Six shitty people walk into a bar...

Chapter 1: Jayme

Okay, so I'm already regretting joining this agreement. Six gals and in one house just trouble waiting to start. But at least the rent is cheap. And that's really clutch right now, seeing as I just got a job working at a barely legal real estate company. Yeah, I know the irony of a real estate worker not being able to afford an apartment, but whatever.

My room is upstairs beside the bedroom of some really posh chick who looks like she falls asleep to Nitzche. She has coal black skin and was somehow able to climb the stairs with heels and a pencil skirt.

She cast me a sideways look as I hauled by suitcase up.

"Do you require assistance?" She spoke.

"No." my tone did not hide my annoyance. I mean, what kind of stuck-up princess even talks like that anymore. It's like she's trying to quote Shakespeare or some shit.

She introduces herself as Zoe Harden. Like I'm gonna remember that. All I'm gonna remember is the way she looked like she could bite my face off.

Her sister is across the hall. I saw Kyla (or was it Kia?) carrying a punching bag up the stairs over her shoulder one time. Maybe she's a wrestler. Maybe she's a gang leader, not sure which one is sexier.

I spent most of the day laying on my bed with chips and YouTube videos of crap. But a few hours later, someone knocked on my door.

"Whoever it is. Fuck off." But I answered the door anyway. She had light brown hair which was glossy and flowed down her shoulders. Her face was done up in makeup and a smile as fake as her nails. In other words, she was a perfect barbie.

"Hi, I'm Emily. My room's downstairs. I'm planning a night out for everyone, so we can get to each other, are you busy tonight?"

"A night out? So everyone can make small talk and pretend to like each other? Yeah, hard pass Regina George."

Her smile refused to falter, but her voice became less chipper. "We were... ah... going to head to a bar nearby. So..."

"Urgg, fine I'll come. Might as well drink myself into oblivion."

Some people may call me insensitive, but the truth hurts is what I say. After all, as my mother always told me, "Always say yes to alcohol if someone else is paying for it."