Kenny's mouth meets Bryn's with not so much of an innocent gentleness. He digs a hand in her hair and grabs her until they're closer. This is the moment. This is their time. No one could interrupt them and she'd make sure no one would even think to.
"I've longed for this, Bryn."
Her head snaps back in ecstasy and she inhales their love like second-nature. Her arms loop around his neck and she leans into his embrace, gasping for air as Kenny's mouth impacts on her throat and goes lower to her collarbone. Hearing him say beautiful things was like music to her ears. Just like the classic rock she loves.
"By fucking far, Kenny,"
His back strikes against the wall and they're readying their minds. Whatever's possible to not ignore at this moment of the only time they're able to secure together.
She fiddles with the buttons of his shirt and he goes for her jacket. They're almost there.
Stockings ripped halfway down her legs, collar on his shirt rumpled and torn. It reminds her of how she is. Broken.
He takes her mouth again in a kiss that could kill with only passion and his belt crashes onto the marble. The talking is done. It's only just begun.
BANG BANG BANG –
With a thump, a very-alone Bryn's back collides with the carpet of the main room and she's tangled in blankets she took from Harper's room. In her coffee-stained pajamas, hair disheveled not in a good way, and her clothes from yesterday smelling like vodka and soapsuds from the foam party after Rodney's.
She was still hurting. From all of the dancing to Deadmau5's hits, being showered in foam, and draining everyone's vodkas was the life of a punk-rocker. Kenny never called her like he promised and she couldn't care. She was the modern-day Joan Jett.
At least that was what her thoughts told her.
She unravels herself from the blankets and finds her cigarettes, a lighter. She lights one and lets it burn for a few moments before the banging of the door repeats. So that's what woke her.
Bryn trudges slowly to the door and doesn't care to check who. Carefully unlocking it, she steps back to who came at this unearthly hour to torment her life. Tinsley.
Tinsley?
"Morning?" Bryn raises an eyebrow and comes to notice the wrinkles in Tinsley's clothes, the messy fashion of her hair, the redness of her face. She would laugh if she were more awake. "Something I should know about?"
"Just tell me where your brother is." Tinsley is expressionless at Bryn's surprise but Bryn steps aside and points around to where her room was. Even she knew when to shut her mouth when it was necessary. She'd never thought but maybe she'd be thankful after she finished ripping Harper a new-one.
Bryn holds the cigarette to her mouth and drags. "Just don't wreck my room," she commands simply. Tinsley's already shooting up the steps and she can only sigh. "Harper ripped the Duff McKagan poster off my door. It was one of his sexiest shots and it was signed."
Tinsley's already at the top of the stairs and forms a tiny smile. "I'll make him pay for it."
"That's all I ask."
Bryn returns to the couch and wraps a blanket over her shoulders. She'd have to blast Metallica to block out the screams to come from her room. And not like the screams she wishes to do for Kenny.
Clicking on the TV, she sits and watches VH1 Classic until her Blackberry beeps.
Bryn opens it and notices a new text message. Everything in her immediately brightens in enthusiasm. Finally, Kenny actually chose to message her after all this time. She missed him.
But when she opens the message, her cheerfulness deflates.
It was from Steven, saying: wanna chill at Matt's? I'll come get u in thirty
She looks back upstairs to where Tinsley and Harper had gone but hears nothing. Just like how Kenny left her. Feeling like nothing.
I'd love to! Call me when u're outside!
It'd be so much better to relax with friends before bumming out over her M.I.A boyfriend.
X
The tears leak freely from Claire's eyes as she chokes her duvet. A little sob resounds from her as she tries to figure out what exactly went wrong. Was there a third-party? Complications with their work schedules? Their love tanks running dry?
Who knows? They already had divorce papers on the table.
That mere thought forced more tears to her eyes. Divorce? What's divorce? What has it resorted people to? Broken people? Shattered minds? When people are saying their vows it should be till divorce do you part. It was just too much for her to intake.
Someone knocks on her bedroom door. "Clary, honey. May I come in?"
She doesn't even answer. Her father opens her door an inch before stepping in and shutting it. It barely took a blink of an eye to assess the anxiety fixed in his smile and the disfigurement of his Savile Row suit. Before she could even fight it, a trickling of tears gushed down her face and she sobbed like a child.
Her father approached her and slid a comfortable arm over her shoulders. "Don't cry, Clary," His smile becomes fleeting and he goes to wipe her tears. "what your mother and I are going through is only temporary. I swear on myself that this won't be forever."
She shakes her head and tears drip onto her palms. "Y-You shouldn't say that," she mumbles and struggles for air. "The Blackwells already lost their dad."
His smile quivers and he takes a hand to his premature gray hair. "Forgive me, then." His apology is so dull and unlike himself, she'd rather suffocate herself with a pillow than hear it. "This is a hard time for all of us but it'll become much easier, darling. This is only like an intermission."
She sniffles and wipes her eyes with her duvet. Not caring when the mascara inks the fabric. "Except I'm not having fun."
"Me either." He checks his Rolex and frowns. "I'm running late. We'll continue this next time, okay? I'll treat you to Kittichai. I know how you love their Thai curry."
It's been so long since they've been there. She's surprised he remembers that little tidbit about her. "Okay, sure,"
Her father exits her room swiftly. There's a shuffling of shoes and she's quiet until she hears the door slam and a new mewling of tears.
Carefully, Claire tiptoes from her room. Knotting the belt on her silk bathrobe and checking around the interior of her extravagant home. Tulips in china vases, famous Michelangelo paintings in the foyers, shiny chandeliers in the main rooms. It's all forgotten when she sees her mother on the couch, blotting her eyes with a tissue.
It's been such a long time since her heart's been broken. At this moment it happens before she knows it. "Mother?" Her voice doesn't even come out audible because her mother is still drying her eyes and rubbing her nose. "Mother, is everything alright?"
Her mother meets her eyes and nods like how she does with her friends when something's obviously wrong. "Yes, Clarissa. There's no need to fret." Claire waits for her to notice the mascara evident on her cheekbones. She doesn't. Maybe she just doesn't care. "What we're going through is just a mild conflict. I'm sure we'll be ourselves again when it's all over."
She finally understands what it means when people say they have a lump in their throat. "When the divorce is finalized?"
The older woman blinks timidly and snatches another tissue to blow her nose into. "That may take longer than I've hoped for," She exhales and covers her arms around herself. "I was talking about moving out of here."
"Wait. What?" The tears have returned without her realizing. "Da – Father never said anything about that!"
"He was always one to make me have to say the deal-breakers." Her mother rolls her eyes and acknowledges Claire's tears with a disappointed scowl. "Dry your tears, Clarissa. They're nothing but signs of weakness."
Something icy chills her bones. "Luciana knows best, doesn't she?"
The former's eyes narrow. No one has ever favored the Blackwells' mother. "She certainly does." Claire watches her take her Sidekick from the coffee table. "Maybe we'd be able to stay in Aunt Gwyneth's villa in Verona. I hear Juliet's balcony is gorgeous."
Her heart fades out of her. Moving? Leaving New York? Her friends? For Italy?
It just couldn't be.
She wants to cry but she can't.
Tears only meant weakness.
X
"A trim, please." Floria directs the receptionist at the desk of the new hair salon on her block. It was pretty nice if she did say so herself. Her friends have been commenting on their good service and how dead-ass hot the shampoo boys are. It made her feel like she was cheating on her frequent hairstylist. Just a trim wouldn't do either of them harm.
The receptionist directs her to the chairs and she heads over. Steals herself the current issue of Rolling Stone and flips through it. The bell on the door rings and she ignores it, just waiting for one of the hairstylists to appear and compliment her as they even do for her friends.
"It's so packed today. Thus, this makes me a prideful woman," Floria's heart leaps into her throat as she fights the urge to see who lingers at the counter. "Brooklyn is so distasteful. I only chose to have this location because of my husband. He simply adores the old restaurants here." She feels eyes – her eyes. "Who might we have today?"
Noisy platforms click over to her. Without further distractions from anything else, she looks to meet Coach Harmon's wife. Her hair in a ballet bun and wearing no makeup but only chandelier earrings and her wedding ring. Even without the makeup, her complexion was close to perfect. Something that not even facials could bring someone.
She hopes the woman can't hear her heartbeat. "Hi, Mrs. Harmon, I hope you're good."
"Call me Ruby." Ruby catches her eyes in the mirror and narrows hers as Floria drops her gaze. "I hadn't an idea that you frequent my shop. I would've definitely stopped by more often to see you. Floria, is it?"
Her embarrassment multiplies. Since when has Ruby known her name? She only just met her once before and had never gave out her name. Did the Coach tell her? Maybe so. She doesn't even know what to think anymore.
This being Ruby's business was a negative for her. Why did she have to choose the salon she owned? There wasn't any more awkwardness than that.
"Yes." Floria confirms and focuses on the stupid article in her hands. "Your place is really nice."
"I'd say so." Ruby smiles with the confidence only a married woman has. "Mind if I experiment with your hair? Your curls are absolutely flawless and I'd love to give you a trim on the house since this is the first time I've seen your cute self in so long."
Ruby calling her cute sounds like an insult. Like she's just some little girl compared to this big corporate entrepreneur woman.
It's as if she would've done it without her confirmation. Ruby rifles through her handbag and manages with a set of lavish hair clippers. She nonchalantly twirls Floria's curly ponytail and admires the midback length she had. It'd grown since earlier in the year and she was becoming accustomed to having it grown-out.
"Only a trim, though." Floria clarifies as she once again finds Ruby's eyes in the reflection. Her glare focuses on Floria's ponytail and this makes fear bloom from within her. The type that makes someone want to run and cower and never come haunt anyone again.
"Really? I find that not suiting you." Ruby snatches her ponytail and lops half of it off with a heart-stopping snip. Floria watches the hunk of curls flutter onto the tiles at her toes. "Short hair fits your face as it does Liza Minnelli. Judy Garland's daughter? Ah, forget it. You're too young but I won't dare give you that. Shoulder-length is good, yes?"
She probably wouldn't get a choice, anyway. "That's perfect."
Ruby gives her a horrifying smile but before she could continue to prod and chop Floria's hair, her phone begun to sing a Robin Thicke song and she went to retrieve her expensive phone from her dress pocket. Her entire form beamed and Ruby answered the call.
"Hello, Hunter!" Floria's heart returns to her throat. "No, I'm not doing anything important. I've made our reservations tonight in your favorite restaurant! Oh, yes. I can't wait either."
While Ruby walks into the lounge, Floria grabs her coat and with half of a ponytail, she hurries to hail a cab and go find some friends that could repair her massacred self and haircut.
X
Harper is met with a pillow to the face and an angry Tinsley. The two things he never figured that he'd have to deal with.
"Do you even realize what you've done?" Tinsley demands and his head throbs at the volume of her voice. He remembers all of the drinks he'd swigged yesterday and dancing to music he's never heard of. Those were his last memories of yesterday before everything went blank. Harper thinks to prod himself of something more but finds nothing. It must've been quite the night.
Tinsley looks disgusted. Something he never expected to see directed at him. "Do you even remember what happened last night?" He can only shake his head and shrug a shoulder. "Seriously? You're horrible."
"I only remember being at Rodney's after Claire called me saying it was an emergency." Harper explains and searches his filtered mind for more. "And taking that one shot with … oh. Oh, crap! Tyler!"
Tinsley nods and crosses her arms. She's still displeased at his late emotions. "My brother got home drunk on who-knows-what yesterday. He didn't even know who I was! Do you realize how sad that is to see your thirteen-year old brother drunk? How would you feel if Bryn came to you high –"
"Technically, she already has." Harper smiles and laughs wrongly. "Come on, Tinsley. I'm sorry. I didn't know what got into me. It was just a one-time situation."
"You're right it was." Tinsley nods and her eyes shift to his disheveled appearance. He doesn't look like himself and that furthers her revulsion. It made her sick how Bryn was fine with her brother drinking and doing whatever else in a cheap underground club. "This also means you'll no longer be around my brother. Not as long as you're like this."
He can't help it. He laughs. "Tinsley, really? I just said it was an accident and you're still acting like this? What really is wrong with you?"
"A lot, apparently." Her eyes are narrow and unforgiving. "Especially if I chose to date you."
Harper finally frowns and she notices how delayed he is today. Usually, he's never like this and is always prepared to fight for what he wants. What she sees here, a monster of hate drugs and unkempt everything. This wasn't the Harper she fell for. This is a ruin of her old herself but in his form.
It makes her feel so repulsed.
"I guess so but that's more your fault." He raises his hands in a shrug and when he goes to straighten himself against the bedframe, he cringes and groans something of pain. Clutches his knee and reels back in Bryn's bed.
She waits for his quirky response but only sees him shut his eyes and try to minimize the pain within his leg by massaging circles around it. He catches her gaze and suddenly she sees her Harper again.
"Let me see." she instructs and gestures the blankets aside to see his bad knee. Before she can control herself, she flinches as if she were struck by lightning. That wasn't healthy. Those deep purple bruises like he accidentally dropped a hammer on himself. It just wasn't normal. "Harper, that needs to be checked out, like, right now."
Harper cradles his injured leg and rubs it carefully. The poised face and jutted mouth makes him look like Bryn. "I thought you were angry with me."
"I am." As if her anger was never broken, she's close to fuming again but softens at his injury. "Please just get that checked. That isn't normal … all of that makes you look alienated and especially since it's really affecting you physically. Please just be careful, I don't want anything happening to you."
He slides both of his feet on the carpet, his legs not even balancing on them. "It'll be fine." he assures and uncuffs his pant leg to hide the damage. "Some strain won't do me any permanent damage. The coach always tells us to work harder."
"There's a difference between working hard and completely exhausting yourself."
"I don't overwork myself. I'm more than prepared to give it care."
Tinsley's eyes are still dark like Bryn's when she's angry. "I'm sure you aren't with everything on your lacrosse plate."
"Can we not talk about this?" Harper attempts to comb his fingers through his hair but only worsens the messiness, which he doesn't seem to notice. "I'll take care of it. I don't need any additional stress right now on my state of being." He unlocks the door and it creaks open, he pops his head out to look around before maneuvering into the halls.
He clamps a hand on the doorjamb and manages something that isn't a Harper-smile. "Tell Tyler I'm sorry."
She has to ask. She doesn't even know what to think any more about this. "Where are you going?"
"To take a shower. I smell like pot."
Strike #3 on her list of Harper troubles: he didn't even bother to hide the admittance of his voice. This wasn't her Harper at all.
This was wrong.
X
"I'm really sorry, Miss Officer." The day after a party in an underground club in Manhattan, Lorena was called to arrest two drunk-and-disorderly teens. Girls close in age to her son. The other was unconscious and taken into custody. The one she was left with had sobered enough to claim her innocence and was sitting in the backseat in handcuffs. It was better than having to use force. As much as she liked her job, she'd rather not have to fight with kids. "Like, I'm ultra-sorry but I am not drunk."
Lorena rolls her eyes and leans against the car-door. "Do you even know where you are, Natasha?"
The tiny teen blinks and raises her hands to hold her face. "Manhattan?"
"Well, yes." Lorena looks around for street names and boulevards. Finding no signs, she contemplates calling her subordinates but thinks not to. "Fine, we're in Manhattan." She unclips the walkie-talkie from her belt and clicks it on. "Nell, where are you? Where are you?"
Coming 'round, Lorena.
"Think you can take the drunk schoolgirl to the precinct? She's heavily intoxicated and is need of a desperate phone-call and a shower."
Chuckles, jingle of keys. I'll be there in a few.
When she returns to meet Natasha's eyes, she finds her glaring and pouting. "I am not drunk."
"Listen, you really need to quit that." Lorena commands and the girl huffs like a disappointed toddler. She can't help but roll her eyes again and wait for Nell, glaring at the streets through her aviators and looking for anything strange. Which isn't exactly new around here but anything 'particularly' is now enlisted as a crime.
She loves her job. She wouldn't be Officer Stradlin without it. Yes, at times, she does wish she had more time off and didn't have to always be temporarily on-duty when she's not. Matt already doesn't see his father. She could allow herself when he's nearly all he has.
Her fingers shiver. All he has.
From a distance, someone slams their car shut and the street-vendors aggressive words give her a headache. It must just be the work-stress. That's it. Work-stress.
Lorena sighs and snatches her walkie-talkie off her belt too roughly. It clatters onto the concrete and she groans but before she goes to get it, someone has it before she does.
Mr. Perfect AKA Nick Lösenberg.
"Oh, Nick. How ever did you find me?" Lorena snatches her communicator from him. "I thought you fired your PI after we divorced!"
"I called your job." She's surprised at his effort but doesn't say more. "I really needed to talk to you and they've said you were on Lexington. It's not much of a challenge to find a cop around here."
Natasha gasps dramatically at Lorena. "You're a cop?"
Nick laughs, Lorena glares. "I sure hope so."
"Oh, wow." The younger girl slouches in her seat. "That's very surprising."
Lorena turns from her and reattaches the walkie-talkie to her waist. "Ignore her. What'd you want, anyway?"
"Matthew admitted to wanting nothing to do with me." Nick's gaze is like usual again. Purely professional. "How do you expect me to react to something like that?"
"You've brought this on." she repeats for what feels like the hundredth time. Nick always comes to her, expecting her to use Mother Magic and repair the broken bond he has with their son. As much as she's tried to help, Matt is hell-bent on his choices. She's useless when arguing with him about Nick. "I've told you year-and-year again to go to his shows, recitals, birthdays. Every response I've got from you was in an email and not even in a phone-call to your son asking, 'Oh, can we hang out another day?' Don't blame Matt for giving up. I would too. Fuck, I did when I divorced you. You're hopeless."
Nick sighs in exhaustion and she can see her former-husband in it. She can see the Nick that would come home and fall asleep on the couch after long hours in NYU, the man that would always take his son to Central Park and throw a baseball around until the sun was gone, the man who'd take her to see The White Stripes and not complain when she fawned over Jack White.
That was her husband. This was not.
"You're right but at least I try." His declaration is unlike anything he's ever said in a long time. "I've always tried to have my son and wife back."
"A week must be so long in your terms." Saying something cruel has come as a reflex to her in this current time. "I'll give you two weeks before you give up again and drown yourself back in work and freaking out my kid."
Her kid. She says it like Matthew is only hers. He's his, too. It makes him angry but he knows better than to start with Lorena when she's working. Especially when she has a gun on her.
"He's mine, too. He always has been." A superb ring gleams on his fingers as he holds his chin. Something that he must've brought with his huge salary. It made her sick again.
She looks for words but cuts herself off to relax her temples. Maybe Nell had Advil in his car.
"Is everything alright?" he asks and she holds her forehead to meet his concerned gaze. "You haven't been yourself lately."
"Neither have you." she grumbles. "It's probably just the weather. Or work."
"You need to be careful." he warns and gives her that look he'd begun doing after she left the hospital with a newborn Matt. The critical anxiousness that was able to cut through her so easily back then. "Just please don't overextend yourself, Lorena. I really don't want another call from Lenox-Hill."
"I'll do my best." Lorena vows and is unsure of her own promise. She watches Nell's patrol car come from the distance and gestures for a drowsy Natasha. "If my day isn't as complicated, I'll try to call you later."
"You do that." Nick leans back and smiles nicely in her weary eyes. "Get rest, too."
She salutes him as he leaves. It was nice to see her do that because she only does for people she respects.
X
"Where's your coat, dude?" Bryn says as she leaves the mansion and meets Steven by the gates. He was wearing a plaid shirt with torn cuffs and rugged jeans with his favorite Vans. It wasn't exactly cold outside but was windy and she was shivering even in her maroon trench. "It's like the Ice Age out here."
"Seeing as I biked here, I get pretty hot easily." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively before laughing off, directing to his orange bike chained to a telephone pole. "I'm still working on getting that new used car. Cheap income is a bitch for sure."
Bryn heads over to unchain and steady his bike. "Shotgun is so mine." He holds the bike as she props herself into the basket after unlocking it, returning to stare at him. "I can always help you with the down payment on that car you want."
He laughs dismally. "No, you won't."
"Come on, don't you really want that car?" she taunts willfully as Steven steers them onto the street. The mansion getting further off as she swings her legs around. "It's better than getting helmet hair from your gross helmet."
Steven turns a block. "I don't always get helmet hair."
"I'm sure you don't." She startles as the bike hits a street bump and takes it as her karma to stop. "Just … you know, I'm here if you need anything. Anything at all."
He laughs and she can feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. "I love you too, Bryn."
"Yeah, we so need to stop this conversation because I'm gonna start getting emotional." They laugh together and she smiles at him. "How was yesterday after the foam party? I saw you leave with some Julianne Hough-lookalike."
"Oh, Linda," He smiles in remembrance. "She was a damn good lay."
"I could've gone my whole life without knowing that." Bryn remarks but with a smile that could easily outwit his. "She must've been your best for you to tell me. No one ever shares their sex life with me for very good reasons."
"If I remember correctly, I always told you the deets about Matt after he banged Tracy."
"The 'deets' I've never wanted to know."
Steven grins. "Secretly, you did."
Bryn laughs as if to end their conversation. "What's with the sex talk today? This is getting weird."
"Since when have our conversations ever been remotely normal?" he jokes and carefully steers onto the sidewalk past tourists intrigued by everything around them. "Anyway, how's it been with Kenny? I never hear you talking about him or really seeing you guys together for that matter. It's like he just disappears off the face of the world over the weekends."
"He really does." she agrees sullenly. "I never thought I'd meet a guy that cock-blocks himself from me. That shouldn't even be legal."
"Let's buy him a chastity belt off Amazon." He backs off at Bryn's crude glare and laughs until her anger diminishes. "I know, I know! Low blow. It's true, though. He needs to get some real soon."
She hates to laugh but can't help to. "If he ever comes for some."
"Rhyming now, Blackwell? Never thought I'd hear of the day when you switch from rock to rap."
They laugh together again and she punches his arm from behind her. "Can we make a cupcake stop or something? All of this talk is getting me hungry."
Steven snorts and makes a detour halfway from Matt's house. "Hungry for something you can't have?"
"What?"
"Oh, nothing."
X
"You're only eleven minutes late this time. Good." Elle slings her arms around Javier's neck and leans into him for a kiss that doesn't bring fireworks but lust for more. Really something that didn't exactly mean anything to them. "How are you? It's been so long since we've interacted so civilly."
Javier nods in agreement and tentatively meets her kiss. "Better than before," he replies earnestly and pulls her into him. One hand on her waist, the other locked in her lush curls. "Claire's initiation event was a failure with the exception of my friends' performance." It feels weird to say friends. "Our local gossip blogger basically revealed that she'd just had a pregnancy scare. She ran out before anyone could find her and has been on lockdown in her place since."
"Mm, what luck. Poor Clarissa." Elle's statement isn't close to gentle. "On the day of her bash? She certainly got her just desserts." She answers his questionable glare before words can chance her. "And, no, I didn't have part in that. I'd be basking in margarita glory if I did. I praise whoever did though."
Javier raises an eyebrow but doesn't interrogate her further. "She really needs to learn how to keep her personal matters hidden in this city."
"I doubt that's even possible." she assures him with her own risen brow. "So I've heard, at least."
"True." There isn't exactly use of fighting with reality. "You apparently know enough of my day. I hope yours wasn't as terrible as mine."
Elle smiles severely and kneads her hands in his hair. "Usual, darling," She talks like a professional probably does. He doesn't like how she considers him a child and would rather stay home with a book than go to a normal party. She must still be against Bryn and Kenny. He wouldn't bring anything up what could be used against him.
Spoken like a true professional.
"My only highlight of yesterday was going with Kenny for a Pinkberry break. Or rather I went and he locked himself in his chambers until I brought something home. He's still considerably angry with me over that scene in Manhattan's favorite dingy club." she proclaims and looks away from him to notice Kenny's empty room. He went off for lunch alone again. "He's too dramatic for his own good."
"An old breakup does that to you." Neither of them elaborate further. "Shouldn't he be with his girlfriend?"
Elle shrugs, something not like herself. "Not my problem." She goes for another kiss and finally they find their loveless passion. Tongues battling like warriors, mouths seemingly unbreakable as he undoes the tiny buttons of her appropriately short dress. She forces off his blazer and tie, hearing them fall onto the hardwood as she leads them into her bedroom. They remain kissing and she moans against him. Collapsing onto her bed, he stops halfway to find a glimpse of a familiar name on her dresser and shutdowns to stare.
"Elle, what's that?"
"Hmm?" She doesn't even look up.
He squints at the folder and discovers the name Brynna. A pile of paperwork peeping from inside as he looks over her to see it. Not seeing what anything was saying but only finding it labeled as Blackwell. "Really? What is that?"
She finally realizes what he's noticed and grabs his face to force their gaze. "Ignore it, darling. It's nothing important. Absolutely nothing." Just like her.
But it's only in her thoughts and despite him not hearing, she smirks through their next kiss.
X
"Never thought I'd see you hungover, Blackwell," Chad gives Harper an acute onceover as they sit on the benches with their Vitamin Waters and lacrosse sticks. Harper's eyes are considerably bloodshot and his posture is tired. Not to mention the knee injury he still hadn't gotten examined. "What's up? Rough night with your girl? Forget a date? She break up with you?"
Harper sighs exhaustedly. "Not everything always revolves around a girl in my life."
Chad snorts rudely. It reminds Harper of why he doesn't really have friends. "That's bogus," He cocks a remindful eyebrow. "according to those gossip sites. They be saying that you guys have the best sex since Pamela and Tommy Lee."
It's better not to answer. No one would even think to consider Chad's demeanor.
He sips his Vitamin Water and waits to be called. The coach was late and the other guys were practicing with the opposite team. A teacher came onto the field to say the coach wouldn't be coming for another thirty minutes because of family issues. His team was already making bets to see who'd divorce each other first. Many of them already put money on his crazy wife.
"I just need a break," Harper says to himself in a sleepy mumble. He's sure Chad is smiling but he couldn't care. "I haven't relaxed in so long."
Chad is quiet and Harper meets his gaze nervously to find him fumbling with his jacket. The purple knee throbs a warning and he looks around for someone. Half-expecting the coach to appear from behind him and usher them onto the field.
No one's there. No one's staring at him.
Hangovers aren't fun.
Chad plants a tiny tablet in his gloved palm before he knows it. Harper squints at it and touches the surface thoughtfully. It looked so harmless and normal. He remembers who Chad was in that next second and locks the pill in his fist.
Eyebrows risen, mouth curled in a scowl. "What is this?"
"It should help you relax." is all Chad says with a defensive smile. "Don't worry, bro! I'm not trying to poison you. I take it all the time when I'm feeling off and it should help work on that fucked leg of yours."
"It's not –"
Chad chuckles before he can hear his defense. "That's what all the crazies say. Just take it before you get an earful from Coach Harmon."
Harper swallows it without thinking. Gulps water and feels a strange coolness sink down his throat. Expecting something else, he blinks and gives Chad a look. "Nothing happened."
"Well, duh!" Chad claps Harper's shoulders dumbly. "Not even sleeping pills work right away. Give it, like, thirty-five minutes and you'll be back to normal. Or at least what you call normal."
Chad ups and leaves without waiting for a response and Harper suddenly comes to realize something after the pill-consumption. It was only one.
What's the worst one can do?
X
"You shouldn't let Bryn cut your hair. She barely knows how to do her own."
Bryn tosses a cupcake wrapper in Matt's direction as he sits on his couch with a Sprinkles box and a blanket over his shoulders. Steven is beside him and flicking between Mob Wives and a rerun of That '70s Show. Floria sat before Bryn as she prodded her curls with kitchen scissors.
Floria sympathetically smiles at Bryn. "Please don't cut that much off. The other woman practically shaved my head."
"Gonna give you the Britney Spears, huh?" Steven switches back to VH1 and a particularly-silent Matt manages a smile. "No comment, Matthew? It's weird to not have you slam my jokes."
Matt grins wryly, his eyebrows knitted in fake sadness. "Lost my voice," His words are hoarse and broken. "All da screaming from yesterday's performance wore me out and the … karaoke."
"That was hysterical. You can't sing Michael Jackson songs for your life." Floria laughs as Bryn cuts an inch of curls. She holds a fistful of Floria's curls in her grip and begins to trim daintily. Little tufts trembling onto the carpet. "You really murdered 'Dirty Diana' out there."
Steven starts to laugh as Matt grins but looks away. "I so wish I was there now."
"Where were you?" Floria asks in surprise.
"He was smashing Linda." Matt croaks out weak laughs and Floria goes to join him as Steven fake-glares at Bryn. "He had one hell of a night, apparently."
"Linda? Who the hell is she?" Matt demands in his littlest tone. Floria laughs with her head down as not to hurt his feelings. As if he'd get angry anyway.
"Brooklyn sex machine. Blonde hair, tan skin, stars tattooed on her legs."
An imaginary lightbulb flashes in Floria's head. "Isn't she homeless?"
With the exception of Steven, they all laugh screamingly. Steven yells nonsense against their laughter and collapses against Matt in pretend-agony.
"You definitely picked a good one, Steven."
"I hope you stole her free coffee."
Steven rolls his eyes as usual. "Haters."
Matt gives him a look that doesn't perceive as well because of his bloodshot eyes and raspy voice. "Because I so can't afford my own coffee."
"I would've asked if I knew you really needed it," Steven smirks at Matt's eye-roll and frown. "Next time, I'll work on getting the grinds."
Floria giggles as Bryn chops another lock beside her chin. "I doubt there'll be a next time."
"Exactly," Bryn agrees with a smirk that fits her usual self. "Really, though, tell me. How exactly did your hair just get wrecked? You're never drunk so don't use that excuse. That only accounts for the guys because it's pretty much their doctor's notes."
"Neither of us drink that much." Matt speaks for him and Steven. "And Steven's not exactly allowed to because of that huge drama in the hospital."
Floria shrugs and what remains of her curls bounce around. "So you weren't drunk yesterday?"
"Drunk off life," Steven fills in.
Bryn rolls her gaze over Steven and the curls scattered across the floor. "I'm sure you were." she says to Matt, who gives her one his infamous eye-rolls. "Flor, I made your hair into a masterpiece. You look so Madonna."
Steven flips back to That '70s Show without looking at them. "That doesn't exactly sound promising."
Matt snorts as Bryn points the finger in his direction before rummaging through her pockets. She pulls out a handheld mirror and hands it to Floria, who gulps and prays for empathy. Already imaging what Bryn's done and how she'd need to wear a wig for the remainder of their senior year –
"Wow." she breathes in complete shock when observing the sleek cut. The length of her ringlets were about a quarter of an inch above her collarbone, her bangs thankfully not ruined were only slung over her eyes. The guys left her and pursued their own conversation as Bryn gives her a proud smirk. "This is really good."
Bryn gives her shoulder a slight shove. "Stop that," Her tone is teasing and friendly as it always is when they're all together. "I already have a payment in mind for that haircut."
Her determination was too desperate. "Anything."
It's hard to ignore the challenge in Bryn's eyes. "I won't stop until I have an answer but tell me why your hair was butchered."
"Later?"
"Later."
X
"Don't you think Victoria Beckham looks absolutely perfect in Vogue, Claire?"
Claire barely gives the article Baby was pointing out to her a second glance. She was too busy in her thoughts as it is. Moving to Italy and leaving her clique to another was a horror that not even Tim Burton could conceive.
It still burned her chest to think her parents were really divorcing. She hadn't told anyone and couldn't even think to share her own problems with someone else. The backlash from her peers would be endless and she'd much rather just keep her family affairs under the rug before having to explain herself to her people.
"Is something wrong, Claire?" Baby's eyes widen innocently and she twirls dark strands across her fingers. A nervous habit she'd have to drop if she expected to become queen after Claire graduated. "I hope you don't regret choosing me as your understudy. You've just been awfully silent since everything."
Her definition of everything was after Claire's huge bash from before. Their own gossip blogger brought her pregnancy scare to light. She'd forgotten all about the challenge she assigned the trainees and ran to the restroom to cry. Baby found her minutes later with mascara splashed on her cheeks and tissues wadded in her fists. She couldn't care about anymore gossip or newsfeeds or even Dean as she sobbed stupidly. Baby stayed through it all and took her for virgin drinks after she redid her makeup.
That was when Claire chose her. Neither of them screamed with glee but only clinked their glasses ceremoniously. It hadn't turned out to be a festive night in the end but was promising.
It was the best night she had in so long.
"Not at all," her heart answers in substitute of her brain. "I've just had a lot on my mind."
Baby's eyebrows knit together in concern. "It's because of your final year in Constance, right?"
"That's part of it." she assures and busies herself with the dull design of her skirt. "There's so much that runs wild through my life. Being queen isn't exactly the easiest of sports."
Baby's eyes gleam with the hope only a child could have. "You're just so perfect that no one would even realize a flaw. You'd be able to put a real queen to shame."
Claire smiles finely and feels loosened at the compliment. Usually pep talk isn't her thing but if it applies to her, it was a simple kind of nice. From everything she's received. The Harper breakup so many years ago, Tinsley taking him next and ignoring her every second, Bryn becoming colder, and she left to talk to the Brooklynites. It's all become surreal.
"Thanks, Baby." She figured something in those seconds. "You're quite the friend."
Friends. It was a real word.
X
"Ruby, we need to talk about this later. My team still isn't entirely prepped for the game and we're already going out today against a new team." Hunter gazes around the field quizzically as Chad shoots the ball towards a sluggish Harper. "I know, I know. Goodbye, Ruby. I'll see you at home."
He clicks off his Bluetooth before he's left to hear anymore and holds his head. Snatching the Gatorade from beside his jacket and swigging it. Life was complicated, too complicated.
Only twenty-seven and his wife was already threatening to divorce him. Bringing fake allegations of infidelity to the surface of their crumbled relationship and attempting to steal what he had. Despite her own businesses, she tells him she'd fight for spousal support if the time did come.
He hopes it doesn't. His funds wouldn't be able to survive the blow.
Not that he doesn't – or didn't – care for his wife. She's just become so paranoid and brutal that he's unable to act like a good husband. The husband he's always tried to be for his short years of marriage.
Impossible. People would be so ashamed. If Ruby got her way, the headlines would read ST. JUDE'S COACH JILTS WIFE FOR SCHOOLGIRL.
Only him vs. Treacherous Wife #1
There wouldn't be any way to turn this around. He couldn't fight her if he tried. She had all of his financial and emotional windfalls blocked. She'd definitely learn how to break his windfall. Indefinitely was more of the word.
"Coach Harmon?" one of his boys scrambles over to him. Eyes wide behind protective mask and lacrosse pole clutched like a torch. "Harper isn't exactly actin' normal."
"How so?" the mask-clad only points and he directs him off for a water-break.
He doesn't want to look but he does. His boys surround Harper as he's laid in the grass, sloped against the ground in weepy hysterics. The opposite team and the coach are giving him uncertain looks, already off the field and watching him from a good distance.
The people in the bleachers are spreading rumors. His humiliation is rising.
Hunter blows his whistle and gestures a time-out. Enters the field and stands over Harper, who doesn't even appear to care that he's about to get benched for the season. Harper finally meets his outraged gaze and collapses into harder chuckles.
"Get up, Harper," he sneers and indicates him to stand. Harper doesn't and drops his lacrosse stick in his bout of hysteria. Against better odds, he snags Harper into a standing position and drags him towards the benches. Swinging him into a seat as someone restarts the game. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you realize how stupid you look right now? Well? Answer me!"
"S-Sorry, Coach," Harper mumbles in an obviously unapologetic voice, undoes his lacrosse mask and tosses it onto the grass. His face is sweaty and his eyes are too wide for himself. "It's just I so can't take today serious! Too much has happened! And I'm hungover, too! Woo! What a bonus!"
Hunter gives him a hard stare. "I figured."
"I think I am so much calmer. Much calmer like by a quadruple amount of something," Harper wipes sweat off his face with his gloves. "You don't look it, though. Somethin' happened? Did you and your wife finally divorce or what?"
This definitely wasn't the Harper he knew. He was drunk on something illegal. "What are you on, son?"
Harper shrugs like it's supposedly normal. "A teeny tab. Something orange … or was it blue? I dunno. It was just so good and I am so loosened up now!"
Ah, ecstasy. The dopey smile and dilated pupils said it all.
"Go home, Harper." He's delivering a surprisingly normal punishment for his drugged co-captain. "You're high as a kite. Chad will take today's game."
"But I'm captain!" Harper squelches childishly and tries to stand but collapses back on the bench. "I'm captain, Coach Harmon!"
"Leave right now or be benched for the remainder of the season," he commands with a glare that silences Harper for a few moments. "Do you hear me? Do you understand? Either way, you will not be here while I am. Leave right now or face the penalty, son."
Harper looks down at his hands. "I dunno what happened."
"Me neither," the coach admits. "me neither, kid."
X
"Why are you here?"
Elle's in the shower and Javier is redoing his tie in the kitchen when he finds Kenny standing in the doorway with one bag of groceries and a folder. Eyes murderously dark as he never looks away from Javier after dropping the groceries at his feet.
"Why are you here?" Kenny demands again and doesn't even add the usual Mind telling me that he always hears him use with strangers. "In my kitchen getting dressed while my sister is occupied. You're mad but I suppose that's old news to you especially since you had my girlfriend investigated."
"What are you –" Javier doesn't continue when Kenny flips the folder to view. Labeled Brynna Blackwell with a multitude of documents kicked out. "Are you kidding? I didn't do that. I saw that before I … did anything with Elle."
Kenny doesn't even look remotely close to forgiving. "Don't you dare blame my sister because of your own burdens. I never thought to think that you'd use your fortunes to spite Bryn."
"Seriously? What motive would I need to track your girlfriend? I already know everything I need to know about her. There is no need for meet to stalk her when I'm dating someone already."
"I smell a fine case of bullshit."
"Fine, ignore the truth. Just know I was trying to explain something rational to you, Kenneth."
Kenny rolls his eyes rudely and it doesn't faze Javier that he doesn't take him seriously. He was only a child compared to him. Just a fathomless child. "Next time, don't lie through your teeth when approaching me with a reason. Or my girlfriend. We have better matters to worry about."
"Because fake pregnancies and guitar 'lessons' are so important to you."
"More than you'd realize." The shower twists off and Kenny's expression morphs from hate to mild anger. It was weird how easily he was able to do that. Like it was all planned out. It probably was.
Kenny steps in and thrusts the folder into his chest. His reflex is to grab it and he gets a cold grip over it, doesn't even attempt to ignore the glare Kenny was delivering. The stony iciness that could kill with the blink of an eye.
"Burn this." It's a command. "Or I burn you."
He slams out the door and leaves Javier standing there. It's been awhile since someone has thrown him into shock and actually made him fear for his life.
Too long. Just too long.
He needed to talk to Bryn.
J getting his ass handed to him by K. Don't be scared, J. He looks harmless.
X
I hope you all like today's chapter. Thanks so much for the consideration and the alert/favorites. This wouldn't be possible without any of you.