean enough clothes off the ground, making sure they didn't smell with a quick sniff and a spray of some perfume. Jeans. A denim vest. A faded shirt with an old band from the 1990s on it. The jeans and the vest were hers, but the shirt was anyone’s guess. She’d never heard of the Backstreet Boys but when had that ever stopped anyone from wearing merch; Roz wasn’t about to walk around outside with only a vest to cover her chest, that was more in line with the slags of the school who replaced personality with loose lips - and she wasn’t talking about the mouth. A glance in the mirror and a nod later and she was ready to go. Fly as ever.
On the way out, she gave the passed out man on the couch a slap on the ass that was hanging out of his half removed pants.
"Thanks for the shirt, Pablo." The drunken 'Pablo' didn't so much as stir, but it wasn't Roz's problem. She wasn't even there, if anyone asked. Most people on this block partied last night since they were working and couldn't afford to get hungover on the new year, and Roz was just being a good neighbor. One of the few neighbors to show up to Pablo's little soiree. Beer. Cards. Sports on the television. Homemade cubanos. No one caring that an underage girl was drinking with them. A real party.
Outside, Roz breathed in the stale air. The faint scent of gasoline and pot lingered as it always did. Salt of the Earth condensed into a suburban block that Roz called home. She knew everyone that lived on this block, from Pablo the carpenter to Maude the retired nurse who loved to tell stories about stubborn patients. These were her people. The real people. The ones who made the world actually run and got nothing for it. Her house was dead center in the ‘sac which gave Roz the sense of being something of a neighborhood leader. Her parents weren’t much for socializing so Roz made a habit of showing up at neighborhood events even if only to make an appearance. These were her people, after all, the ones who cut out coupons and bought their clothes from a Wal-Mart. Salt of the Earth, honest people. The people you’d want to save in an apocalypse because they could get shit done.
Roz was going to make a stop off at home, just to let her parents know not to wait up for her. New Year’s Eve and all. She unlocked her phone again and began walking up the sidewalk, drowning out the barking dog as best she could. She hated that thing. Cute as shit, but still annoying and snappy.
Roz responded to Olivia, saying she'd meet up. The Tiffany plan would probably have to be shelved if Olivia wanted to do dirt. As soon as she hit send, her forward momentum came to a hard stop. She had been walking and texting and hadn't seen where she was going, and her phone dropped to a patch of grass next to the sidewalk.
"Sorry." Roz murmured as she picked up her phone. Standing up and seeing who she wan into, she had to do a double take. She was in front of the house dubbed the 'Rap House' by those in the neighborhood given its penchant for blaring rap music at all hours. No amount of noise complaints seemed to make any difference. Roz had her hunches about what went on there, after all it was the one house on the block where the curtains were always drawn. The person she bumped into simply scoffed, said something about hate, and kept going, leaving the cul-de-sac with a pace that could only be described as 'suspiciously fast'. Roz watched the stranger leave as questions raced through her head. But really only one came to the forefront.
"What the fuck's a person like that doing at a fucking trap house?" The question would have to wait, as Olivia took priority. But it was a question she wouldn't soon forget.
The word of the day was...uncertainty. Everything about the night's events was coated in it. Uncertainty of place. Uncertainty of mind. Uncertainty of...well...everything. Clearly tonight meant a lot to certain people and that warranted a certain sense of decorum. The word party was thrown around fairly often along with 'rager' and 'banger' which were unfamiliar terms but the enthusiasm with which they were said implied that they were positive traits. Rage was a familiar concept, but it was never used for anything good. It must've been a difference in customs. There were several of those over the past two months and it had been overwhelming, to say the least. Two months seemed like such a small amount of time but once the jetlag wore out every day still had the tendency to feel oppressively long. In two months the only thing that had truly been learned was how much there was still to learn.
It hadn't been the easiest of transitions, and part of that had to do with the residence. Living in a penthouse atop a skyscraper was seen as a lavish lifestyle but the penthouse with an elevator for an entrance and exit paled in comparison to what could only be called a palace. The first weekend was spent getting lost on the way to the bedroom and the second wasn't much better in that regard. Two months later and the culture shock was still very much real. That might've been why tonight was so special for everyone involved, but in a different way for the newcomer. To everyone else, this was just any other party. A 'banger' as some put it. But it also represented the first opportunity in two months to actually learn something. Like, for example, what the hell a banger was. There was a lot riding on tonight, it was on the top of many tongues for the past two months.
It was a shame, then, that hers was a foreign one.
Hollywood infected your brain, you wanted kissing in the rain. I'm obsessed with the mess that's America. You're looking for the golden lie.
Min-seo arrived with the food. She humored herself with the thought that she was basically being delivered like a pizza, freshly made to order. She was almost not sure she could fit in the vehicle being driven by Ariana, but it was fortunate that Min-seo was on the petite side and was willing to share her seat and lap with bags of food and beverages. The trip to the location of the party was not awash in conversation as Min-seo didn't really know what to say. Even when they arrived, it was like her presence was a surprise until she had to clarify that a car was sent for her or else she would've gotten lost. It took her two months to be barely acclimated to her host home, it was far too early to trust her with directions outside of the school and the estate. Min-seo, being a guest, insisted on helping with the groceries, though once that particular task was done she was taken aside and placed behind a counter with various bottles and drink mixes on the counter behind her.
Min-seo was confused at first. Not at the location, a bar looked the same here as it did back home, but after having a very hastily explained reasoning she simply nodded her head and went along with it. In the shows, people that worked the bars had meaningful conversations with the guests so maybe this was Henry's way of helping her better acclimate to America and pick up on some helpful words along the way. This was her first American party. Heck, it was her first party in general not counting her father's fundraising galas which consisted of balding men discussing business while Min-seo stood around in a dress and keeping quiet. She was quite looking forward to it. Maybe there would be some karaoke and card games, maybe someone making cute little balloon animals and a trampoline! Well, maybe not a trampoline, this was on the beach, but that probably meant swimming! And the best part of swimming was having an ice cream afterwards to cool down!
It only took about a half an hour and the first bevvy of guests for Min-seo to realize she was absolutely, incredibly wrong about every single expectation.
The music was loud, aggressive, fast, and people seemed to move in ways that they were not built for. It could be called dancing, sure, though it was unlike any dancing Min-seo had known - and she had sat in on rehearsals for choreography sessions before. The volume was the hardest part. She had to cover her ears when it started, which made her job tending bar difficult. It was bad enough that she barely knew what people were ordering but add to that having to shout over the music just to ask "What" was not exactly her idea of fun. The first embarrassing moment of the night came about forty minutes into the party when a particularly sweaty person asked for a screwdriver. Min stared blankly for a moment before responding
"I don't know where...box...tools?" The sweathog thought she was fucking with him and got angry, but he was calmed down when Min-seo's bartending partner made the drink and settled the matter.
It seemed like this was a bad idea, putting her behind the bar, but she couldn't just leave. Not when she was trusted to do this. She knew what a beer looked like and she could find the other drinks by color. It was when people asked for non-simple things that the already slow service came to a glacial pace. For some, their impatience came with annoyed grunts but some came with understanding and what Min-seo believed to be flirting but awkward. She was asked no fewer than seven times "Working hard or hardly working?" and each time she answered straight
"Hard working." When she wasn't slowly getting people's drink orders wrong, she was trying to process the visual spectacle of this party. It was nothing like the galas at home. Americans had a strange way of dancing together. Nothing was choreographed and it looked less like dancing and more like some primal mating ritual. Some danced alone, some danced uncomfortably close, but very few actually danced on beat. Just by watching people's feet on the dance floor, Min-seo noticed so many missed beats that she lost count. There were also people passing around paper with smoke on the end of it, an uncomfortable looking girl near a wall conversing with someone who could barely stand, at a table someone was entertaining a small group with a well timed joke, and Min-seo could swear she heard shouting off in the distance.
If ever there was a moment she truly felt like a fish out of water, it was there behind the bar as the decadence of American excess developed all around her. She was honestly a little impressed that people could process it all and doubly so that for some this was like a regular thing. And there she was, wearing a casual black skater dress and heels, similar to what she would've worn at a gala - it was only too late that she realized she was a bit...overdressed for the situation. Though given the nature of some of the guest attire, or lack thereof, she felt far more comfortable. The confidence some of these people had was astounding, especially the ones that really should not have had so much. For a moment, she wondered what she would be up to if she had stayed home. Surely nothing like this. But was this any better? She had the comfort of home even if it had lots of barbs to sour the bouquet. Here all she had was, well...poorly serving drinks while rapidly gaining a headache from music that was being danced to poorly.
Two months in and homesickness was creeping along her back, and that was honestly the biggest shock of the night.
Min-seo was so lost in her daze and thoughts of home that she wasn't aware she had a customer (
@Legion02) until they spoke up. Min-seo smiled, as she had been doing all night, and nodded her head.
"Mock...tail? Mocktail?" What was that? No one here had any tails. Did someone bring a dog or a cat? A stuffed one? Was she asking for the game where you put a pin on the donkey? Did they have that here?
"Okay, okay. Mock...tail." Min-seo nodded and grabbed a cup. The first bottle she grabbed was vodka, into the cup it went. Then some rum followed by cola - since that was a popular combination she was told - a dash of tequila and a random grabbed bottle that happened to be Jäger. The cup itself was damn near full to overflowing and looked like nothing close to consumable. Still, with a smile, Min-seo placed the glass in front of the other girl.
"Mock...tail! Okay! Thank you!" Min-seo had so much to learn. She would get there. One 'mocktail' at a time.
Two months on and she had barely learned a thing, except that American parties were...overwhelming.
Karma was a strange mistress, assuming it was believed. The notion of good or bad deeds being rewarded in kind was easy enough to put at least a little bit of stock into. How many times had people called it ‘karma’ when some jerk in traffic who keeps cutting people off and speeding gets pulled over by a cop? Instant Karma. It seemed doubtful that anyone of import at Beverly Hills High cared much about karma, especially those that were attending the beach house party; how could they care about karma when underage drinking, drugs, and debauchery were on the menu. If karma were real, then a truly punishing act was bound to happen at the party. In this life or the next.
Karma was as silly a notion of destiny or fate; people liked to throw around destiny in works of fiction, as if it was destiny or some karmic reward that the male lead coincidentally ran into the female lead and they shared a moment of awkward sexual tension because two attractive people got aroused by the other. That’s not destiny or karma, it’s hormones. Instant karma was the same, it wasn’t the universe deciding that an asshole needed to be punished but rather an asshole having unfortunate timing. Coincidences were not the making of some cosmic grand design.
And yet, the nagging feeling of instant karma was incredibly prevalent all of a sudden.
I look to you to see the truth. You live your life, you go in shadows. Fade into you. Strange you never knew.
Shauna had never truly felt bad for telling the various girls she was intimate with that she wasn't interested in anything serious. Some of them took it well, a few were interested in maybe having a benefits deal, but a large percentage of them ended up in tears and running off. She never quite understood why - sex wasn't like some contractual obligation to a relationship and honestly the ones who were so eager to have it out with Shauna weren't exactly the type that would make for an exciting relationship anyway. When Shauna took them to the bakery and ordered the Heartbreak Special, she didn't take it to be a breakup scene - breakups imply things. It was more like...a boss firing an employee. Sure, the employee's day is probably ruined but there are dozens more qualified people for the position. Other than the collision with the window, today's trip to the bakery was as standard as ever.
Why, then, did it feel like she was being punished by the universe? Instant Karma.
"Would you stop messing with that?" Shauna took her eyes off the road in order to snatch away her phone from the passenger. Shauna's car wasn't a new model, she had a fondness for the classics so while newer models didn't have the need for cords in order to play off of a mobile device, Shauna's still required a connection - and with her phone it was easier to use a cord than the wireless, thanks to her vintage 2020 model. Normally her passenger seat was reserved for whomever she was interested in at the time. A romantic drive, whispered words in the ear, an impromptu serenade, the system was effective and part of the system was a specifically vetted playlist of classic romantic or sensual songs perfect for front seat makeouts that transitioned to backseat memories.
But the current passenger was not someone Shauna was interested in, and having the slow tones of one of Shauna's favorite serenade pieces was not her idea of a good time. Almost as soon as the car pulled out onto the street, the passenger was flipping through the phone, skipping songs and having not a single care. It was coincidence - or karma - that Shauna snatched the phone away in time for one of the more romantic songs on her playlist happened to come up. The cosmos was fucking with her hard today. Blame the goddamn loaf of bread.
"THIS SONG SUCKS! SKIP IT! SKIP IT SKIP IT SKIP IT SKIP IT!" The passenger in question, Parker Ashford, was bouncing in the passenger seat, grabbing for Shauna's phone in order to find something a bit less slow and weepy. In response, Shauna simply unplugged the cord and casually tossed her phone onto the seat behind the driver's, shutting off the music. Parker pouted and crossed her arms but at least she wasn't bouncing and potentially causing an accident.
"BOOOOOOO. YOU SUCK!""I'm not your biggest fan either, Parker." A merciful silence settled over the car as it turned onto the street leading towards the beach house, just a few miles down the way. The silence was welcome, as it allowed Shauna to think how of all the people, the universe decided to put Parker in the passenger seat.
Of all the windows in all the bakeries in all the world, she walked into Shauna's.
When Shauna heard the THUD in the bakery, she, naturally, assumed it to be a bird or, at the worst, some jokers playing a prank. She didn't expect to see Parker Ashford's face pressed into the glass with her palms flat against it as well. She had to have run into the window to make such an imprint, and knowing Parker, Shauna wouldn't put it past the little hellion. Parker peeled herself from the window and ran into the bakery - thankfully she had the sense to open the door instead of barreling through the glass there - where immediately she said, or more accurately shouted, two distinct things.
"HI, BREAD! THE SHAUNA SMELLS GOOD!" Someone behind the counter looked towards Shauna and Shauna could not meet the gaze back. It was perhaps too much to ask for Parker not to come over, but out of the corner of Shauna's eye she saw the hyperactive girl running towards the table, which happened to be the furthest back, the best seat in the house since normally being next to the window meant she got to look out at the citizens. What a double edged sword that turned out to be.
"SHAUNA, HI! SHAUNA! IS THAT FOR ME?" Parker sat down and dug into Curly's unfinished cupcake. She didn't use a fork, just picked off pieces of the cupcake with her fingers, uncaring that cream and frosting were over her fingers. Shauna looked on in horror for the entire duration. It only took Parker thirty seconds to swallow the whole cupcake, but it was the longest thirty seconds Shauna had been privy to.
"THAT WAS OKAY! HI, SHAUNA! GUESS WHAT?"It was exhausting dealing with Parker, which is why Shauna was glad that she only really had to deal with her whenever Parker ran down the halls laughing like an axe murderer. In small doses, Parker was tolerable. Kind of like alcohol. Except people could develop a tolerance for alcohol. Parker was a migraine headache without any aspirin. A hangover without any of the fun of drinking. And she was sitting across from her.
"You've got choco-""I'M GOING TO THE BEACH!" Of course, why would Shauna even think Parker would care about her appearance, with her mouth messy with chocolate and her fingers covered in crumbs. And here she was making her way to the beach. Shauna assumed she meant the party, but that...that was a fair few miles away and Parker had energy in spades, but chances are if Parker was going to run the distance she'd wind up passed out of exhaustion in a bush somewhere and no one would find her for a month.
"That's nice, Parker." It was hard to believe someone like this existed, but for some reason some of the influencers of the school didn't mind her. She'd heard people saying they saw Parker hanging out with Henry Green, and that's some serious clout. Maybe it was like a charity thing, something like Make-A-Wish. No. Shauna shook her head to her own internal thoughts. Parker was way too spirited to have a terminal illness. Shauna didn't see it. Just looking across the table at the smaller girl with the chocolate and frosting on her face looking around the room and practically bouncing in her chair like she was on a sugar rush brought questions she was not qualified to ask. In a school filled with spawns of famous sorts, somehow this maniac got a seat at the table. It wasn't jealousy that carried these thoughts, but general confusion and disinterest. Shauna was infamous in her own way, notably for her little black book of 'conquests' - one of which included a new member of the Elite (a bit of personal pride, that) - and Parker was one of the select few who never had a place within it. Shauna had a thing for younger girls (while she could, anyway) but Parker was...Parker.
"WHICH WAY IS THE BEACH?" Parker's question caused Shauna to blink. What was her plan in all this? Wander around until she found the party? Come to think of it, where did Parker even live? Could she not call a ride? Did Parker even know how to use...well...anything?
Maybe it was a flash of weakness, maybe the visual of Parker passed out of exhaustion on the side of the road was too much to bear. Parker was like everyone's little sister and maybe it was a sense of sisterly responsibility. Or maybe it was just that cosmic bitch called karma. Whatever it was, Shauna knew she was going to regret it before she even said it. Parker was friends with Henry Green and Shauna had seen members of the Elite giving her piggy back rides...she was like a mascot of sorts and seeing as she would be the last one to have seen Parker...it would've been her responsibility. In the unfortunate event of tragedy, that is.
Shauna sighed as Parker beamed, proud of the fact that she was going to the beach.
"Do you want me to take you there?"It seemed like a simple request, and if Parker said no, which Shauna was secretly hoping, it would at least give her deniability. But of course Parker didn't even hesitate before saying yes. Shauna sighed and told Parker to stay seated while she cleared off the table. Almost as soon as Shauna turned her back with her hands holding the cupcake wrapping and plate, a heavy mass descended upon her back with a force that damn near caused the Irish lass to fall over. She didn't have to look over her shoulder or guess; she tried to keep a stiff upper lip about it but they hadn't even left the bakery and Shauna was already regretting having a brief moment of conscience. Crumb-coated fingers dropped their bits onto Shauna's blouse. Of all the days to wear white.
"YOU'RE KINDA TALL FOR A GIRL! NOT THE TALLEST THOUGH! HEY IS IT TRUE YOU KISS GIRLS?" Shauna walked the suddenly extremely lengthy distance to the garbage with a scowl. Drug addicts were said to have a monkey on their back. Before today Shauna never thought it could be literal. This child had to be some sort of instant karma for the blunt way she did away with Curly. That was the only explanation for why she was cursed with responsibility of this hellspawn.
"Yes it is, Parker." Shauna responded with a defeated sigh. As she left the bakery, taking note of the staff doing a poor job of hiding their laughter, she almost hoped Parker would hit her head on the top of the door. No such luck.
"WOULD YOU KISS ME?" Shauna opened the passenger door and told Parker to get in. The sophomore grumbled but followed through, seeming to be impressed by the comfort level in the seats. Shauna didn't even bother to make sure Parker was strapped in. Knowing her luck, a car accident would just give Parker superpowers. A couple of miles. A few minutes. And then she would be someone else's problem.
Leave it to Parker to turn minutes into a goddamned eternity.
One of the perks of a holiday evening was the lack of excessive traffic. Sure, the busy roads had their bumper-to-bumper and people honking on their way to get absolutely tossed but when the little white figure in the lights came so quickly due to the lack of cross traffic, it had to be a blessing. It was like the universe was smiling down. There were hardly any cars and were it not for the occasional pedestrian carrying bags and looking at their phones it could've felt like some kind of end of the world scenario. Though the lack of traffic made for a brisk pace, the pedestrians left a lot to be desired. Every instance of saying 'hello' was met with silence at best and a mumble of indifference at worst. Whatever they were looking at had to have been important.
It was different from going to school. On days when there wasn't a car waiting then it was easy enough to follow the big yellow buses or other people with bags, though at first that ended with arriving at the wrong school. These little adventures made for fun trips, and it was good that most places were within walking distance otherwise getting lost would be like a routine thing. There was a voice on the phone that sometimes helped but that was like cheating and cheaters never prospered, whatever the hell that meant. Today's adventure was a little bit different than going to school, the store on the corner, or even to work.
She knew how to get to all those places.
My conscious is fucked and my judgment is leaking and I'm gonna die in a getaway car. I haven't tried but it sounds too hard.
Parker was lost within minutes of leaving her house. The diner, the store, and the school were all in the same direction and because those places weren't in or at a 'beach house' then it stood to reason that going the OPPOSITE way when she left would be where the beach was. That just made sense! Duh! What Parker didn't know, perhaps because of the interesting way her mind worked, was that the beach wasn't all that far from her favorite store. She was going the complete wrong direction and doing it with a wide smile. The beach was where Henry was at, and where Henry was at there were probably more people and more people meant more fun and more fun meant, well, more fun. Most importantly, Henry always had some juice on hand and she really wanted some. Coming to the end of a sidewalk, she made sure to hit the button. Once she didn't hit the button and just kept walking and a car nearly knocked her over. That sucked! Ever since then she made sure to wait for the little glowing man - though sometimes when there weren't any cars she just skipped across. It was kind of fun that way.
As Parker walked, her pace kind of slowing as she entered a more populated area but recognized absolutely none of it, she looked around for any sign of the beach. To her left were just buildings and a parking lot, to the right more cars and buildings, and directly in front of her was a park. A park was not the beach, and this park was for babies anyway. All the swings were those little buckets and they didn't go fast enough to go around the bar. Parker looked at her phone, and she considered calling Henry and yelling at him for not saying where the beach was, but she thought against it. It would be like looking up the answers in the back of the book, yeah you could but then it wasn't any fun anymore.
She tried flagging down some of the people walking and even a car stopped at the light, but at most she just got a blaring honk in response, which she made sure to honk back by yelling 'HONK!'. That only succeeded in having some of the foot traffic look back at the source and quicken their own pace.
The sky was on fire as the sun was going down, and Parker was no closer to finding the beach. When she was in danger of losing her enthusiasm and smile, the universe smiled down on her and as Parker was about to cross the street, a familiar face entered her peripheral. A curly haired girl that she shared math class with was walking quickly - Parker was too far away to see the tears but seeing the quick pace she naturally assumed that the girl was also going to the beach. Parker called out to her, and the girl stopped, saw Parker running towards her, and instinctively took a step back.
"HEY! HEY HEY HEY! I'M GOING TO THE BEACH! ARE YOU GOING TO THE BEACH?" Parker had found a second wind.
"HEY, ARE YOU CRYING? DON'T CRY! JUST GO TO THE BEACH WITH ME!" The curly haired girl looked at Parker, her tears stopping as she sniffled, and she could only say one thing. "Fuck you." And she was on her way. Parker blinked and didn't quite know how to respond to that. Maybe she didn't know where the beach was? Well, Parker was back to square one and she sighed with a little shrug of her shoulders. The cosmic powers weren't done, however, as Parker happened to smell warm bread, like the kind that made for the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She sniffed the air and turned her gaze across the street, where Curly had come from, and her eyes widened. She knew that person! Well, she had seen her in a play. Not the full play. Parker was asked to leave when her cheering began to overpower the performance, but in her defense the kissing scene was really believable! Not even waiting for the little man, Parker ran across the street and, waving at the girl at the table, she found herself running headlong into a window.
THUD!THUD!THUD!
THUD!
"Would you please stop doing that?" Shauna had raised her voice and Parker knew enough to know that when people were raising their voice it meant they were upset. Which was usually cause enough to stop.
"I WAS MAKING MUSIC!" Ever since Shauna took away the boring slow songs there wasn't any music in the car so Parker had taken it upon herself to make her own by repeatedly slapping her hand against the dashboard as if it were a set of drums. She knew someone that played the drums and was super good at it! Parker didn't have any sticks so her fist would've had to do, at least until Shauna got annoyed with it.
Parker didn't really know much about Shauna, other than that she was in plays and liked to kiss other girls. Parker had seen Shauna at other gatherings but Shauna was always with her own group of people and almost always talking to some new girl. She seemed...proper or something. Like a queen or a fancy person that wore suits and did business stuff. Though how fancy could Shauna really be, Parker wondered, considering that the Irishwoman had a chocolate stain on her shirt. How embarrassed she must be! Maybe she didn't know!
Parker sat back in her chair, looking between Shauna's stain, the front window, and Shauna herself. Shauna didn't really look all that happy which was confusing. They were on their way to the beach! What was not to love about that? How could that not bring excitement. The car drove past the Sunshine Diner and Parker gasped loud enough to draw Shauna's attention. Parker would take a note of that for the future, the beach was near enough to work to be on the way.
The silence continued and Parker really wanted to try making music again, but as she lifted her palm above the dash, Shauna flatly barked "Don't" and put an end to that particular idea. Silence was usually boring. Just a lot of nothing and it made everything feel longer. Though the silence did give Parker to think back and when the realization hit, her head snapped to Shauna.
"YOU DIDN'T ANSWER MY QUESTION! WOULD YOU KISS ME?" Shauna didn't know how to respond to the rather blunt question as it had come out of nowhere. She took a moment to gather her composure, take a breath and think of the goodwill this impromptu chauffeur gig would come with, and promptly answered:
"No, Parker, I wouldn't." "WHY NOT? YOU KISS GIRLS YOU SAID." Parker's high pitched, child-like voice seemed genuinely hurt by Shauna's response, and if she was someone that knew how to cry it was fair to say her eyes might well have been watering right about now.
"Yes, I do. But do you, Parker?" "I DUNNO. I'VE NEVER DONE IT. WHY WON'T YOU DO IT WITH ME?" Parker was blinking blankly towards Shauna, who was desperately trying to focus on the road and really, really hoping the beach house was coming up soon as the car ride was only feeling longer with each passing minute. There seemed to be no way for Shauna to end this conversation without further hurting Parker, short of lying. If there was one thing actors were good at it was lying for profit. What was acting if not lying about one's identity for entertainment?
"Because...I just broke up with my girlfriend. I..." Shauna added a sniff to truly sell the deception.
"...I though we really had something special. And I...I just need some....some time." Parker considered a moment. The curly haired girl did seem really mean and Shauna didn't look happy when Parker entered the bakery...so obviously the curly haired girl just broke up with Shauna! It all checked out. It was probably good then that the curly haired girl wasn't going to be at the party since then Shauna would have a bad time. Parker began to smile again and gave Shauna a slap on the arm, making the car swerve in the lane and Shauna to freak out.
"PARKER! Just...just make your music." Parker didn't have to be told twice.
THUD!THUD!THUD!
THUD THUD THUD!This part of town was like walking into the asshole of a dysentery patient. The air smelled foul, the houses were one floor, most of them had front yards that needed to be cut two years ago, and there was a loud barking dog that was barking right in this general direction. The dog was a pitbull and its drool was dripping from its jowls. Absolutely not adorable. The knocks to the door happened again, three heavy hits with a fist, and that only made the dog bark even more. On any other house it would be easy to assume that no one was home, but considering the sounds of bass and vulgarity, that excuse didn't exactly work.
Maybe the owners were dead. That wouldn't be surprising, though it would certainly be disappointing, if only for a few moments. Three more knocks, this time throwing the arm into it. The problem with knocking - and knocking was the only option given the broken doorbell - was that it had to compete with the music. The people inside knew to expect a visitor, a message was sent and this meeting had been set up in advance. Being forced to wait outside in a neighborhood that smelled of gasoline and regret was no one's idea of a good time. But it was the perfect location for a bunch of degenerates to hang out.
The front door opened just enough for a scratchy voice to seep through the crack. "Who the fuck is it?"
Well it's the ice cream man, bitch, don't you hear the music? I got the shit, fiends holla at me when they use it. I got shit sold. I pimp those broke ass nymphos.
"Who the fuck do you think it is? Open the fucking door and tell Ken I want the shit." Hana had to deal with this every single time she wanted to restock. The problem when one of your suppliers operated out of a trap house was the vetting process. Hana was no stranger to this group, her in was that her brother lived among them, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they only let her inside the place because she happened to be a young female. Regardless of reason, the door opened and Hana was let inside.
The first time she entered the place she was, understandably, nervous. There were guns. Just out in the open, right next to baggies of powders and rocks. She made the mistake on her first visit of asking what things were, and nothing got a bunch of dope fiends upset more than questions - only cops asked questions, or people who spoke to cops. If only they were aware of the connection one of them shared. As time went on, however, Hana got used to the place and knew better than to spend any more time than necessary inside.
There was music blaring and the heavy haze of smoke was intoxicating. The doorman was giving daps and the users, abusers, manufacturers, and fiends inside were being put at ease as they realized it was just Hana, the pretty little money maker. She walked the familiar distance to the backroom, not so much as looking into any other side room. Seen one person lounging on a couch or about to do a line, seen 'em all.
"Ken," the doorman got the attention of a man sprawled out on a couch with a hat pulled over his eyes. He lifted his hat and got off the couch, arms wide. "Heyyyy, li'l sis!" Ken Park stood there like an idiot with his arms outstretched until Hana simply stared at him, her eyes all but saying 'what the hell are you doing'. "Tch, so much for family love. After everything I've done for you." Ken, who really should've put a shirt on, walked towards the back of the room while Hana continued to just stand in the doorway.
"We both know I've done more for you." Hana had to keep her cool, she learned that the hard way. Acting nervous was like a sign for these people to pounce. Someone nervous was someone that could use a hit to calm down, and then it was all over. She had been here when some fiends were trading in currency other than money in order to get their fix. It was a large reason why Hana refused to ever get involved with drugs. She just sold them. Other people were free to fuck themselves up.
"Yeah, maybe. What's the deal, though? This is a bigger order than usual. Working us to the bone." Ken was grabbing different bottles and baggies, they were separated by contents and handled much like a pharmacy so that the wrong person didn't wind up with the incorrect type of goods. The Park Siblings had this whole thing down to a routine at this point.
"Big end of the year party. Right on the beach and everything. You know what my classmates are like.""Loaded as shit, dumb as fuck?"
"Largely. I don't ask why they want this shit, Ken. Maybe they think it makes them look cool.""Well, you're the expert there, aren't you?" Ken's sarcastic response was not lost on Hana.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Hana was already in a bad mood just from being here, it was an unfortunate side effect of the business. Ken and his friends might've been good for nothing but they dealt in some of the best, most potent shit in the area - at least that's what customer feedback had led Hana to believe. Her bad mood only threatened to worsen with Ken's smart ass mouth.
"Nothing. Just wondering if you weren't supplying this party if you'd even be invited. Food for thought."
"I'm not paying you to think, Ken. If anyone did maybe you'd have a job."Ken returned to the front of the room, setting Hana's bag of party tricks out for her, which she quickly swiped, and handed Ken a roll of bills. "You just paid me for a service. Sounds like a job to me, li'l sis." Ken plopped down on his couch, picked up a still lit cigarette, and took a lengthy drag while Hana looked through and sorted the merchandise, placing them in specific compartments in her purse for easy distribution later. "How's dad doing?"
"Still trying to set me up with someone's son or another. Jeremy can't exactly be the heir to the business but maybe a hypothetical husband can." Lee Park, Hana and Ken's father, was a man of traditions and he never quite got over the utter backstab that was Ken dropping out and going his own way rather than following in dad's footsteps and taking over the family business. Lee was determined to leave Kumiho, the family restaurant, to an heir and with Ken's betrayal of family values, Jeremy being in first grade, and Abby being a woman it fell to Hana and her hypothetical marriage to someone with her father's approval. Lee's insistence on setting Hana up on dates with male suitors was a key factor in her deciding to move out and live with Abby.
Hana didn't want to have her love life determined by her father, but of course there was more to it than just the fact that blind dates were being arranged.
"I don't think I've ever seen you with a boy, li'l sis."
"You're one to talk.""I'm not into boys." There was a sizable pause while Ken waited for some kind of petty jab from Hana, as their little schtick dictated. It never came as Hana was much more occupied with sorting and checking. It fell to Ken to carry on the conversation. "Abby doin' alright?"
"Keeping the kids off drugs one assembly at a time. She's hoping to make detective this year. I'd tell her you're doing well but...I hate lying." Everything seemed to be in order, and Hana was ready to put as much distance between herself and this place as possible. She already had a car waiting for her just up the corner, and the sooner she got there the better.
"Thanks for the stuff, Ken. Happy New Year.""Stay outta trouble, li'l sis." Ken chuckled at his comment, which made for one of them. Hana offered an awkward nod of acknowledgment and turned her ass around and marched her way out of the house. She never thought she'd be glad to smell the shit scented air but the haze of drugs and junkies in the house had a way of making even the dirtiest of atmospheres more tolerable.
Hana didn't look back as she put her sunglasses on and continued on her way. The party was surely about to start and every minute she wasn't there was a minute of potential lost customers. The damn dog was barking still, and it seemed to follow her. Hana turned to look at it, to sneer at the thing, and in so doing wound up crashing into someone who had never heard of sidewalk etiquette before.
"Sorry."Hana scoffed as she gave a quick once-over of the vagabond that had walked into her. The woman looked like she fell out of a book called 'baby's first rebellious attitude' with the vest and boyish hair. Hana shook her head and chalked it up to people of this part of town being absolutely fucking rude.
"...Fucking hate this place." Hana muttered as she picked up the pace to round the corner towards where her waiting ride was.
"There's a hundred bucks in it for you if you get there in record time." Hana told the driver who seemed encouraged to try, if nothing else.
The entire time Hana retreated to the car, she could swear someone was staring at her.
Party rock is in the house tonight. Everybody just have a good time. And we gon' make you lose your mind. We just wanna see you....shake that!
Hana was glad to see that the party wasn't quite in full swing when her driver pulled up to the beach house and let her out. Having already paid when placing the order for a car, she quickly got out of the back seat. The driver asked where his hundred dollars were before Hana responded by simply slamming the door and promptly ignoring it - even paying little mind as the driver yelled "FUCKING BITCH" from his window. She didn't have the luxury to care what a glorified cab driver had to say. She was the one getting into the banger of the year while he was stuck working a job where the best he could hope for was maybe a conversation with someone well out of his league.
Hana entered the party without so much as an issue. She was, after all, on the list and, in her own mind, a damn integral part of the party puzzle. Booze, dancing, and sloppy makeouts were all well and good, but anyone who wanted to make the party truly something to experience she was the one to see. Arriving early enough, as she did, allowed her to stake out a section for her own purposes. There was a stretch of wall next to the entrance to the dance floor and close to the bar that was perfect. She had a good view of the action and anyone interested could see her. She would certainly try to enjoy herself, but part of her couldn't help but wonder about Ken's words.
What did that loser know? Even if she wasn't the top dealer in Beverly Hills High she would've been on the list. Captains of sports team make lists by default. Hana shook her head and got the niggling doubts out of her mind just in time for her first customer. A few happy pills and one happy customer. Business was sure to pick up as the party started entering its full swinging state.
Shauna turned off the engine and stepped out of the car already exhausted. Parker was out of the car first, of course, she had opened the door even before Shauna had come to a complete stop. Parker, hearing the music and seeing the beach house, sprinted towards the entrance.
"YEAHHHHHHHHHHH! BEACH HOUSEEEEEEEEEEE! PARTYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Parker ran through the beach house shouting at the top of her lungs, and if that was the last Shauna saw of her then that would be too soon. Shauna took a moment to reorient herself after the ordeal that was driving Parker. Of course the first thing she saw would be a familiar face. Near enough to the door to be considered a bouncer was Soliel
@Dirty Pretty Lies. The junior had done well for herself, but Shauna still remembered the Freshman. Still remembered putting that name down in the black book - with a nice red stamp to go with it - and Shauna had a hunch that Sol wasn't exactly primed to forget either. But, as with so many of Shauna's experiences, it was beautiful while it lasted. Sol had moved onwards and upwards, but Shauna once heard that no one forgets their first time. Come what may, Shauna would always have that.
Shauna made her way towards the entrance, giving Sol a rather knowing smile, though it was friendly in nature there was no denying the meaning behind it. Of course, Shauna didn't really have a desire at this particular moment to take a trip down memory lane but it was, as Shauna said slinking inside:
"Soliel. Always good to see a familiar face." Shauna didn't need to say anything else before heading inside. A gaggle of girls who happened to be drama aficionados flagged down Shauna and she sauntered her way towards them, engaging in conversation amidst the chaos of a party. The encounter at the bakery was nothing but a bad memory at this point. That was the beautiful thing about New Year's. Everyone got to start over again.
But if there was to be any constant going forward...drama was never far from anyone.
1x Thank
