Pretty lies

fourty seven- it's her

Isadora Rose:

I think Tristan Okuro was sent from literal heaven.

It is his twenty seventh birthday in a week, but celebrations are already on, of course. We are currently sat on the hood of his Cadillac, each of us chugging our milkshakes.

"What kind of party do you want?"

"I was thinking an Austin Power sort of situation would be cool." Oh fuck no.

"There is no way that is happening." I tell Tristan bluntly. Imagine me in the fembot outfit- it'd be hot as shit, but no.

"It's my birthday."

"No yet."

"What's your idea then, smart ass?" He pushes laughingly.

"I'll list some ideas and then you list some. We both get three vetos."

"Ok, cool. I'll go first. Halloween style shit." He suggests.

"Veto. How about dressing up as each other?"

"Veto, none of you bitches can dress and I mean that with full offense. I like the idea of being our favourite movie characters."

"Veto, one hundred percent. You're just trying to bring Austin Powers back into the picture. What about a western thing?"

"Oh." Oh. Was that a good oh or a bad oh?.

"How am I meant to take that?"

"I like that. I like that a lot." Really? There has to be some weird ass reasoning behind him agreeing with me for once.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm doing quite well actually. I bought a pair of cow boy boots last  week from a crack head and now they may just be a sign."  There it is. There's the weird ass reason.

"Western it is."

Alessandro Marino:

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I ask the clearly delusional man sat a mere few feet away from me.

"No I am not. I think this is a great idea." Tristan defends. He just told me the plan behind his little party. It's utter bullshit.

"Who do you think I am? Clint Eastwood?" I am not wearing a hat.

"You'd look great in a hat."

"I'm going to smother you in your sleep."

"At least let me have my party first." Fuck the party. I'm not going anywhere near that shithole.

"I love you man, but I'm not going to that."

"Why the hell not? It's my birthday."

"Not yet."

"It'll be fun."

"No it won't."

"There'll be alcohol."

"I have alcohol at home."

"Isa's going."

"No-" That cheating motherfucker.

Tristan leans back in his chair, smirking in his 'triumph'. I can practically hear the torment coming along in his head.

"I don't find you funny."

"She does." That's all he says before scurrying out of the room, a grin spread across his face.

I rest my head in my hands, head facing the paper work plastered across my desk. Fuck this, I think before getting up from my desk to leave.