Y/N works as a bartender, one night stands are expected. Elizabeth Olsen, a professor, hasn't had a drunk make out session in a decade. Y/N changes that. Their jobs collide and a decision has to be made.
Completed as of 20/12/2021
Elizabeth Olsen x...
Since that night of everyone telling me how much of a shit head I am, every night after that I have spent it sulking in my apartment. AJ came round a few times in an attempt to make me feel better but he tried to convince me to go back to Florence.
"Just apologise, say it'll never happen again, that always works" He kept saying. This was the main reason as to why he hasn't been round since those words left his mouth. I've had a lot of time to think and it's not my fault, none of it. So, AJ, politely fuck off.
When Aubrey told me to 'grow the fuck up' I did just that. I sold my beloved car to some guy who paid me in full cash- dodgy I know but I will not be turning down that offer. Even if it means my most prized possession will probably end up ruining some rich white people's relationship. That same night, I bought the club. You could say I'm impulsive... I would agree.
It's been a few weeks since... that night. I've spent nearly all day and night working on the club, stripping the worse areas in preparation for fixing them. Boy oh boy, did this place need some work. It was fun, dancing to music whilst pulling plaster board off the wall- a good stress relief. I haven't spoken to the two woman who verbally berated me that night and I wasn't mad about it. Fuck them. I don't need them.
Today ended with me in handcuffs and screaming Florence's name. Unfortunately, not in the way you're thinking but instead with me in the back of a cop car. I did nothing wrong, we got into an argument and I threw my paint brush at her. She called the cops and filmed as I got arrested. What a bitch.
I can only assume the video ended up being plastered all over her social media as I was sat in the holding area, still behind bars, getting processed for spending the next few nights in jail as they waited for Florence to drop the charges. The two rather large white police officers let me know it was likely she would drop the charges; all I did was throw a paint brush and call her a few not so nice words.
The person beside me was entertaining to talk to and kept me company for the 12 hours I had been sat in the dingy jail. He was very high and we played rock paper scissors for God knows how long. In the middle of me on a losing streak, I had picked rock 6 times in a row without even realising, my name is called.
I stood up, still in my black dickies work pants with paint splatters all over them and an old shirt with small holes in. If I knew I would be having my mugshot I would've dressed a little nicer.
They handed me my phone and keys, to which only had the La Lace club keys on as I had sold my car. I gave them a sarcastic thanking before walking out, to which I was greeted by a view I didn't want nor expected to have seen.
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"Oh, this is rich"
"Really? That's the kind of thanking I get for getting you out of JAIL."
Ignore. Carry on walking. Ignore her. Ignore her. Ignore her.
