yeah, I know, I've been literally gone for almost a year. I am the worst.
but here we go with another update, so very long overdue. it's not as funny as the others. it's got a bit of seriousness to it, considering just how close our characters are getting to new year's.
hope you enjoy (and you don't hate me as much as i think you do).
xx
.:. december 29th .:.
part II
"Uck." Skye scowled. "What are you doing here?"
"You mean you're not happy to see me?" The smirk on Chris' face was so apparent, even though Massie and Alicia were currently huddled behind him, unable to see it.
There was silence, the kind that made anyone around the right amount of awkward. An odd sort of feeling crept up Massie's spine; she wanted to turn hell right then and there and run.
Chris, however, seemed to relish this reaction, and he chortled. "I don't want to be here any more than you want me here, princess," he retorted.
A rather unattractive sound escaped Skye. Alicia frowned as the girl's angered yet still high-pitched, Valley Girl-esque voice rang out: "And you're here for what reason, then?"
The boyband member took a step forward, entering the living room. Massie grabbed Alicia's wrist in a terrified sort of manner. She felt so exposed without Chris' back pressed up against her side.
"These girls downstairs were fighting over what song you wrote about me, and I grew curious, so . . ."
Alicia snorted, because oh my god are you SERIOUS, and Massie slapped her free palm over her mouth. Neither of the famous people in the next room over seemed to notice.
There was a rather extended period of silence right then, and Massie took a deep breath before popping her head around the corner. Skye was staring at Chris so blankly it was hysterical, though her face was as pale as ever, and her hair was an absolute mess. She was clearly suffering from a hell of a hangover. If Massie remembered correctly — and she didn't, not really — Skye had drank enough for about three people last night.
(Then again, so did Massie.)
(But she wasn't as hungover as Skye seemed; she wasn't hungover at all, so HA.)
"I'm waiting," Chris urged, tapping his foot.
"Since it matters so much," mocked Skye, voice monotone, "it's 'Underneath My Skin.' It's the only one written solely about you."
"Are you kidding me?!" Chris all but seethed. "That's — that's the worst one! The guy sounds like . . . he's . . . how dare you."
Absolutely startling laughter filled the room. Skye was getting a kick out of Chris' obvious anger. Alicia seemed to enjoy knowing what song was about him, too, but Massie unfortunately wasn't that much of a Skye Hamilton fan, so she wasn't sure what the big deal was. She'd have to look up the lyrics when this whole thing finally blew over.
"Why the face, Plovert?" Skye inquired. "It's not like you and the rest of your silly little band didn't write 'Rescue Me' about me."
Massie elbowed Alicia lightly, breathing, "'Rescue Me'?" in her ear.
"The single before this one," the Latina responded just as quietly. "Uh, you'll remember it mostly by the . . . rescue me, you've officially gone crazy, I never wanted you around . . ."
The other girl vaguely remembered hearing this on the radio. It was such a mean pop song she laughed every time she heard it, and, if she were being honest, she might have put it on her "Fuck You Ex-Boyfriend" playlist . . .
They missed a good portion of Skye and Chris' conversation during their small interaction, and when they resumed their listening, Skye was asking, "Okay, what are you really doing here?"
"I'm here to blackmail you," he said rather bluntly.
"— Excuse me, what —"
Alicia tugged Massie by their connected wrists, the latter's fingers in a death grip around the former. The two stumbled into view, and Skye all but screamed, but kept her cool, instead shoving a number of fries in her mouth.
Once she swallowed, her eyes narrowed at the sight of Massie. "You."
"Yes, me," snapped Massie, not liking her tone. "It's nice to see you again, Skye."
"Listen, you can stop stalking me, alright? No matter what you do, I'm not going to play your dumb New Year's Eve thing, 'kay?"
This little singer was starting to sound more and more like Massie and Alicia had in middle school. How pleasant.
With each passing second Massie grew more and more irritated with the girl, and she wasn't even talking half the time. She made a mental note to apologize profusely to her parents and anyone else she had been overtly rude to in her younger years — of course, this would happen after she listened to that one song of Skye's and then rocked out to 'Rescue Me.' She had a feeling she'd understand every word of that song once she was done with this.
Chris let out such a loud cackle Massie jumped. "Dumb New Year's Eve thing?" he echoed. "Ha! Do you know how many artists would kill to perform at Times Square when the ball drops? Are you kidding me? Do you think you're so privileged now that even something like that is beneath you?"
"I can't do it. I don't want to do it!" Skye shot Chris a dirty look, which he evenly matched. Alicia looked as if she were aching to write about this on her website. "Thank you for the opportunity or whatever," she said to Massie, "but I have to decline. I called your agency or what have you and told them the exact same thing. Something came up and I cannot commit any longer —"
"You're such a flake, you know that?" spat Massie, moving closer to Chris as to get a better look at the girl. She was pathetic, sitting there in her misery, drinking coffee and eating the greasiest food in an attempt to cure her nasty hangover. "You have all these fans, you promised all these people, and you just . . . back out? I don't care what it is that you would rather be doing, but you will perform on that stage two days from now! You will sing the mandatory five songs, you will be pleasant, you will wish everyone a Happy New Year. My job is on the line here, Skye. You can be a stuck up, self-observed brat first thing January, but for every second of December, you will be grateful for every opportunity you have been given, and you will think of others —"
"I CAN'T BECAUSE I'M GOING TO REHAB FIRST THING TOMORROW MORNING!" Skye shrieked in an attempt to be heard over Massie's angry tirade.
The silence that fell over the four of them was worse than anything they had ever experienced and Chris thought he'd seen hell before, in the form of fangirls. But this . . . this was worse.
Massie's mouth opened and shut so many times her throat started to ache. Alicia's palms twitched and she had to calm herself in the wake of this startling news. If she could be the first one to release it . . . Her gossip website would skyrocket in popularity, and it was already one of the most popular pages on the Internet.
Chris seemed to be the only one with the ability to speak. "Rehab?"
If Massie hadn't seen firsthand — at least for a little bit — and the pictures to prove it she wouldn't have believed it. Skye Hamilton in rehab? It was unthinkable if you thought her show personality was her real one. Before yesterday, Massie would never have thought Skye even knew what alcohol was, or what drugs were, or whatever substance she was abusing was.
But now . . .
The next thing they all heard was Chris' hysterical laughter.
.:.
"Here, drink this." Chris placed a glass of colored liquid in front of Massie.
Massie lifted it rather robotically, staring at it as if it held all the answers of the universe. "What is it?"
"Scotch," said Chris. "It'll help."
"Will it give me my job back?"
"Um . . . I don't think alcohol has that power, unfortunately."
"Ah, well." Massie shrugged and knocked it back in one go, wiping her wet lips with the back of her hand. "Hit me again."
Chris did as he was told, turning his back and grabbing another glass. If she was going to drink her sorrows away, he might as well too. Not that he had any sorrows to drink away; he'd just have to drink to be a good friend. Because they were friends. Somehow.
They clinked their glasses and once again Massie downed it. She tapped the rim of the glass as if Chris were a bartender and with a sigh, he turned again. This time, he brought the whole bottle of scotch over, along with a thing of tequila, figuring they might need it.
In the background, they could hear Alicia yelling to someone at her office about the recent Skye Hamilton discovery. "I'm sending you as much information as I can, Kori!" she snarled. "My texts are going as fast as I would like! — I don't care if you have plans tonight, I want this out ASAP! She's going tomorrow. I want to be the first to have news of this, do you understand me? Move it!"
Massie met Chris' eyes. "She's gonna need one of these as well."
"Already got it covered," he replied, sliding a full glass to the empty seat on Massie's left.
Alicia ended the call rather angrily, slamming her phone down on the countertop with no care for it at all. Without a word, she took a tentative sip of the drink, and made a face at the taste. "I hate scotch," she muttered. "Is this tequila?"
No one answered her. She gripped the other bottle by the neck, analyzed it, and proceeded to pour her helping of scotch into Chris' empty glass. She replaced the darker liquid with the clear, dropped an ice cube in it, and seemed more at ease with this choice.
And then the trio sat in silence, looking very much the part of mourners after a funeral.
They weren't sure how long they sat there. If the near empty bottles were any indication, they had probably been there for hours. Not talking, just drinking.
It was at that point that Derrick finally decided to return.
Massie couldn't remember what he'd been up to while her blackmail fabulously failed, but his arrival brought butterflies to her stomach. Her heart started to beat faster and faster until she was sure it was going to burst right out of her chest, and she felt like she was going to vomit.
Well, that could have been from the alcohol, not him.
"Bro," Chris drawled, "we're out of scotch."
"Did I not get invited to the party?" the blonde asked. He moved around the table to get to the kitchen, hand brushing against Massie's back. His touch made her swallow the rest of her drink rather quickly, and she shuddered.
"There's still tequila, no worries," Alicia told him, pushing the drink in question towards him. "I have been drinking this straight because Chris is a bad host."
"I am a very good host! The best host!"
"You're going to write a mean song about me."
"I said it would be a club banger!"
"But it's going to be mean."
Derrick shot Massie a confused look, and she forced the fakest smile on her face. "Skye's going to rehab tomorrow!" she announced grandly. She let him digest this information, reaching over for the tequila near him, and taking a long pull — which, in hindsight, probably wasn't her best idea.
"Rehab," he echoed. "For what?"
"America's little princess has an alcohol problem," answered Chris, and then with an inebriated giggle: "Isn't that funny?"
"So funny," Massie agreed. "I am laughing so hard." She drank some more, no one moving to stop her. "I'm so going to get fired. This is it. This is the end." She sighed, twisting her hair around her fingers. "Couldn't her mother or whatever admit her after New Year's? Why is everyone so selfish? I'm . . . I'm going to write her a strongly-worded letter."
Chris slammed his hand on the counter. "Yes! Strong words! Incorporate how much I hate her!"
"It will go like this . . ." Massie cleared her throat. "Dear Skye Hamilton and Co., I am currently writing you this letter from my new house: A box in some dark, sketchy alleyway. Because you did not perform at Times Square on New Year's, I was subsequently fired, my reputation tarnished, and no one would hire me since I am untrustworthy. I wanted to thank you for helping me meet my new friend, a rat whom of which I've named Randy. He is my only friend. Signed, Massie Block. P.S. Chris Plovert hated you last time I spoke with him, and I'm sure he still does."
Chris applauded her. Derrick decided it was high time to take the alcohol away from these children.
Just as his back turned, Massie's lightheartedness took a turn for the worst, and with an earsplitting wail, she broke: "I'M GOING TO GET FIRED!"
.:.
Some time later, Alicia and Chris had passed out on their couch, limbs tangled despite the fact that they had been doing nothing but arguing. Her head rested on his chest, one of his arms was flung over her. It was hard to believe she'd been into Cam last night.
But Derrick was not with them, not that he'd want to be anyway.
His hands held back Massie's hair as she threw up, fingers deftly braiding the long locks back. Massie gagged, over and over, over and over, over and over. She spit up, she vomited, she spit up again. It was a never-ending cycle.
"You know, if you hadn't drank so much this wouldn't have happened," he commented lightly.
She leaned her clammy forehead on the toilet seat. "I have to call Griffin tomorrow and . . ." she trailed off, her entire body seizing as if she were about to throw up again, but she didn't. "And . . . and tell him Skye isn't doing it . . . and I'm going to get fired."
Derrick applied pressure to her shoulder blades, massaging her back as she sat pitifully in front of the toilet. "All you have to do is ask, Massie."
"Ask what?" She took a deep breath, calming herself.
He leaned forward, kissed her collarbone. "We'll perform. I've told you this before. We're not doing anything that day. We were just gonna watch the ball drop."
"I can't ask you to do that," she said, turning to him.
"Why not?"
"Because I got Skye Hamilton. We've told everyone it was Skye Hamilton —"
" — so? It can be us —"
"Even if I got a replacement, even if I asked you . . . I'm still the one getting in trouble. I'm the one that was hired for this kind of thing and I couldn't even get Skye to commit. Regardless of her situation — and let me tell you, Griffin will not care in the slightest — I will be taking the blame. I will be fired whether or not Low State plays. It doesn't matter who does it in the end, but because Skye will not, I'm gone."
"Massie," Derrick ground out, not able to see the problem here, "just ask!"
"No. I can't. I want to, but I c—" She stopped abruptly, and instead of words, every last ounce of alcohol left her mouth.
i'd say we've got about two more chapters left. not sure if i'll incorporate december 30th or not- i might just jump to the 31st. but who knows!
again, sorry for the long long long long wait, and if you're feeling inclined, please check out the prologue for my harry potter fic entitled 'hell bound' and let me know if you're diggin the concept or not (wink wink nudge nudge pls love me)