| 020. [First sleepover at Jordan's new apartment, Part II.] |
[07 Aug 2007|02:02am] |
"... I slept with him," Slyvia said, and heads swivelled toward her. "What, is that bad?? He said it himself! He's got an able body, and I was drunk. Did you sleep with him?"
"Nuh! I dunno! Nuh. I mean, maybe I made out wit him a little, but ..."
" ... Are ya'll even listenin'?? I don' see why we can't play truth or dare. This game is just like that except it's always some truth question unless nobody wants to answer it. And then folks better 'watch out', cause you're in for it. You're gonna be doin' somethin' really excrutiatin' --"
"Aright den, Jordan." Bryce threw open the bathroom door, stumbled around the corner and slurred, unable to hold his liquor like a lady, "What's da freakiest thang ya done in bed... wit a one night stand ... and who was it?" The last few words spoken into the encroaching hole of the bottle from his own personal stash.
Jordan sighed from her address in Sylvia's lap, and pushed the thick hair from her drunk-flushed face. "I ain't had any one night night stands --"
"She's lying," Sylvia protested, and pointed animatedly down at Jordan's head to make who she was talking about more obvious.
"What?! Ukay, da first guy I was ever wit was a client. And I was wit him for SEVEN years. And we had some one night - oh! Ohhhhh well I got a lot wit girls. Like -- oh, dis one time, we went to dis place. And ju knuh, ju paid dem to make dis professional video of ju fucking. Like, ju fuck RIGHT there, and they film it. And they got costumes and like, settings, kinda like stages? Dat was freaky cause dere were suh many people watching us fuck dis girl. And it was daunly time I ever got him to fuck someone in front of me. Suh she's my one night stand." Jordan pawed for Sylvia, and gave her a blind smack somewhere in the arm.
"God, I can't believe I'm in this room with a buch of whores and perverts," Angel smiled her Queen of the Trailer Park smile She'd long-since finished Sylvia's cigarette. "Come here. I got the Tequilla right here, Sugarplum. And I'll ask the next question: You done drugs? You gotta have a drug story."
Everyone in the room rolled their eyes, and thought Angel was a fuck-up. Well, except for Bryce -- he blushed furiously.
The lush-bodied Latin girl pulled herself out of Sylvia's lap, pulled herself up, and bounded over to Angel. "I smoked weed, dat's it."
"... Really?"
"Really." Jordan kneeled in front of Angel, sunk her ass back on her heels, and plugged her mouth up with the bottle of liquor; liquid sloshed while she gulped down a good shot. "Drugs are bad, dey mess jour head up, ju got to be an idiot -- in dis business, to do dem. I mean it, pssht. Very few people can handle dat shit. Except Heather, she's got a nose like a shop vac."
"Fine then, best weed story," Angel frowned, disenchanted.
"Me and Bobbie smoked it wit a cop."
Bryce blushed even more furiously.
Angel was still a moment, and then her delicate features, which were drenched in smokey, whorish makeup, screwed up, with attitude. "... So??"
"Hey, ju asked da questions. Lo SIENTO, una pregunta MEJOR." The Latin girl leaned forward and spat out with equal, dramatic, and more playful attitude.
"Next time, my pretty. And your little dog, too," Angel promised, and pushed a hand through Jordan's hair.
Bobbie shook her head at Miss White Trash 2007, who couldn't do anything right. How did a girl get so dumb? Bobbie'd even been to Atlanta, Tennessee, Virginia Beach, and she didn't meet one goddamn person that talked like such a stereotypical hick.
"Damnit!" Angel spat to herself, like she'd just thought of a better question, and she had. She pointed to herself, and then pointed to Jordan, and pushed her fingertip against the tip of Jordan's nose so it pushed Jordan's face back.
Miss Esteves laughed. "What da hell are ju doing?"
Angel shrugged, pawed at the bottle, and looked over Jordan's shoulder to the erotica on the TV screen. "Who's got the remote control? Can we unmute this thing?"
Meanwhile, the Cajun was all too eager to hop into the new subject. The guy dodged a bullet and landed on a knife by slurring out six poorly pronounced words. "Ya know my brudda sells weed." Struggling over his words, he continued on. "... but ... b-but das a story fo' a nudda time, la petits. So as I was sayin'," Bryce droned on, "Anyone eva' seriously ... seriously get tripped out on weed laced wit' sum'm? Hol ... hold dat thought," he stumbled towards the nearest source of alcohol, "I'm almost outta poison."
"Wait, what's your name?" Bobbie leaned forward so that her elbows were on her jean-clad knees. She hadn't been this interested in a man in years.
"His name's Paul. .. ya .. not gon' go find'em and kick his ass are ya? I know he needs it but --" Just as Bryce wrapped his meaty digits about the bottle's neck, his eye brought to him a stunning image. A Cajun expression of disbelief was bellowed out before he screamed in English, "'Dose people on da TV! Dey .. . turn dat off! Dat ain't right! Dey's havin' sex!" Followed by more ranting and raving in the French knock-off language.
The lesbian-stripper listened and nodded slowly, obviously following it away. "Later, we'll talk," she promised Bryce. "Alright Miss Bright and Shiny Squeaky Clean, IgotmygenitalsremovedandofferedthemtoJesus-- did they fuck the guy that took you on that date -- the Hudson River at midnight, some ... diner all night. With the midnight. You know. Skinhead guy. With the eyes. Hmm?"
"Austeeeell," Sylvia drawled. She'd gotten up, unmuted the TV, and returned to pipe up with Jordan-trivia.
"Ukay, but I got one question for ju -- why does everyone want to knuh who I'm sleeping wit, huh??"
Bobbie sat for a moment, stared off into space almost dramatically and then looked back to her friend. "Well, I really can't put my had on it. Maybe because hopefully one day you'll bat for the other team. And I'll be stand there waiting." Her raspy voice held merriment, but her tone was almost deadly serious as she said the next thing, "Or because, we all secretly think that a good fucking would relieve some of that 40-year old undertone you got going on." She shrugged, "just an idea."
"Nuh. We went out a couple more times. Nutting happened. On our third date -- and I remember it was number three cause dat what was on da cake he baked me. Ukay, suh it was da first guy I dated after ... Luca, ju knuh?" The Eva Mendes look-a-like had paused, and gestured forward, like she couldn't remember his name. She did though, all to well, and it was a weak cover. Sylvia knew better, but stayed quiet. The porno-audio boomed in the background. "Dios dat is distracting!"
Bryce rubbed at his forehead, and tried to play it cool despite the fact that someone had just turned the porno up, full volume.
"Suh he hired three male strippers to touch me FOR him, and den I never talked to him again. Well for months. Den I was wit 'Lo in some pool hall in Red Hook, and he wound up dere, and he laid one on me, and before I could do or say anyting, he took off again. But I dunno. We kissed once. Dat's dat. Anyway ... for da best. Da last time I need is another person I can't count on."
"Oh, here she goes. "Angel sighed. "Jordan, it's been -- how long has it been, Slyvia?"
"A year and a half -- that looks good. Doesn't that look good?" She was studying the porno.
"A year and a half," Angel proclaimed. "And you got friends that give you vacations in Miami, you got friends who go down to Miami to STAY with you, to get you, to bring you back. You got friends that Took. You. In. for allll that time, and you got friends here now, tryin' to make your new place enjoyable for you, you Ungrateful Whore." The last part of course, she tacked on to lighten up the speech.
"Ugh, dios. I didn't mean it like dat."
There was a long silence that followed, a kind of incredulous air engulfed the room before Bobbie's voice broke it. "So..." She leaned forward, "you didn't fuck him either?"
"No!"
"How do ya know when ya in love, and do ya think you'll be smitten again?" Bryce blurted loudly; his voice boomed over the sounds of fucking.
Angel bopped Sylvia on the shoulder, just remembering that she'd said something about the sex on TV. "Oh yeah, that does look good. Can I ask another question?"
"No way, it's Heather's turn. No, it's MY turn. Didn't you already HAVE a question?!" The thirty-something leaned over to pinch at Bryce's calve.
"See Bryce, you wait your turn!" Jordan admonished him. The question had her turning her attentions to the porno, which she watched blankly.
"Heather's takin' a phone call. Bryce, you go. Jordan - why ... the love ... how do you know when you fall in love, will you ever fall in love, somethin' like that," Angel reminded her.
"Pssht, witchu," the Latin girl turned her head abruptly, and blew him a kiss over one of her thin, wind-caved shoulders. She was wearing a stringy tank top and daisy dukes, white and pink respectively. "I just knuh. I knuh cause ... I dun't knuh, HOW do you knuh? I want to make love to them wit my whole body, and dere isn't a part of me I don't want dem to have or touch. Anyting guhs. Dat's how I knuh, cause I sleep wit dem."
Bryce finished his drink after defeating the obstacle called choking.
The room fell silent again. Angel squirmed in her seat and cleared her throat loudly. "Ahem, well see, that's ... that's a grand way to tell ... I mean, don't ya'll think??"
"How'd I know? I'm drunk as hell. . .. I'm goin' through a divorce .. . and I did some pretty messed up shit recently with a piece of jailbait. And thinkin' 'bout Marley don't make me wanna puke m'guts out." The Cajun stood up and scratched his stomach with one hand while the other readjusted his eyepatch, "Guess da person who doesn't make you puke is da one for ya. I gotta go to the bathroom."
"JJ, honey. You gotta sleep with someone soon, baby. You got to. Make it a girl, once of us will -- hell, all of us will, and believe me it ain't charity."
"... Pssht, who said I didn't?"
"Seven! WHO, YOU SLUT?!" The tacky strings of beads that hung in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen stirred and rustled; Heather Rigano, with the cell phone pressed to her ear, smiled wickedly.
"Yeah!" Sylvia demanded.
The whole room was staring again. Even the walls were staring.
Bobbie was now on a hell-bent mission to bring her good friend, who was also a goody-two shoes down, she listened as Jordan told her story, about how she could tell she was in love. "Oh God, someone pour me a drink.. someone's being a buzzkill toooniiight." Upon getting one, she knocked it back, despite if it was cheap, and might as well been rubbing alcohol.
"Was it BRYCE," Sylvia hissed in a whisper. He said he was going to the bathroom sure, but who knew when the gentle giant was going to round the corner.
Jordan dropped her face into her hands, and rubbed at it like it was some furious attempt to sober up. ".... Oh Goddamn it," she said finally, twisted at the waist, and flung her legs over the couch, so that she was sitting normally. "Give me a fucking line."
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Hello out dere! I knuh I haven't left a MySpace message in a while but dat's because I been doing dis little ting called WORKING. Ju knuh why? Because when you achieve jour dreams, jou got to make another one! Ju got to make more! What else are ju gonna do wit jour life? Be a bum? Guh to orgy parties? 
