Sleepless In September

3 - Amber Alert

It's 8PM and where the fuck is Danielle?! She told Hanni and Yunjin she'd be here by now. The show starts in an hour and the drive there shouldn't take much longer than 30 minutes, but you should never risk leaving late to go anywhere in this city unless you like random gridlock and a bonus hour on your trip because people don't know how to drive or take the subway.

Hanni can't stop admiring Yunjin's work in the mirror. She's never felt like this much of a bad bitch before. Her white cropped tank top is skin tight and says GIRLS <3 MY SWAG. A cheetah print pushup bra peeks past the low neck of her top but you can see it through the thin fabric regardless. The denim shorts are low rise and the belt is studded. The side straps of her thong sit so deliciously on her hips and her boots are fluffy, reaching halfway to her knees. Still, she doesn't want to be cold, so she's got on an oversized black hoodie, unzipped. She really loves the way her hair looks too. Yunjin cut Hanni's bangs and straightened her hair, so she's serving Jabami Yumeko levels of cunt.

HONK HONK! Danielle's finally outside in her dad's SUV and she's only three minutes late so there's no need for anyone to worry. Hanni and Yunjin scramble their way out the apartment door, down the stairs and into Danielle's backseat and Danielle thinks the scent of cheap perfume might suffocate her to death.

Danielle puts her arm behind the passenger seat like she's going to reverse but she just wants to see what her friends are wearing. "Wow, ladies, you look amazing!! Hanni bestie you're literally so smexy in that outfit! Never seen you look like that before! And Yunjin?? Since when did you have red hair? You look hawt!"

Hanni gets flustered and slaps Danielle's arm playfully. "Thanks girl, OMG! You're too kind." and she giggles.

While Hanni, Yunjin and Danielle exchange all their new life updates since they last hung out three weeks ago, The Beach Boys plays on a low volume from the car radio and the drive is nice. The traffic in Vinewood isn't that bad tonight. Hanni keeps feeling her pockets for her ticket, fake ID and phone.

Yunjin taps Danielle's shoulder. "Yo Dani, we might call you to pick us up at Casey's Diner after the show. 'Cause like, I don't know what me and Hanni's plans for the night are yet. But we'll see. I'll call you regardless though."

"Okay, no problem!" Danielle beams. "I don't know where Casey's Diner is, so you'll have to show me."

"It's on the same street as the venue, like a few buildings before and you can't miss it, it's like right under the Cluckin' Bell billboard with the huge dick-shaped chicken nuggets." says Hanni.

Danielle isn't from around these parts, and she's got no business hanging out here either. She lives down in Vespucci, a fun beach town and tourist trap. Not much to do there other than shopping, surfing, purchasing fancy dispensary weed that induces psychosis and getting a nice tan. But it's a good time once the sun's out.

The SUV pulls into an alleyway that dips to a lot under the Olympic Freeway flyover, sitting at a lower elevation than the surrounding intersection. The warehouse is hard to miss—A grey brick box covered in punchy graffiti. There's a couple cars in the small parking lot and people are buzzing around them, just smoking and chatting. A few others are in line to get their tickets ripped at the door. Hanni and Yunjin wait in the queue for not even a minute. The attendant collecting tickets and cash at the door is wearing one of the toughest all-black fits they've ever seen. Yunjin couldn't help but ask about him. Apparently, this guy's name is Destroy Lonely, but you can call him Lone and he's friends with the band. He's just here to help them out.

In the warehouse, the lighting is dark, pink and moody. When Hanni and Yunjin find their way to the front row, they're surprised that there's no actual stage to separate the audience from the band, just some tape on the ground. Hanni's no regular at these underground shows, but she hopes there's some sort of unspoken etiquette preventing the crowd from fucking with the artists.