Weakness in Me - Part 1 of Even Angels Fall
"..And do you, Josephine Potter, take this man to be your--"
"No, I can't." Joey choked on her words and shoved the small bouquet into her fiancee's hands. "Dawson, I can't get married at twenty three years old. I'm sorry, I can't."
With that, she was running down the aisle and out the heavy carved doors of St. Pascels.
She awoke with a start. The dim light creeping through the thin curtains was just enough to let her eyes focus. She rubbed the sleep out of them and looked around the empty New York hotel room. The same dream. For the past five months, she'd had the same dream. It haunted whatever she got of sleep.
She had started to lie on the left side of the bed, thinking maybe it was her position that brought the dreams. But it wasn't. She gazed next to her, noticing neatly made bed. She wanted to cry.
It was an occurrence that happened seldom after her extravaganza's with one night stands. She let the tears come anyway.
A name and telephone number lay on top of the pillow. A business card, she knew them well now. Joey sighed thinking about the night before.
'John. This one's name was John.' She took the piece of paper and rubbed it between her fingers. She could call him, thank him for the previous night. But, It would sound desperate, and she was not desperate. Silently, she folded the paper in half. She ripped it twice and threw it behind her.
Ever since her dream had taken place in real life, she hadn't been the same nice-girl Potter. Hell, she wasn't sure if she ever had been nice-girl Potter. She'd moved out to New York a week after the incident, and had been there ever since, living off gifts from generous and not-so generous bachelors. There had been a few with pale rings around their ring finger, but it didn't matter. Money was money, and love was irrelevant to it.
She pulled herself from the hard hotel mattress without another thought. Threw on her clothes, grabbed her purse and started home.
Look at what you've made me into
Nothing more than a wreck that you use.
Wreaking of irresponsibility, and booze.
I lost my balance on the line of life.
Slipped off, but I guess I'll be alright.
She took a final drag of her cigarette and quickly demolished it in a nearby ashtray. The day had gone unbelievably fast. Bringing her, once again, to her favorite rendezvous -- Club American, the club of the month for Joey Potter. It was getting impossible not to be recognized there now. She'd have to pick out another club, just like a month ago.
'What else can you expect when you go to the same club every night, get the same drink and find the same type of guy.' She smirked and shoved the comment back into the shadows it came from. She stared down at her outfit for the second time since she'd left her small one bedroom flat. A tight black mini-skirt hugged her hips, with a white tube top and a small leather half jacket. It wasn't the best, but it was fine for a Thursday.
Joey thought about lighting up another cig and leaving the place. After all, what else did it have to offer. She looked around, recognizing a few faces from previous nights.
She hung her head, closing her eyes for re-encouragement. Her body was flooding with mixed emotions. Her mind, afraid they might remember her. Her heart, afraid they wouldn't.
Slowly she let her eyes explore once again. She exchanged smiles with the bartender, and decided against her instincts to leave. She knew his name by now, Russel. He wasn't ravishing, but he would do. He would do fine.
She sauntered over towards the bar, sporting a flirtatious smile. He returned it.
"Hey gorgeous, what's on your agenda tonight?"
"Tonic, crushed ice. Then I'll work on you."
He gave her a wink, admiring her cleavage. Then grabbed a glass from beneath the bar and filled her drink. When it was prepared to her desires he placed it infront of her.
"4.50."
She pretended to be shocked, "4.50? That's highway robbery. You can cut me a better deal can't you, Russ? I mean...it is Ladies night isn't it?"
"It is?" He stared blankly towards the also blank chalkboard listing their specials. "No Ma'am, I don't think so."
Ma'am? She cleared her throat.
"Excuse me?"
"Look, Ma-Miss. I have other customers," He tilted his head towards two blond girls, no older than eighteen and gave another arrogant wink. "..So if you don't want anything else..."
"No. I'm fine." She cursed herself for even bothering, pulled a five out of her purse and placed it under the glass.
"Drive carefully." He nodded her away and began discussing who-knows-what with the two bimbos.
"Yeah, fuck you too." She muttered, making sure he was still within hearing range. She took the last sip of her drink and slammed it back onto the counter. Licking the remaining off her lips, she left.
Joey barely got out of the club before he grabbed her arm and pulled her back in.
"Hey." She turned to face him. "I'm Chase. You are?"
"Out of here." She mumbled, pulling her arm back. He grabbed it again, giving her a hurt look.
"You don't want to stay and chat with Chase?"
She gave him a half-hearted smile and shook her head, "I have to get out of here."
'What's the problem with this one Potter. He's perfect, that's the problem.' Medium built, blue eyes, brunette and just her type. So why wasn't she attracted.
"Me too," he gave her a cunning smile. "Say, I know a coffee shop no more than three blocks from here. It's quant, quiet, and...I forgot the other 'q'."
'Queer comes to mind.' She smiled. "How about quick. I'll give you ten minutes." Her words were misinterpreted, causing her to blush immediately. "I'm sorry, that's not what I mean. It's just that I'm tired and..."
"Hey, no problem..." He moved his hand in a circular motion, a usual sign that the person wanted your name or more information. Joey played dumb. It was funny really. Watching a grown man move his hand around in circles...God what extra was in that tonic.
"I'm sorry I didn't catch your name..." What would tomorrow hold..A thank you note, left on the pillow..
"Jo. Jo Potter."
"Nice name." ..Perhaps a phone number..
"Thanks."
"No problem. So, you wanna go?" ..The sun, peaking through the thin hotel curtains, reminding her to leave...
She nodded. They linked arms and walked out of the club, not thinking about the next morning.
Cos I've been thinking
About our world tonight
Slowly sinking
Into my appetite
Tomorrow morning
Are you a friend of mine?
Passion.
An overwhelming passion. He touched her, she gasped and wished him on. His hands explore her tanned skin, caressing places through the fabric that he found most intriguing. She rested her forehead against his own, breathing nervously. Gently, she brushed her thighs against his own, rubbing her leg around his. The short skirt she wore, rode up an inch as did so, making him want her even more. Her hands raked through his hair, as she pulled his head closer to her own. Licking her lips anxiously, she closed her eyes and went in. Their lips met, sucking hungrily. She let her sexy whimper slip, causing him to moan in response. He loved her whimpers...she pulled away.
"Pacey," she whispered.
His eyes met hers and she spoke once more.
"I want a divorce."
It had been the biggest shock of his life. So unexpected...and that, had been the last time Pacey Witter, had seen his wife of three years, Andrea McPhee. Now, it was two years later. He walked the dark and empty streets of New York City, wondering what possibilities would come next.
He had let her keep the house back in Capeside, avoiding the fact they'd bought it together. "Let her be left with the memories," He muttered subconsciously. His plans of being happily married to his only love, living a life that no one could have possibly dreamed for a Witter, were shattered by the very one he wished to spend it with. His best friend, Dawson Leery, was nowhere to be found. After high school, Dawson and Joey had escaped from the providential town they'd grown up in, and planned to get married...he hadn't heard from either of them since.
He'd come to New York a month after the divorce was final. Almost everything he'd ever wanted was back in Capeside, and to live with it and know that he could never have it...he just couldn't.
The dim light from the street post above him vanished without a trace, leaving him in complete darkness. Was it a sign...?
No one, had ever felt as alone as Pacey did now.
I'm pushing zero, Where is my hero.
He's out there somewhere.
Left of the middle, And your world falls down.
Be kind, it's my first. :P
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