Title: La Vie en Rose (WIP)
Rating: R (language/sexual innuendo/drug use)
Disclaimer: Rob is the Man - I just take them out to play, but I promise to bring them back. Latest Wednesdays aroung 8:45 in time for hair and make up.
Thanks a million to Dina at LJ - without you this story wouldn't be the same - you made this adventure possible and most of all readable.
Duncan looked up irate, his eyes trying to focus around the room. He couldn't remember why he was suddenly awake, even though the non-existent light was an indication that the morning was hours away. His alarm confirmed his suspicions. 2:35 a.m.
"Great!" he mumbled, falling back on his pillow.
"Who needs sleep anyways."
Still bleary-eyed and puzzled, he drifted back to sleep. His cell, lying carelessly underneath a pile of musty and damp clothes on the floor, was blinking, indicating a missed call.
"Man, what's going on? There's no beer in the fridge!"
"Alert the media! Logan Echolls ran out of Booze before noon! What's up, the help didn't deliver?"
Miguel was balancing 2 cups of coffee as he hurriedly walked across the deck of the 270 foot yacht, carefully not to disturb any of the sleeping beauties soaking up the San Tropez morning sun. Casa de Echolls, party location extraordinaire, was once again back in business. Not that it ever really closed.
"Salut, what's going on!"
Miguel reached Logan, handing him the steaming hot liquid.
"You're up early. Everything ok?"
Logan was leaning on the rail by himself, sporting bed hair and only wearing a pair of cargo shorts, staring across the water. A smile sigh escaping his lips, he straightened his shoulders and smoothed back a lock of hair. His sunglasses hid his tired eyes as he watched the beach and the boardwalk slowly returning to life. It was easy to spot the locals, slowly opening their shops and cafes, taking their sweet time while the tourists were beginning to fill up the white sand beach. Why anyone would go on vacation in San Tropez to actually hang around the beach was beyond him. The beach was overcrowded, the shops overpriced and the food French. To enjoy the perks of this city you had to be either too rich for your own good, seriously beautiful, or famous. Logan was lucky for once in his life. He was all of the above.
"Morning to you too," he greeted his friend, thankfully taking the coffee, his right eyebrow raised and giving him a dirty smirk.
"Didn't expect to see you today. She seriously had her claws hooked on you yesterday."
He was referring to some random brunette they ran into last night, who had made up her mind that Miguel would not be taking home somebody else. She practically did everything but rape him on the dance floor. Not that Miguel seemed to mind. Hell, the chase was fun, but sometimes take out will do just fine.
"Do I look like I am running a fucking B&B? The sooner I am done the sooner she can leave. Let's just say...she left rather quickly." He grinned.
"So, how did you end that beautiful night, dawg?" Putting his arm around his buddy's shoulders, Miguel steered Logan towards the cabin.
"Miguel! Ghetto Slang with a French accent is just W R O N G! " Logan groaned.
"What cute little tiny blond made it into the chamber of secrets this week? I heard about Becky and Monique's catfight yesterday. They were both dying for the Queen of the week title." He laughed.
"You should make it surprise for tout le monde and for once pick a brunette"
Logan slipped the cell phone he'd been holding into his pocket. A split-second of sadness ran through Logan's eyes, but as always, what's a split-second in comparison to a lifetime?
"What can I say. Blondes, duhh, they, eh, just have more, ehhh, fun!" Giving the best Barbie doll ditz expression he could come up with before his first coffee, he grinned back at Miguel, tilting his head back and laughing.
Just as they were heading down towards the living room a petite blonde came out of the bedroom. The red thong bikini she was wearing would have made even James Bond blush.
"Bonjour Logan," she breathed as she kissed him passionately, wrapping herself around his abdomen. It took him a lot of restraint on his part, not to take her straight back to where she came from. What's a man got to do? He cradled her in his arms, holding her ass tightly.
"Good morning gorgeous," he whispered, his breath tickling her ears and cheek. "You better stop, or Miguel will have to witness a very XXX rated On Demand special," Logan spoke, smirking, and gently freed himself from her embrace.
"Monique, felicitation, ma cherie." Miguel kissed her on either cheek.
"Off you go, get some sun and enjoy the day! I need to borrow your boy toy for a little bit." He pointed towards the flock of women occupying the boat at all hours of the day, each more exotic and more beautiful than the next. Most of them could easily be successful models. Hell, some of them already were.
Monique pouted, but made her way upstairs, grabbing a bottle of champagne from the fridge on her way up. Music started to sound, as someone turned on the stereo with the newest Euro dance hymn. Joining the party upstairs, bathing in the envious looks some of the girls were sending her direction, she spread herself on the deck to catch the midday rays.
The guys sat down on the cream colored leather couch. The living room bared witness to last night's festivities. Empty bottles of Dom Perignon and Pernod, lip stick laced glasses, full ashtrays and napkins lay strewn everywhere. Logan picked up a black lace thong and tossed it in the trash before sliding into his favorite corner spot. He pulled his knees up on the couch and ran his hands through his hair and over his face, rubbing his eyes. There was rarely a night without a true Logan Kick-off party to get the night in gear. Last night being no exception. He sighed.
"Nathalie will once again kick my ass overboard. She threatened twice to leave me last month. Like, I need to find a new cleaning chick. Especially when summer starts."
"Well, didn't your father teach you never to fuck the help! You knew that she'd be trouble. You should have just kept your pants zipped for once. Not that I blame you. She's not all bad."
"Right!" Logan growled. "The only reason Aaron never fucked our cleaning lady was that she was about 40 years past his age tolerance. Once you turn 18 you are too old for my daddy dearest." Hatred appeared his hazel eyes as he remembered Aaron Echolls, Academy award winning slime bag and father from hell.
"Not to mention that Weevil would have had Aaron's head on a platter. And mine probably right with it, just for kicks" he thought to himself. Somehow he couldn't help but laugh out loud at the visual.
"Yo, Earth to Logan. You with me?" Miguel watched his friend closely for the first time today, realizing that he was not paying attention to a word he was saying.
"Should I be worried? Women, booze, X, ...? Champagne, Friends, Party...!" He was trying to reintroduce Logan to his train of thought, to no avail.
"OK! Spill! When I left you a couple of hours ago, you where high on life, chemicals, and sex. The crash cannot be that quick under any circumstances."
"Talking about chemicals, did you get a hold of JP? I'm not just out of beer." Logan asked, quickly returning to his usual boyish smile, his eyes sparkling once again.
"You're all set. He'll come around here at about 5. Let's go up and grab a drink! And here, take that, your mood gives me a headache." He handed Logan a little yellow pill. Popping the X with the rest of some stale champagne off the table, he followed his friend upstairs.
His mind slowly fogging up, his memories began to fade, causing him to forget once again why he wanted to talk to Duncan. His best friend in the world. His best friend, who he hadn't bothered to contact in 5 years.
Isn't life grand?