"We could call Jake," Pizzazz said.

I ignored her and kissed her on the lips, hungry for her. She craned her head back into the pillows on her bed and I kissed my way down her slender throat on my way to her cleavage.

"Jetta," she groaned lightly when I bit into her left breast. "You liked Jake, right?"

"Mmhm," I mumbled as I kissed her. Jake was just lovely; tall, blonde, tanned, surfed all day every day... Exactly the kind of boy Pizzazz went for. He wouldn't have been my first choice- I typically preferred my boys a bit more dark and brooding or filthy rich, but he had his merits all the same. Primarily, his merits all resided in his pants.

"Good, I'll call him," she said, picking up the phone.

I plucked the phone from her and hung it up. I pressed my lips to hers, and she kissed me back furiously. My hands roamed under her shirt; the contrast between her hard, flat stomach and her soft round breasts set me on fire and made me slick with want.

"What about Mike. Mike Ellis, NOT Mike Grant." Pizzazz pulled away for air and swiped through photos on her cell phone. She showed me another pretty blonde man, this one with long hair and dark eyes. "Remember him?"

"Yeah, I do," I grabbed her mobile and tossed it out of her reach with a dirty smile. "Don't call him."

"Ugh, OK, not Mike and not Jake," Pizzazz groaned. "What about that hot reporter from Venice Beach?"

"How about we skip the boys tonight?" I finally asked since she wasn't picking up on my not so subtle hints.

"What? Don't be silly. What about Sam and Will? They were fun last time."

"No thanks," I kissed her collar bone and the tops of her perfect breasts, although Sam and Will had been massive fun.

A sweet little moan escaped her lips, but she said, "Very funny. I'll call Jeff. Jeff, and his brother Jack."

"Ugh, love..." I rose up on my elbows and looked down at her. Looking the past the fact that she'd just suggested a pair of brothers to me, I said, "I am really not in the mood for boys tonight. All I want is you."

She laughed, "Yeah, right. What about Zach? He was-"

"No, listen," I touched her face gently. "I don't want to share you tonight. So how about you and me..." I stole another kiss from her and let my right hand slide beneath her short violet skirt and between her thighs.

Pizzazz clamped her hand down over mine. "Jetta... You know I like boys," She said with a sigh.

"So do I," I told her honestly. I even liked most of the same boys she did, with one glaring Riot shaped exception.

"Yeah, but..." Pizzazz sighed again and sat up. "Look, it's one thing for us to fool around together with a guy, but..."

"But what?" I blinked at her pretty tanned face.

Pizzazz rolled her brilliant jade green eyes at me. "It's just more fun when we have a guy with us."

That made me sigh with a deep displeasure. There had been plenty nights where the fellow we'd taken to bed was either too exhausted, couldn't keep up, or fell asleep after a job well done and we'd continued on our own. There had been plenty of other nights where she'd left our boy suffer, made him watch us for hours while I brought her to climax with my tongue and fingers. I didn't really understand how that was alright but wanting that without an audience was wrong to her. Well, 'wrong' wasn't accurate, she didn't think it was wrong so much as she just really liked men.

"We could call that goth guy you liked? Vox."

The offer was sweet of her. Pizzazz didn't care for pale, lanky boys in black that wore nearly as much eyeliner as we did. I shook my head, though. "Call one of your surfer boys," I told her, climbing off the bed. I rubbed my hand across the back of my neck and exhaled. Frustration crept into my muscles as I straightened my clothes and slipped my shoes back on. I brushed out my hair and pulled it back from my face so it looked like a wild spray of black shards.

"What are you doing?" Pizzazz asked from the bed.

"Going out," I said, sounding a bit sharper then I'd intended.

"What? Don't go. It's still early, we can-"

"I said I'm not in the mood for boys tonight, alright?" I frowned at her reflection in the mirror as I touched up my make up and reapplied my lipstick. Was it that difficult a concept to grasp?

"Ugh, come on Jetta..." She hopped off the bed and put her arms around my shoulders. "Don't go. It's more fun with you here."

"Listen," I touched her arms. "Sometimes I want- no, I NEED time without boys. Girls only." I turned in her arms and touched her vibrant green hair. "You like what you like, and most of the time that works for me. I love sharing boys with you. Just... not tonight."

"So what are you gonna do, go to a bar and pick up some dyke?" she scoffed, as if that was the most absurd idea in the world. Absurd, or repulsive, and her tone caused me to cringe inwardly.

"I dunno, maybe," I pulled away from her and grabbed my jacket and purse. I left her bedroom and headed downstairs before she could say one more word about it, car keys rattling in the palm of my hand.

I was half way out the door when I spotted Roxy in the living room, her feet kicked up on the coffee table. Impulsively, I thought I'd invite her out. "Hey, I'm going to Rage. Want to come along?"

Our bass player looked over at me. "Rage, huh?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Come have a drink. My treat."

"Where's Pizzazz?"

"Not really her scene," I clucked. Not that Pizzazz minded gay bars, but she typically preferred the bars filled with men. She couldn't have any of them, but she always enjoyed looking. "You coming or what?"

Roxy clicked off the TV and got up off the couch. "Why not? Not like I was doing anything else tonight." She said in a bit of a glum tone that I knew was mostly due to Stormer being out of town and not just her general surly attitude. Our bass player grabbed her grey jean jacket with the sleeves torn off and shrugged it on as she followed me out of the mansion.

X-X-X

I glanced at my fellow Misfit, who sat next to me at the bar, and asked, "You were with her, yeah? What was she like?

Roxy snorted and pounded back a shot of whiskey, chased it with a swig of beer. "What do you think?"

"Well, that's why I'm asking, love, because you claim to not like men, but Pizzazz only wants to have it off if there's a man involved," I frowned at her. It was a rather private conversation for so public a place, but with the noise of the crowd and blare of the music I doubted anyone would be able to overhear us unless they sat down in between us, and there wasn't space for that. "So either you're lying or she's... I don't know what."

Roxy laughed at me. She turned her dark eyes out over the crowded room, watching the club full of women dancing, chatting, drinking, some of them kissing. There were a couple men around, but they were few and far between.

"Come on, Roxy, tell me. Pretty please?" I sipped my drink, feeling no less frustrated.

"Why the hell would I tell you anything about me and Pizzazz?" she shot me a look, but smiled. She looked back out over the bar, watching a small group of punk girls shooting pool.

"Well, it's ancient history, isn't it? And I bought you a drink. I'm only curious." I said. I hadn't intended to interrogate her when I'd asked her to join me, but I couldn't help myself. Roxy and Pizzazz's fling was no secret, and I figured if anyone knew what I was going through she would. The problem was Roxy had hated me for inadvertently coming between she and the singer.

"Get me another shot," Roxy shoved the empty shot glass up the bar.

I rolled my eyes, but was happy to oblige her. What was a little bribery between friends and band mates? I finished my own drink quickly and ordered another round for both of us. "There, now spill it."

"Bottoms up," Roxy lifted her shot glass and I followed suit, clinking my glass together with hers.

"Yeah, cheers mate," I said and downed half my drink, in a hurry to start feeling the effects. "So?"

She drank her whisky and glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. "What exactly do you want to know?"

I laid it out in terms so simple even with a the rocks in her head there was no way she couldn't understand. "When you were together with Pizzazz, did she insist on having a man in bed with you?"

"Nope," Roxy smiled at me over the lip of her beer bottle. "Happy now?"

"She never asked to let a man join you?" I asked her, casually twirling the straw around the permieter of my glass. I hated this, letting Roxy know I had a problem with Pizzazz was like handing her a victory. She was loving every second of this.

Roxy shook her head. "No, she didn't. And even if she did, there's no way in hell I'd have done it. I'm not into that shit."

"And you actually had sex with her?" I sounded immensely skeptical.

Roxy shot a dirty look at me. "Uh, yeah. Need me to draw you a picture, too?"

"I just don't get it. Why would she have it off with you and no men, but not with me?" I wondered aloud, feeling miserable about the state of my affairs.

"Maybe it's you're winning personality," she snickered. Roxy leaned across the bar, resting on her elbows.

I frowned at her, but was it possible she was right? Was it me? I didn't think so. Something had changed in the time since she and Roxy had been an item and now, and I needed to figure out what before I went stark raving mad.

"You ever consider that maybe she's just not that into girls?" Roxy asked me.

I blinked at her, a little surprised. "What?"

"When I first met Pizzazz, she'd never done shit with a girl," Roxy told me, no bribery required. "She'd just got back to the states after years in some European boarding school, and her dad was just as much of a dick then as he is now."

"So?"

"So?" She looked at me like I oughta know where the hell her random tangent was going. "So she did what she always does, she went crazy trying to get her old man to notice her. She dyed her hair green and start running around with street punks and we started a band and we'd crash country clubs and all sorts of shit. Anything to cause a scandal."

I blinked at her and thought that over for a moment. "You think that's what you and her were all about? Just another way to piss off Daddy and get him to pay attention?"

"At the time..." Roxy sighed and shook her head. "I woulda said no. Looking back on it... I dunno. Maybe that's how it started with us. Her dad was definitely pissed and he paid a ton of attention to her for a while."

"You don't think she loved you?"

"No," Roxy said quickly. "Don't be stupid, that's not even a real thing. We were a team, she was my best friend."

I was caught off gaurd by that. "You don't believe in love? Like, not at all?"

Roxy shook her head at me and shot me a look like I'd just asked her if she believed in the Easter Bunny. "What am I, five? No."

"So you didn't love her, either?" I asked her, genuinely curious. "Then why were you so mad about me and her..."

She shrugged and shook her head again. "She was my best friend and then you showed up and all of a sudden she's got no time for anyone else, that's why." Roxy frowned, but cocked her head to the side and confessed, "Actually, you probably did me a favor."

"What do you mean by that?" I sipped my drink, enjoying it at a much slower pace as Roxy took down yet another beer. The girl drank like she was built like a four hundred pound footballer, her tolerance for alcohol vastly outmatched my own.

"I mean she was always completely fucking boy crazy, even back then. I didn't really care cuz when we were together it was just us," Roxy told me. "You showing up when you did pissed me off, but it's probably why Pizzazz and me are still friends. If she's all about guys now and we were still together, we definitely woulda had a problem. But the way it worked out, I hated you and not her. Much better that way."

I laughed softly at her reasoning. "That actually almost makes sense to me," I said. I had never minded Roxy's attitude toward me. I hadn't ever taken it personally because it wasn't like I'd set out to steal her girlfriend. I hadn't even known she and Pizzazz had been an item until after Pizzazz and I had gotten together. As far as I was aware they'd never even broken up properly because they'd never really been dating, so how was any of that my fault? Only thing I was guilty of was rubbing it in her face when she copped an attitude about it- which had been frequently. "She really didn't ever insist on sex with a man around when you were together? She didn't even want one to watch?"

"Oh my god, for the last time NO," she scoffed, clearly disgusted by the idea. "No way I'd do that shit, even if she asked. But she never asked."

An insurmountable pang of envy shot through my bones. "Fucking hell," I sighed miserably. I frowned at Roxy. "Never thought I'd say this, buy I'm incredibly bloody jealous of you. I'd kill for one night alone with her."

"I don't get what the bid deal is. I thought you liked dick." Roxy said bluntly.

"Well yeah... But I like women, too. Honestly, I prefer women over men in a lot of ways," I told her truthfully. I sipped up half of my drink, suddenly in a hurry. "All my closest relationships have always been with women. Sex is better with women, usually. Just, now and then I find myself attracted to a man." And because I was deeply attracted to Pizzazz I found myself going to bed with a lot of men because it had been the only way to be with her. I had always hoped it would lead to us being together on our own, but clearly that wasn't panning out.

"Now and then? You guys bring home like a different guy every other night!" Roxy pointed out for me, in case I'd somehow failed to notice.

"Exactly, which is why I really wanted a night without men. I don't think that's a lot to ask," I complained. Not that I really minded all our exploits with boys. I really didn't.

"Guess you were wrong," Roxy said. Her eyes wandered across the bar and back to the pool table and lingered there for a long moment. "If you're so annoyed why don't you get a real girlfriend that doesn't need a dude in the room to bang you?"

"I don't need a different girlfriend," I told her. I didn't. In all other regards, I absolutely loved being with Pizzazz. Not that I'd really call her my girlfriend. That seemed entirely too formal for our arrangement, and I didn't really do formal. Unlike Roxy (if one were to believe her), I loved Pizzazz, I just wasn't the 'relationship' type. Never had been. I needed my space when I wanted it, had never felt 'monogamy' made any sense at all, and didn't insist on it with anyone I was with. Most of the time, I was incredibly happy with our little set up. It was just... certain nights I needed something more from her, and for some reason she wasn't willing or able to give it. I didn't understand it, especially now that I'd talked to Roxy and knew a fraction more about what their relationship had been like.

Then again... Sexuality isn't a thing fixed in stone, which I knew very well from first hand experience. So maybe she was bi with a preference for men that weighed heavily in their favor, even if once upon a time she'd leaned slightly more towards the middle. I couldn't really fault her for that. When I was younger I'd only ever fancied boys. Granted, I'd been thirteen going on thirty five and it was another two years before I'd even ever kissed a girl... And even then, I'd still mostly favored boys. Until one day I realized I didn't anymore. I was probably around 18 or 19 at that point. I didn't know why it had changed or when, it just had. I'd had several girlfriends by then, but still saw plenty of men. It was never one or the other for me, but it had changed all the same. I'd be a fucking hypocrite if I didn't allow Pizzazz the same flexibility with her proclivities.

All the same, it made me a little bit sad... because I did love her. I wanted to be with her and only her every once in a while, and she didn't want that. I was an open minded kind of girl, though, and I could find a way to make this work without ruining what I did have with her.

"What I need is a friend with benefits of the exceptionally pretty female persuasion who doesn't want any kind of relationship outside the occasional romp in the hay, as it were," I mused aloud.

Roxy chuckled at me. "Good luck with that. You might have better luck writing to Santa with that bullshit."

"Bullshit? Why's it bullshit?"

"What girl do you know is gonna go for that?" She shook her head and finished off her beer with another chuckle.

"Well I don't know, there's bound to be some girl out there who'd be alright with that. Not everyone wants to settle down and get married after the first date, you know."

Roxy scoffed. "Why don't you just call up Clash if you're that desperate."

"For one, I'm not THAT desperate, and two, she hasn't gotten over the fact that she's not a Misfit but I am," I told her in no uncertain terms. Clash was cute enough, but she was so annoying. A real sycophant, that one was. Though, if she didn't completely hate me... tonight, I'd probably consider it. Maybe after another drink or two.

Roxy just rolled her eyes at me like I was speaking nonsense. She spun around on her barstool and leaned her back against the rail so she could look out over the crowded dance floor.

"See something you like?" I followed her gaze. There were five of girls standing around the pool table in the back with cans of cheap beer, all sporting skin tight jeans and black t-shirts with the words 'Standard Deviants' written across the chest in splashes of yellow and hot pink. They all had dark skin and two of the girls were sporting mohawks in neon colors. The others had streaks of equally wild colors in their hair, but wore it long.

"That girl with the yellow mohawk," Roxy nodded her chin in her general direction. "I went out with her a few times."

"She's pretty," I commented, giving her a look-over. The girl wasn't just pretty, she was an absolute knockout in a vicious, street trash kind of way. "They in a band?" I asked, guessing by their matching shirts.

"Yeah. Chicana speed punk," Roxy told me. "They're pretty good. Most of their songs are in Spanish though, and I don't speak enough to follow."

"You speak Spanish?" I asked her, more than a little surprised.

"A little," she didn't elaborate on how or where she picked up this knowledge, but I assumed it was on the street where she learned everything else. "Her name's Araña, which means spider. Funny thing is, I dated a chick back in Philly named Spider. White chick, real pretty blue eyes. She od'd and died."

"Well that's grim. You do always tell the best stories, Roxy," I said sarcastically and shook my head at her. "So you and this Araña, was it serious?"

"Serious?"

"Did you hook up with her?" I asked instead. My version of serious would probably not translate if she didn't believe in love- not that I was sure I believed her entirely on that point.

"Oh," Roxy glanced back at the punk and sipped her drink. "Yeah. Couple times."

The way she was watching the girl, she looked like she was considering having another go round. "Why don't you go say hello to her?"

"Nah," Roxy shook her head and finished off her beer. She flagged down the bar tender and ordered another round for both of us. "I kinda had a argument with her last time we got together. She called the Misfits a pop act."

"What! Pop?!" That was more than a little insulting. Misfits were a lot of things, but a pop band we were not!

"I nearly made her eat her teeth cuz of that," Roxy glanced over at the group of girls one last time, and there was more than a hint of longing in her gaze. If it were me, I think I might try talking to her all the same; the girl was that good looking. But Roxy was not the type to back down or apologize for anything, especially if she felt she'd been slighted.

We sat there half the night drinking and talking. It wasn't often I hung out with Roxy one on one; she was typically hostile or out with Stormer and I would rather be out with Pizzazz. It was nice she didn't hate me anymore and we could talk about our experiences with Pizzazz.

Listening to her made me envious in more than one way. The way she talked about the Misfits when they'd been brand new; I wished I'd been there to experience that. I'd only missed out on two years with the band, but so much had happened in that short time that no matter how much they told me I'd never hear it all.

"Oh my god, you're such a fucking slut!" Roxy giggled. Four shots of whiskey and three beers in, and she was jovial and laughed easily. We'd devolved into childish drinking games, as was common when Misfits went out as a group. "You would seriously bang Rapture? Rapture?!"

"Well, if my choices are bang, marry, or kill, I would, yeah," I shrugged. "Now, if we're talking real life... I'd probably bang her and then kill her... After what she did to Pizzazz, she's got it coming."

"You could choose 'kill' on its own." Roxy laughed again. "Slut."

"OK, you're turn..." I glanced at her, choosing to ignore her last remark. "How about... Shana."

"Shana?" She kinda wrinkled her nose at the thought. "She's pretty, but she has got a major stick up her ass."

"Yeah, but you know those uptight girls tend to be crazy in bed," I reminded her.

"Yeah right. If you're going for uptight, you might as well bang Jerrica," She shuddered and I laughed. She looked like she was giving the thought of Shana and what to do with her very careful consideration, which I found amusing. "Ugh, I don't hate her enough to kill her, but I don't like her enough for anything else. Bang, if I gotta."

"If you gotta," I mimicked her, chuckling. I sucked up a mouthful of pleasantly sweet Long Island ice tea through a bright pink straw.

"OK, how about... Kimber." Roxy asked. She was working on a bottle of water before starting her next beer.

"She's cute. Bang," I decided quickly. "I bet she'd be fun to make out with. I should ask Stormer sometime."

"She'd never tell you," Roxy said, sounding utterly sure of her words.

"What? How do you know? She might." I said, swirling my straw around in my soda brown drink. "I can be very persuasive."

"No way," Roxy shook her head. "She's way private about that shit."

"I wonder why. Just shy, you think?" I rested my elbows on the black bar top and let my chin sink into the palm of my left hand. "Not much to tell, is more like it."

Roxy shrugged. "Little bit of both? Who knows," She finished her water and chased it down with a gulp of ice cold beer.

"Would you bang or marry her?" I asked, leaving 'kill' off the table for obvious reasons.

"Kimber? Bang," she said as quickly as I had, but with a shrug. She glanced at me with a wry little expression somewhere between a frown and a smirk.

"Not Kimber, you twit. Stormer!" I giggled at her, feeling the booze warm in my blood and cloud my mind in a pleasant way.

"Stormer? Ugh, I don't know..." Roxy shot me a funny look and thought it over. "Stormer's such a sappy girly girl, but she's the most god damned talented person I know. I guess I'd... Marry her?"

"What?!" I howled with laughter and slapped the counter top. "Marry her? You'd marry Stormer?!"

Roxy's cheeks blushed hot. "It's just a stupid game! I didn't mean for real! What's your answer, smart ass?!"

"Well, bang, of course!" I chuckled at her. "I'm not the marrying type. Though, if you had to marry someone, Stormer would be alright, I guess. She's probably dying to do the whole white picket fence and two point five children routine with someone," but a moment later I frowned at the idea. "I take it back, that's a revolting idea. Children, ugh!"

Roxy laughed. "Right? No thanks!" She sighed and backpeddaled a bit, "I just meant cuz she's nice. I don't want to kill her after a week on the road like I do the rest of you."

"Sure," I said a little mockingly. "You wouldn't bang her, though? Sounds like a terrible marriage. Pretty sure they call that 'lesbian bed death'."

"Please. Not saying I'd bang Stormer, but even if we only did it once fifty years from now, that'd still be more sex with a girl than you've had lately," She sniped playfully.

"Rude!" Though she wasn't exactly wrong. I'd more or less forgotten about finding a date for the night. In a very strange turn of events, I was having a good time with the bass player. She was fun to drink with, and wasn't being nearly the bitch I was used to putting up with.

Roxy ignored me. "Anyway, marriage is a fucking joke. I don't know why any one bothers. Who wants to be tied down like that?"

"Oh I don't know, under the right circumstances I rather like to be tied down," I said a bit lasciviously.

"Gross," she snickered at me and rolled her dark eyes.

I shrugged, unapologetic in the slightest. "What about me?"

"What about you?" She tipped up her beer bottle, draining the contents into her mouth.

"We're still playing the game," I reminded her.

Roxy raised an eyebrow at me and laughed. "Kill."

"Shut your face, you would not!" I feigned a deeply wounded look. "I know we aren't friends like you and Stormer, but you don't hate me nearly as much as you let on. You wouldn't be out here right now if you did."

"Hey, I'm here for the free drinks. We never needed a forth Misfit and you're a pain in the ass," she said casually as she flagged down the bartender and ordered another beer.

I scoffed at that. It was her standard argument for kicking me out of the band that she hauled out on a regular basis, and I was used to hearing it. It might have worried me if either Pizzazz and Stormer agreed with her, but I had majority favor. "You'd really rather kill me than bang me, though?"

"I'd need to start drinking double shots to even consider it," she taunted and shrugged.

"Oh, but you'd consider it?" I said sarcastically, but eyed her with dirty curiosity.

Roxy scoffed at me, incredulity in her coffee brown eyes. "You are outta your damn mind."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, love, you're plenty good looking," I teased her. "I bet your not half bad in the sack."

"Wouldn't you like to know," she muttered and rolled her eyes at the ceiling.

"Actually..." I turned on the barstool to really have a look at her. As much as I adored and desired Pizzazz, Roxy was a beautiful girl in her own way. And honestly, I was half curious just to find out what Pizzazz saw in her once upon a time. "Yeah, maybe. Why haven't we ever fooled around before?"

She raised an eyebrow at me and scoffed, "Uh, probably for the same reasons we were never friends."

"But we're friends now. More or less," I pointed out. I eyed her deadly seriously and she burst out laughing.

"More or less? You're so drunk," she informed me. Roxy shook her head, an amused smile on her painted lips.

"So? Not like you're sober with that much whiskey in you," I replied with a cool smile that turned positively dangerous in the matter of seconds. "You're not just a little bit curious?

"Yeah, right," She said sarcastically and snickered at the thought. She threw back her bottle and finished off her beer, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "You're not even my type."

I didn't let that stop me. I leaned in suddenly and pressed my mouth to hers; an experiment or suicide attempt depending on her reaction. Her lips were soft and she tasted like cheap beer and Irish whiskey. She tensed up from surprise, and I slid my right hand behind her neck and held her there. It was strange and sweet and delicious. We parted quickly, I caught my breath, and before she could knock my block off I kissed her again. I slid my arms around her shoulders and-

Roxy pushed me away suddenly and slid off her barstool. She grabbed her jacket and marched out of the club.

"Wait! Roxy! Ugh," I jumped to go after her, but then stopped. I dug into my purse and found a few large bills to cover our tab, tossed them on the counter, and ran to catch her.

"Damn it, Roxy, wait! Fucking hell," I took off like a shot down the block, calling after her for all the good it did. Thankfully she was walking, not running. In heels I wasn't fast, but I was at least able to catch up with her on the corner. "Roxy!" I grabbed her by the shoulder.

Roxy pulled back, a deathly angry look on her face.

"Shit," I flinched away from her gaze and tried to catch my breath. "Why'd you run off?"

She glared back at me and just shook her head. Roxy started off down the street again and I kept pace with her.

"You're mad at me?" I asked, though this was obvious. Roxy stayed stony silent, and it was starting to bother me. Roxy was NEVER quiet when she was mad. She'd shout and scream and hollar and smash things, but she I'd never seen her stay quiet, and it was starting to worry me a little. "Damn it, Roxy, say something!"

She wheeled on me, grabbed me by the front of my shirt and shoved me against the nearest wall. Hard.

"Ow! Be mad all you want, but don't fucking kill me you bloody stupid-"

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" She blared in my face. "You think you can just do shit like that and it's ok?!"

I squeaked and flinched back as far away as I could get from her, which wasn't far with a brick wall at my back. Her anger hit me like a train and left me rattled. Roxy's grip was surprisingly strong and she looked ready to put her fist through my face. I stood there trembling, frozen and unable to move, speechless and scared she might hit me. Me, speechless! My heart thudded rapidly behind my ribs.

Note to self- when Roxy says 'kill' in a game of 'bang, marry, or kill', she fucking means it!

Roxy shook me once, her dark eyes furious. "It's not ok!"

"I'm sorry!" I whispered, afraid to look at her. I had never, EVER apologized to Roxy for anything at all! She was never going to let me live it down- if she let me live. There was a long moment of terrible silence between us before she burst out laughing.

"Oh my god, Jetta! You're such a baby! You should see the look on your face!" Roxy cackled wildly. I glanced up at her and the fury that had colored her eyes was gone, replaced by sheer wicked amusement. I felt my heart fall into my shoes and my cheeks heat up with embarassment. The whole thing had been a prank, and I'd fallen for it.

She let go of me and I slumped against the wall, staring at her in disbelief. "Oh my god. You little bitch," I muttered under my breath. "You rotten, sneaky little bitch!"

Roxy laughed hysterically, her hands on her hips victoriously. "You looked like you were about to pee your pants!"

"I can't believe you..." I peeled myself off the bricks and tried to regain a little bit of composure. There was no saving face with this one, though. I was never, never gonna hear the end of it. "You didn't have to slam me against the wall like that for a fucking joke."

"Please," Roxy rolled her eyes at me and sneered. "You totally had it coming after what you did in the bar," she said. Roxy laughed again, shaking her head at me. "Wanna walk down to that all night diner a few blocks away? You can buy me pancakes."

"Oh I can, hm?" I shook my head at her nerve.

"Yep. Unless you want me to tell everyone you're a big crybaby coward," She smiled sweetly at me.

"Blackmail now? Charming, darling," I sighed at her and looked her over. She'd probably tell everyone anyway, even if I did buy her pancakes. I would have, if I was her. "Actually, food sounds like a good idea. I'll buy you pancakes, on one condition."

Roxy folded her arms and looked at me with an expression that was halfway quizzical and half way like she might pummel me at any second, depending on what my condition was. "What's that?"

"Tell the truth- you didn't hate it at all when I kissed you?" I asked her, my eyes narrowing into hard slits as I looked her over.

The bass player scoffed at me. "Truthfully? It's a good thing we're friends now, or I woulda put my fist through your fucking teeth. You're not my type, Jetta, and I don't like you that much," She favored me with a smile that was both terrible and sweet. Roxy linked arms with me as we walked down the street towards the diner.

"Friends. Right," but I found myself giggling at the notion. We had an odd sort of friendship going on, based mostly on her disdain and all the cheap shots I could throw at her, but it was still friendship, more or less. "Fancy a game of truth or dare over breakfast?"

Roxy laughed at me as we walked into the diner. "You must have a death wish."