The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You
"Gaze into her killing jar, I'd sometimes stare for hours"
Sophie
Alarm goes off.
Hits it onto 'snooze'
Same old, same old.
Every day, the same routine.
Get up, got to work, try to survive, go home, sleep and repeat.
Is it pathetic to say I enjoy it? Is it stupid to say that I don't want to change it? It's comfortable right? I'm comfortable.
I groaned. Of course, if I could change it, I would. I do like my job but, I'm always doing something for other people, never anything for my benefit. I don't have those dreams anymore about being in a band and hitting it big and getting rich and creating amazing music. I had to change that idea for the better. For us to live.
I turned myself over in my bed and lifted myself up with my arms.
I rubbed my eyes with my hands, which were smeared with eyeliner, and looked around my room.
Everything was a mess. At least it looked better than Jazz's, I thought to myself. I don't even dare go in there. I swear everything in there was diseased. I remember I had gone in there once to clean and had discovered new species of amoeba feeding off of the coffee mugs and apple cores I had found under the bed.
Compared to her room, my room was the definition of clean. Look 'tidy' up in the dictionary and there's a picture of my room right next to the definition of 'diseased' which has a picture of Jazz's room next to it.
I could see my electric and acoustic guitars in the corner. I loved them both so much even though I wasn't very good. I knew a couple of Beatles songs but that was all my energy levels could amount to.
My desk was packed high of tapes that I had collected of different bands. Greenday, Metallica, the Misfits.Those tapes were like transports to other worlds where anything was possible and where I lived among intense, musical artist who spent all their time in cafes drinking lattes and discussing the meaning of 'life'.
I could see my large portfolio folder sitting on the shelf, waiting for me to go and take it to work.
Urgh. Work. I thought.
I worked as a secretary in a cartoon company. A lot of people worked there, drawing for corporations. What a way to live, I always thought, as I stared at the women and men all looking down at their desks towards their drawings. All so focused. When you talked to them, you could always tell they weren't really with you on this earth. They were always in other worlds full of super heroes and aliens and evil vampires and monsters. I did admire them but drawing for other people? That wasn't any way to live.
I drew a lot too. I loved to draw. It wasn't really cartoon though; more realism and portraits. I had always wanted to draw anime and cartoons but Jazz was the one for that. She was amazing at drawing anime.
I got up out of bed, feeling the cold suddenly hit my pale legs and feeling shivers running down my spine. This house was always cold; neither of us could afford heating.
I went to my cupboard and picked out my black skirt and shirt and put them on. I went down the hall into the bathroom and looked in the mirror which had been sprayed with purple hair spray the night before.
Jesus! I looked a state!
I was pale and had dark patches under my eyes. I tried to wipe them away with the back of my hand but I realised it wasn't eyeliner this time; it was from the lack of sleep I had. My imagination always ran wild at night so I was never a good sleeper, even when I was young. I put on some makeup to make myself look more respectable and combed through my black. It kept on sticking up at the back from the short layers. Why I let her cut my hair, I would never know. I tried to flatten it down with my hands but it just wouldn't work. I sighed and walked out of the bathroom.
I went downstairs slowly and the first thing that greeted me as I went into the kitchen was Jazz, lying on the floor, with her bag spilling out on to the tiles. I rolled my eyes; Jazz always liked to party. I heard her come in last night at about 2:00am and I could hear her being sick.
I got down on my knees and nudged her with my hand.
"Jazz? Hey, Jazz? Wake up!" I shoved her in the shoulder.
She grunted and opened her eyes. Her eyeliner had run down her cheeks and her florescent pink eye shadow had been smudged. She sat up and blinked at me. She never wore her glasses. She couldn't afford, as she said, 'cool ones'. I always told her that it was because she didn't have a job and that she was living off of the money I made. I didn't really mind that though, funding for us both. She always said to me that she would pay me back one day when her and her band hit it big. I never hold my breath though.
Jazz played bass for a band that she and some of our friends made up. It was your typical pop punk band. Well, not really. Jazz always said that it was a 'Nintendo core band". I didn't even know what Nintendo core was, but I thought their band was amazing. I loved their songs and that wasn't only because they were my best friends.
Jazz and I lived together in an apartment in New York. The 'posh' part. The 'stuck up bastards' part Jazz called it. God knows how we afforded to live here. So close to the shopping and cafes and all.
Jazz always made me see the brighter side of life. She was always laughing and joking and messing around. She was irresponsible, but that's why I liked her. She didn't have a care in the world. I always looked after her; helping her get out of trouble. She would go out a lot. I would usually come with her. If I didn't feel ugly or if I had work to do and we usually had a laugh. Even though she would always find a guy. But me? I always left the party empty handed. She was so creative and interesting and she thought differently about everything. She dug deeper into her thoughts than other people I knew.
Jazz lifted her hand up towards her spiky black and purple hair and rubbed her head. She groaned. And shut her eyes tightly.
"Hangover?" I asked, helping her get to her feet.
"Hmm… yeah. I can't even remember how I got back home. All I remember is throwing u-"
And that's when she trod in her own sick.
"Eewww!! Ew! Ew! Ew!" She started hopping around with her right foot in the air. She grabbed the table cloth from the small, round kitchen table we had and tried to wipe her foot with it.
"Hey!" I said, grabbing the cloth from her "We have to eat off of that!"
"Well, I have sick on my foot!" she growled.
She reached over to the paper towels and wiped her foot. I could hear her muttering 'ew, ew, ew' under her breath as she wiped the sick off her foot.
She washed her foot under the hot water tap and dried it with a tea towel. I couldn't help but laugh; she always did crazy stuff like that. She looked upset.
"What are you laughing at? This isn't nice, ya know!" she moaned
She started to wipe her own sick off of the black and white tiled floor.
Our kitchen isn't really what you called normal. We had florescent pink counter tops and black and white chequered tile floor. Our table had paint splodges on it from where me and Jazz had gone a little bit too far with our paintings and our curtains had prints of Hello Kitty on them. Enough to make anyone's eyes water.
She threw the paper towels into the bin and washed her hands.
"Well, at least I don't have to go out today" She said, sitting down on one of the pink chairs and sticking her feet up on the table. She picked up her issue of 'Kerrang!' out of her bag and started reading it.
"Yeah, lucky for some." I said, putting pop tarts in the toaster for each of us.
Jazz had really gone crazy when she had brought home a Hello Kitty shaped toaster.
"Yeah, well. You like all that work and junk." She said, her eyes scanning the pages.
"I don't like it. I have to do it if we want to live in a decent house and have some money." I put a pop tart on a plate for Jazz and handed it to her. Her eyes lit up when she saw it. Bless her, I thought. She's just like a little kid.
She started to eat it, getting jam all around her mouth. I sat down with mine and sighed.
"Urrggghh. I have a meeting today." I groaned, leaning my chin in my hand.
"Yeah? What for?"
"Some people from Cartoon Network are coming over. Something about a new cartoon by one of our employees. I'm really worried about it. I could make or break this opportunity."
"Seriously, Soph. One day, your jetset lifestyle is gonna drive you insane" Jazz said, staring back down at her 'Kerrang!'
I sighed.
"Yeah, 'spose."
The only thing interesting about my job was staring at all the amazing drawings that came to my office. I only worked on one floor; there were four floors in total to the company. But the office building we worked in? It had about 50 floors in total. It was massive! I remember getting lost the first few weeks. We were right opposite the twin towers too. I always thought they were amazing buildings and always looked out at them when I was writing.
I glanced at the clock (a pink one, I might add) and jumped up out of my seat.
"Shit! I'm late!" I ran out of the kitchen, leaving a bewildered Jazz staring after me, and ran upstairs to grab my portfolio. I put on my socks and boots and ran back downstairs.
"See you later. Oh, and don't get into any more trouble" I said, hugging her goodbye.
On Friday, when I left her by herself, she had put her bass guitar in the dishwasher. I remember sitting in the kitchen, drawing, when I heard a massive grumble of metal hitting metal as Jazz turned on the dishwasher. I had opened it up to see her bass in there. When I asked her why the hell she had thought of that idea, she had said to me 'it's because it looked dirty and I needed to clean it but I couldn't be bothered so I put it in there. Our dishes always looked shiny when they come out of there'
Sometimes, I wonder how she does it.
She hugged me back and said goodbye.
"Good luck at the meeting by the way, I know you'll do great!" She stuck both her thumbs up and smiled. I smiled back and ran down the hall and out of the door.
I got into my car, put my seatbelt on, and put the keys in the ignition. I heard the grumble of the engine. God, this car was old!
I pulled off of the side walk and drove down the streets.
It was a beautiful day, the air felt like it was shimmering with possibilities. The tarmac streets were already glistening from the heat and bumblebees, stupid from so much pollen, buzzed lazily around the 'stuck up bastard's' lavender bushes in their gardens.
I raced down the street and came into the heart of the city. I loved it that I worked here. There was always something to look at. Everything was alive and colourful here. Everyone looked happy.
I passed the hotel Bella Muerte which was just on the outskirts of the city by a busy motorway and smiled. Me and Jazz had had a party in one of the rooms there once with a few of our friends. That was when I didn't have a job and we were living off money from our families and from benefits. The music had been so loud and we had been so drunk and young and carefree. There were quite a few complaints and in the end the cops came and shut down the party. It had been an amazing night though. It was a shame we couldn't do those parties anymore. Jazz always wanted to, but I was always too busy.
My car started to slow as it hit the traffic which was always here to greet me on a Monday morning. I put my mix tape into the tape player and smiled as one of my favourite songs came on. I got lost in the music and started singing along with my window wide open. I smiled and sang as the heat hit my face; warming every part of me.
The traffic started moving; I smiled and carried on singing to the next song.
I heard a car beep behind me. I thought they were beeping at me to go faster so I turned around, ready to shout out that I couldn't go any faster, when I saw a man with his head against the steering wheel. He had shoulder length black hair which was shining in the sun light. He looked up and started drumming his fingers against his wheel. He looked very pale and worn out. No wonder, I thought, everyone who works here is always worn out.
He had brown eyes which shone as the light hit them and had practically every single shade of brown in the colour spectrum. His dark eyebrows were straight in concentration and anger; like he was thinking about something. I would've like to have learnt his name, he looked like an interesting guy; someone like me.
I suddenly heard a beep behind me. I turned back around to look at the car in front and saw that there was a huge gap between me and the Ferrari in front. I picked up speed and drove forwards, groaning as I missed the lights.
I soon arrived at the office. I parked my car in the already cramped car park and got out. I brushed my hair from my face and walked towards the sliding glass doors, hoping today would be a good day. I greeted the man on the reception desk. I still didn't know his name, even after three years of working here.
The greeting room was a large room with glass walls. It had a high ceiling and made you feel like you were in a jar, where people were always telling you that you are doing something wrong, where people killed possibilities for you. There was a large red carpet, which looked royal and well kept. Everywhere you looked there were people in suits and work clothes all rushing around trying to get to meetings or offices. Everyone was so into their jobs here.
I sighed and went to the elevator on my right and pressed level 35. I waited with the other people in there.
It was like everyone knew that I wasn't as rich as them. They all edged away from me as if I was something dirty on the street. It's like the rich could smell the poor. I smiled to myself at that crazy idea and got out at my level. I walked down the isle to my desk, staring at everyone in their cubicles on my way down. All of them concentrating on their portfolios or phone calls or notes from a meeting.
Oh crap! The meeting! I ran faster, trying to avoid slipping over on my heels which I always did. I was so used to converses.
I reached the meeting room and, with shaking hands, opened to door.