"Okay Vincent! I give in and I wake up!" hissed a still half awake Megan Martinez from her bed at exactly 7 o'clock on the dot. Her long black hair cascaded onto her rumpled pillow and she blew out a puff of air. Her skin was already covered in a thin layer of sweat in the 97 degree weather of Miami, Florida. Her air conditioner had broken three weeks ago and she didn't have the energy to actually go out and buy another one. Her roommate had planted their back-up fans all over the apartment but they had to open all the windows so as to let the air circulate, which mostly just let the hot air in.
"Sheesh! Who's bed did you wake up on the wrong side of this morning?" Vincent Nucci was a smart man. He was just too lazy to actually work at anything. Except for trying to be a complete sleaze, and that's putting it nicely. "Anyways, I got your boy down here in lock-up. You know which one. And he keeps bitchin' about needing you to come down here and bail him out." Did I mention he was also a cop? Well, actually just a guard for the holding cells. But he prides himself on having a badge. He probably would even if it was made out of construction paper and had a lower case P on it.
"You woke me up before 9 a.m. to tell me that Mr. Randy Orton, king of bar fights, is asking for me? Like he does every other Friday morning?" she asked, holding her Blackberry between her shoulder and her ear while she sorted through her closet for something that could make even the Pope start thinking sinful thoughts at the alter. That's why she was the best. She only dressed to impress. "You always call me at 10:30 when I'm awake and ready to greet you with a half smile and perfectly made face Vinny!"
"Yeah well, he's still drunk. Usually it would've worn off by the time he got here but he's become a big boy and bought himself a flask! I would give him a gold medal or a pin or something but he's already celebrating. Though, I think he's running empty." After carefully selecting a extremely short black stretch mini-skirt & a grey caged corset top, she made a quick grab for her grey pumps. Hey, if she was going to do this, she was going to all out this time.
"Vincent, if I do say so myself, you are the worst cop in the world. You fill that flask up again guy! I know you have a bottle of bourbon in your bottom drawer underneath the 'evidence' from all the potheads. Be there soon." she laughed and hit the end button before throwing it onto her dresser and hopping into her shower.
"Felicia! What the fuck do you want at 9 o'clock in the morning?" a very sleep deprived Janna O'Grady shouted into her phone, covering her eyes with her bare arm. Her light brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and she was sweating like a whore in church. All of her windows were opened and she was desperate for some release from this beyond humid air.
"Please." Her voice sounded pleading and Janna immediately sat up in fear of the fact that she could be hurt. "Get him out of here. I don't care how. Just please get John out of here. If he doesn't stop making remarks about my 'delicious arse' I will slap the crap out of him! And then I'll get fired. I like my job Janna. I do!"
Janna chuckled lightly and hopped up out of bed before walking over to her closet and picking out a form fitting black dress with thin spaghetti straps. After she took her hair out of it's ponytail, Janna looked down at the dress again. Shaking her head, she put it back and grabbed a red one-shouldered top and a pair of tight black dress shorts. "I know you like your job. But this John Cena we're talking about Fee. He likes to hit on women. I should know, we got a fucking divorce because of it."
Janna had met John while she was still living in Boston and still a Daddy's girl. Her father practically ran Boston, seeing as he was the head of the mafia there. This caused his only child, Janna, to be spoiled rotten and his family to leave in one of the big houses in Newton. Her entire life, Janna had been Daddy's little girl. When John Cena started working at her dad's bar, the same one she went into everyday to do her homework, every Southie woman flocked to the Irish pub & stuck around for as long as possible. But John ran through them like it was nothing. Janna was the real challenge.
"Yeah well, I was never married to that bastard so please come get him out so I can enjoy my last Friday before I head over to Little Cuba." Janna laughed and started looking for her red pumps. Finding one shoe, she hurled it towards her bed and started to frantically look for the other one. "You know, Ramon would be more than happy to show you a couple of moves. My cousin really likes you mija." Laughing once again, Janna rolled her eyes and placed the other shoe on her bed.
"Your cousin likes anybody with a vagina and tits Felicia. No matter how many diseases. I'll be there in thirty." Clicking the end button on her BlackBerry, the brunette hopped into the shower closed her eyes as the cold water hit her body.
Megan's 2010 black Camaro screeched to a halt in front of the courthouse & Janna gave out a brief sigh of relief. "Meg, your driving is going to get you into one of those cells along with Randy one day."
"What're you talking about Jan? My driving is impecable." Janna gave a snort as both women exited the car, walking in long strides towards the courthouse. Getting the line for the metal detectors, they dumped their bags into the bins.
"Tell that to your 33 speeding tickets." As both of the machines went off when they stepped through, the guards stopped them and started checking them. Finally finding Janna's pocket knife, she growled when they gave her a knowing smirk.
"What? I grew up in Southie you assholes!" She shouted in her slight Southie accent, grabbing her bag and knife from the gaurd who probably had a hundred pounds of pure muscle on her. Walking away, Megan fell into step next to her.
"Well, at least I know that you'll be in that holding cell with me." When Janna looked at her increduously, Megan shrugged. "For beating up the cop that dared arrest me."
"You know that's right."