"I seen some fucked up shit, man. Kids who had a chance, flushing it all down the toilet."

Roxy pushed the offered drink out of reach, her eyes alive with conviction. With pain. "I watched a close friend of mine been stuck on the roller coaster of detox: up, down, dry, wet, clean, dirty. I beat the shit outta some lowlife one time cause he broke her stride, dragging her back down into the gutter then leaving her alone once he saw how broken she was. She'd been dry for months, her best streak ever, and he comes along with his greasy charm, jumping her like his prey, and she too weak and lonely to fend him off. All that hard work me n'the boys had put into building her up, the nights we spent straight, avoiding the clubs and playing video games on whatever couch she was calling home that month, all to keep her going. All for nothin'.

"I mean, it's not like I could have controlled her or nothing. She made her own choices, but that sewer slime was no stranger to her situation, or her vulnerability. There were no secrets in our neighborhood. He took advantage when we had our backs turned. I show up one day to hang with her, gearing up to kick her ass in Mario Bros when I find her wasted, gushing on about how she might be carrying his baby and how he ain't returning her calls. She had actually convinced herself that piece of trash was her ticket outta there. Somewhere in her twisted head, she was seeing the white picked fence with that asshole.

"I wanted to puke. It wasn't Luigi's ass that needed kicking that day, it was Berto's."

"'You're pregnant?' I says to her.

"'Been feelin' nauseous,' she slurred. I could barely look at her.

"My first line of business in that moment was getting her a couple pee sticks. I wanted to know if I was gonna be strangling the cash for her clinic visit outta that bastard before my second line a business, which was jamming her pee sticks into his jugular, no matter their results.

"Both were negative. Only good news that day. Was her relapse making her sick, and her sickness making her wish for some impossible, Cinda-fuckin-rella life. She was smarter than that. Dee knew better! Least the old Dee did.

"I didn't find him till a couple days later, when he caught me off guard. I didn't take time to plan it out and a friend a'his witnessed our little tango. He was gonna rat me out on aggravated assault. What I done to him was brutal. My knuckles are scarred forever from that motherfucker's thick skull. Boys back home said I cracked it, said he's never talked right since. Unfortunately, I couldn't wait around to admire my handy work. I was in LA three days later. Been here ever since.

"That's a whole 'nother story. My point is that I don't drink no more. Dee was my best friend, my only girlfriend back home. We grew up together ditching school to play guitar, picking fights with the boys who thought they're too good for us. We were hot Dee and me. We were supposed to make it big together, to storm LA with a sound they ain't ever heard before. Man, that chic had some pipes, better n'Pizzazz. But not anymore. The drink got her, and it got her good. I wouldn't even wish Dee's fate on a Hologram."

"So, what happened to her?" Eric asked, ice clattering in his glass as he drank. "She uh, you know, ever get help?"

Roxy studied him a moment before shoving off the table, her chair tipping behind her. "Why do I even bother." She headed for the door.

"What's with you?" Pizzazz said with a grunt when Roxy bodily cut between her and Stormer. They had entered moments ago.

"Nothing," Roxy barked from the hall.

Pizzazz exchanged a glance with Stormer before turning to Eric. "The fuck you say to her?"

"Nothing," Eric shrugged. He gestured to the bottle on the table, a mid-shelf scotch. "All I did was offer her a drink."

Stormer's shoulders dropped and Pizzazz palmed her forehead. "You creep."

"How was I to know?" Eric rose from the table, grasping at a clean conscience as he snatched his bottle. "I haven't the time to keep track of you girls'...baggage."

The pair of heavily painted eyes widened before closing in on the misspeaking manager. He turned and found himself pinned to the sink.

Pizzazz ripped the bottle away and took him by the tie. "We'll show you baggage, little man."

"Yeah," Stormer leaned in, blocking his escape. "The kind you pack on your way out."

"Now ladies," Eric pleaded, "let's be reasonable."

"We are," Pizzazz said in a darker voice, tightening her grip. "That's why you're still breathing."

"And you're gonna use that breath," Stormer said with a poke to his lapel, "to apologize to Roxy."

"Apologize?" Eric was bewildered. "All I did was offer her a drink. It was a nice gesture for crying out loud."

"We're tired of your excuses, Eric," Pizzazz roared.

"Yeah," said Stormer. She pointed to the hallway. "Go make it right with Roxy."

"Right now?" he said.

"Yes!" the girls snapped in unison.

"Daugghh, fine." He yanked his tie from devilishly manicured claws and slipped away from his neon threat, mumbling once reaching the door. "I don't have time for these...soap operas."

Pizzazz waited for him to leave before popping the top off the bottle and emptying it into the sink. This action surprised Stormer. "Solidarity?" She tilted her head.

Pizzazz psh'ed. "Roxy's a big girl who can take care of herself."

"What then?" asked Stormer. "It's Eric's favorite. And I'll sneak some every now and then to take the edge off, yanno?"

"You shouldn't. It's piss." Pizzazz tossed the empty bottle out the window. Glass shattered and bystanders shouted from several stories below. "I won't have anything but top-shelf," she paused to flourish, "nectar-of-the-gods on the premises of Misfits Music."

Stormer laughed in irony. "Oh wow, for being the Queen of the Punk Scene you sure are a snob."

The Queen turned, proud of herself. "I know. Now go get me a cake so I can have it and it eat it too."

Brushing off the command with playful eye roll, Stormer made for the door. "Get it yourself. I'm gonna go spy on Eric and Roxy."

"Gross." Pizzazz turned, leaning into the intercom's talk button. "Zipper! I have an errand for you." Stormer was about to leave but Pizzazz continued. "What could Roxy possibly see in Eric? I thought she was illiterate, not blind."

"Who knows." Stormer shrugged. "One thing's for sure, Roxy needs an outlet for her aggression and Eric-"

"Frequently needs his ass kicked," Pizzazz finished and they both laughed at the image. "Suppose it's the perfect match." She paused thoughtfully then shuddered. "Still, gross."

Music: The Kid's Aren't Alright by The Offspring