Ironically enough, it starts with a pretentious pseudointellectual James Franco dudebro Instagram account, and the essential hashtag cherry trees.
"Ughnnng see? I told ya he'd make a post about us!" a screaming Lorna Morello practically lands on Nicky's shoulder, waving her phone with the worn pink jelly case on her face, and a magenta handwoven dish towel in the other hand.
Nicky squints slightly, trying to focus on the entirely too bright screen with aching, puffy eyes that haven't heteronormatively fucked Morpheus in quite a fucking while. "Hey that's like, so touching," she squirms at the tackily filtered photo. "Tell me about how both you and your guy are actually flamingo trees somewhere in Brooklyn." In her defense, she hasn't slept in so long she can practically hear in her cranky head the sound of her Mona Lisa eyebrow as she arches it root deep in the mop of her hair.
"Fuck you Nichols," Lorna chirps so cheerfully it's almost affectionate enough to make Nicky's intestines sing. "For your information," she heavily accentuates the word, taking the phone away to croon at it, "Christopher's like, way too sensitive, especially for a guy. He posted a photo of cherry blossoms, which is a straightreference to a discussion we once had about spring!"
"The straight part's fucking classic! My favorite!," Nicky murmurs, standing up in that occasional spasmodic way that Red always scolds her about, throwing hair all over the place.
"Whatd' ya say, Nicky?"
"I said, it's nice to see that you both like pink!" she smiles widely, fiddling in the pocket of her flannel shirt for a smoke, and it's a hyperbole.
She knows for the soft spot she's hit before she even shuts her stupid, restless mouth around her cigarette, and she knows it from the way Lorna's red lips press tightly together, and woefully enough, not against her own, thirsty ones. "Why're you being such a dick, uh Nichols?"
Oh you know, it's not something she expects you to understand. It's a lesbian thing. Nicky has only vaguely heard about it herself. About having your bad, dysfunctional heart kicked up under your boobs with a platform wedge every day or rather, every night, in those hours that shit is hardly supposed to make any sense. About you being all touchy feely and perfectly aware that you electrocute her with every brush of your knuckles as you serve her that disgusting pisswater coffee you can't even bring yourself to make, black like both your souls or whatever. About Red not having named the coffee shop "The Bean Flicker" and her remarkable Piroshky "The Девственность Popper" so that girls like Lorna Morello, with pinup curly heads up in the clouds and exquisite chests full of dreams about prince charmings in naphthalene sweaters wouldn't even dare bringing their CVs past the door. About falling for the straight girl, and falling so hard that she misses breaking her neck on rock bottom.
"I just haven't gotten any sleep, is all," she says somewhat softened as she lights her cigarette, taking in a deep drag of smoke. "Y'know how this shit is, I'm like, the Fight Club guy, only I punch more imaginary shit up, and prefer using my fists for the actual, existent pussy that he didn't get."And an imaginary conscience, however fucked up She may be, is sure as hell better than an imaginary boyfriend,she wants to say, but she most clearly doesn't.
Because, you know, it's kind of a truth universally acknowledged that, while Morello will drive everyone crazy blabbering about Christopher's social media, she'll never allow any glimpse about his actual internet identity to be taken, so that no one else will be able to stalk him but herself. Needless to say, something always happens with Christopher's car when he's supposed to come pick her up in ungodly hours of the morning when her shift at the coffee shop finishes, and he's always too busy being a shitty dj in a dodgy alley to fuckin show up during his fiancé's night shift. At least they know he exists, complete with a Youtube channel where he uploads his crappy mixes, and shit. But hey, delusional Morello may be, but she's also a sweet, harmless girl, who's willing to hold Nicky a bit too much when everything goes to hell, makes shit coffee and not-so-shit hot chocolate, and makes orange lipstick look more like matte sunsets and less like glittery carrots. And Nicky can't stand being the one to ever hurt her. At least not intentionally.
"It's okay, kid. We're okay."
"Oh, I'm glad!" Morello smiles, returning to wiping the last glasses and stifling a yawn behind the bar. "Now you gotta help though, what d'ya think you're doing here all the time without contributing to the work?"
"Hey, Red may be my ma', but that doesn't mean I work here too! I come here as a customer,remember, 'cause I can't sleep, also remember the part where I leave you huge tips? I fix shit is what I do, this is not my work, I ain't getting paid for it! After all I shouldbe getting paid for sitting here every night, hearing you go for your prince charming and his microscopic dick!"
"The reason Red doesn't pay you's because you're rich," scowls Lorna, slapping Nicky's head with the towel over the bar, and taking her fourth Darth Vader mug, empty of coffee, in order to wash it. "And if you wanna know Nichols, Christopher's very well endowned!"
"En… Jesus, Morello," Nicky sighs deeply. "You mean endowed?"
"No, I mean endowned!" Lorna growls, tapping her silver wedges angrily on the floor as she walks around the tables to wipe them clean before she closes. "'Cause I go down on him!"
"Ew," Nicky drags another one of her smoke. "Just. Spare me, willya? I'm going out to finish my smoke, this place stinks of hetero filth." And with that she walks outside, to light another cigarette. In reality they both know that, when she goes back in the café, Nicky will help her store the mugs and the leftover pies, and will mop the floor to make sure that Lorna won't slip on her heels, before Red and Gina arrive for the morning shift.
But there's still time for that. The early rising student activists have arrived to protest outside Cesar's 24hr pizzeria across the street, the sky's cleansing itself white, and Nicky still has her cigarette.
.
Piper Chapman arrives with Chocolate Granola, her Dachshund that she walks in horrid morning hours, before taking her back home to begin her day of selling fancy soaps with American Vintage Holly Lamepants. Nicky has to admit that disheveled is a good look on Piper, and she overly enjoys the idea that she looks like she had to run beyond her greatest measure. Morello abandons the espresso machine and throws herself at the puppy, hugging her through incessant throws of babytalking.
"The fuck happened?" Nicky follows her friend and her dog in the café, smirking in amusement. "A fucking tornado chased you two?"
"You could say so," Piper sighs heavily, collapsing on a chair, Granola's leash still tied around her hand. "She's got her menses and apparently that brings all the boys in the yard, so there was this hugeblack dog, like Sirius Black only with a hanging tongue, that tried to knock my dog up, so today he climbed on her, and she's like, so small I was afraid he'd crash her, and then he tried… humping my leg? And I couldn't get him off!"
Morello can't hide her snickers as she prepares Piper's Venti Double Chestnut Praline Eggnog Latte Soy No Whip Almond Crust and Sprinkles together with An Entire Ass. Nicky gives Granola some cheese for the sandwiches and pets her, raising her eyes at her exhausted blond friend.
"Okay, first of all, since you've got a shop to open and Barry's got like, a dick to jerk, why can't he walk the dog instead in the mornings, to help you out, uh?"
"It's Larry, okay?" Piper scowls. "Larry's a cat person, it's so kind of him that he lets me have Granola, I can't expect him to walk her as well!"
"Oh, so Harry gets to shove his hot dog in your pussy, but he can't bring himself to love your dog?" Nicky raises an eyebrow, earning a well-deserved smack on her ass from Morello.
"Here," the Italian hands Piper a wrapped Vatrushka. "Red left this for ya. Says you're too thin."
"Is it because of my breasts?" Piper sits up, alarmed. "God, it's because of my breasts."
"Relax, Blondie," Nicky lifts Chocolate on her lap, to have her face properly licked. "Red wouldn't imply that. She's all body positivity and shit when it comes to her girls. 'Sides, I'd suck your tits," she curves her lips, not failing to wink at Morello's general direction, striving to make her as uncomfortable as possible.
"You're a fucking pervert and also disgusting," Piper says pleasantly, obviously comforted enough by that piece of information.
"But you love me so much."
"You know I do. Thank you for the coffee, Lorna," Piper smiles, standing up and tugging on Granola's leash. "I should be going, leave space for the customers that'll start to come. Tell Red I'm grateful for the Vatrushka, and for being considered as, apparently, one of her girls? I mean where did that come from? Will you ever forget the time she served me tampon marmalade to teach me a lesson for insulting her apple crumble?"
"Scarred for life, that's what we all are!" Morello croons, taking her apron off.
"Russian maternal figures, man," Nicky shrugs her shoulders. "Lessons are all that they teach spoilt Upper East Side brats with Freudian complexes like us." She escorts Piper and her dog outside. "To answer your previous question, it's the hip lotion."
"How does she like it?"
"Aah, orgasmic to say the least! Can't stop praising your crafty genes every time she puts her hands on her hips holding a spoon, like a Weasley matriarch."
Piper looks satisfied. They stand on the pavement as Granola sniffs around, and her eyes fall on the group of students holding signs and shouting slogans outside Cesar's pizzeria. "They still protesting?"
"Soso and squad?" Nicky squints at their direction. "'Course they are. Keeps our heads clear. Now they're Mendoza's problem. Serves Norma right for abandoning Red as well."
She will never forget the day when the student activists arrived with placards outside Red's café, to practically protest Morello's rights, because apparently it was inhumane to work a night shift. Nevertheless, Nicky managed to shove them away easily enough, letting them know that Mendoza practices fake witchcraft, now featuring a psychic Norma. She has to admit she feels slightly guilty for bringing this up on Gloria, who makes better pizza than most Italian places around (even though it's proper Tacos that this quarter needs, let alone coming from the Latinas), but it serves Cesar right for probably hosting a drug lab in the basement – Nicky would eat her hair to prove her assumption's true – as well as Aleida for being a shit mother. Besides, Soso and squad will sure as fuck get dazzled by the magic shit soon enough and drop the placards to form a cult. They'll probably even praise Norma as their god, who the fuck knows what's inside rich activist kids' heads.
(Nicky. Nicky knows, because she was one of them once. Nicky knows and Nicky knew, before excess happened, before she started hating everything, including her guts – especially her guts. She always needed something to get addicted on. Once upon a time, it was social justice and a spoonful of naiveté. Today, it's veins full of caffeine.
She never tried to act like the middle stage never happened. The one people don't dare to name, the one that comes in plastic bags and ends in them. She just wishes she could speak about it as if it was over.)
"Hey, you didn't tell me how you got away from the Dog that tried to fuck your Dog!"
"Watch your tongue around my baby!" Piper hisses as Nicky kneels down to smack a kiss on Granola's hanging ears. "Well yeah, it was kind of weird? I mean, I cringe just thinking about it, because I made a fool of myself! I'm a grown ass woman that can't get rid of a horny dog, but there was that othergrown ass woman like, really grownand really assor, both of them together, I don't know –" she doesn't fail in catching Nicky's attention, and she won't pretend she's not fucking excited to finally hear the cleancut Piper Chapman express the Sapphic side that only one woman alive can stir in every other, at least one that Nicky's aware of… "I mean, I'm not sure she's even real? She burst out… out of this tattoo parlor and she looked like an amazon even though it's not even 8am and she was wearing those glasses and had this voice… like, does she start her morning shift at 8am in that tattoo parlor, or did she just finish her night shift, I don't even know. And she calmed the dog with that voice and gave him a biscuit and held him while I walked away with Granola but, but before I walked away she said something to me that I didn't quite grasp, probably because it's morning, I'm rambling Nicky, am I rambling?"
"You said amazon," Nicky presses her tongue against her mouth in undisguisable triumph. "Do you by any chance mean Rockabilly Glasses Sex Goddess Amazon with old school tattoos?"
"Yes! Why, do we know her?"
"With tits like the sun?"
"Wait, do you mean big like the sun or hot like the – what the hell, Nicky, do you think I walk my dog to stare at people's breasts?"
"Course you don't," Nicky licks her lips, full of meaning. "Gary wouldn't like that, would he?"
"It's Larry, and one of those days, you all need to grasp that bisexuality is a concept which exists," Piper shouts louder than necessary in the middle of the street, almost grasping the attention of the students across it. "Right. Yeah. I'll go now," she makes one of her priceless faces, lowering her voice to a whisper.
"It's Vause," she coughs.
"What?" Piper knits her eyebrows suspiciously.
"I said soaps,gurl. Go sell some fucking soaps!"
"I will," she tugs on the leash angrily. "Come on, Granola!"
Nicky laughs triumphantly at the vibration in her pocket, before she even pulls her phone out to snort at the screen.
[From: Vause|8:09] Blonde, qt dog, dressed like Coachella. Went ur way
[From: Vause|8:11] I'm not going to beg u, Nichols
.
Cheesy as it may sound, Red and Gina arrive with the sun, bearing pans full of pie and muffins, as well as two apricot piroshkies for Nicky and Lorna, and spring is fucking ridiculous for making Nicky notice such poetic shit, like the fucking sun and Lorna's laugh that burns her and everything in between. "Want me to drive ya to the suburbs?" she offers like she always does. Nicky is no fool to object because, thank fuck, the caffeine in which she's developed immunity is starting to wear off, which means she'll finally pass out when she gets in the flat her mother's paying for to keep her out of her hair. The biological mother, that is. The one who gave the womb but not a single fuck. A metaphorical one, at least.
The thing is, they have a deal: Nicky doesn't tell Red about the glasses Lorna breaks because she's such a klutz and Lorna doesn't tell Red about the excessive amounts of coffee that Nicky consumes every night. She had that deal with Norma back in the time when she did the night shift, before she left Red for Mendoza but, then again, Norma didn't even speak to give her away in first place, and she'd always start judging and stop serving Nicky as a customer somewhere around 4am. Morello, on the other hand, has somehow managed to sneak the last papercup full of filter coffee in the car just in case for her. Nicky's heart grows three sizes, maybe because the coffee's full of sugar, but then again so is Morello, and all that Nicky can think of while putting her seatbelt one because well, Morello is driving, is how much she wants to top it with the cherries of her lips.
They're silent as they drive, which is rare, especially for Morello. Maybe it's a 8:16 am thing, to be silent, or maybe it's one of those occasions when Nicky feels shut out of Morello's cage, and at the same time eager to crawl up inside her and feel as much as there is to be given to her. It's not exactly lying, not when it doesn't involve words, but Nicky feels deceived in any case.
Morello pulls the brake on Nicky's street and softly punches her shoulder. "See ya tonight, Nichols," she quirks the corner of her lips. "Or will I?"
"You can count on me, kid."
Her stomach feels jumpy as she walks out of the car and into the building. Always her fucking stomach, uh elevator? How exactly are you helping? Isn't her heart fucking enough?
Nicky goes to sleep.
