• dynasty • | gnr | kiss | bon jovi |

•12•

"Who are you?" Marty spits as I hop off of the stage, fingers still sore from working the guitar. So maybe... I showed off a little bit.

She's a little taller than me in her heels, so she glares down at me as if I'm nothing more than a nuissance. I shrug nonchalantly, plucking a stray hair off of my shirt.

"Why do you care?"

Sharon scoffs, throwing her hair over her shoulder. "Whatever, we don't have time for this. Gene, you know the show starts like... right now."

"Relax, girl," Gene says, hopping off the stage. "We're goin'."

He bumps my shoulder with his affectionately as he goes, nodding to me... almost respectfully. "Nice rehearsal."

Peter does the same, and it gives me such a weird feeling. A weirdly pleasant feeling. The air seems to have changed between me and them, whereas before it was like Antarctica, now it's almost like they... like me.

The girls swarm around Stan as they walk over to the doors.

He looks back at me expectantly. "Hey, you comin'? Leave that here." He nods to my guitar.

"I guess so." I bite my tongue to keep from grinning. If there's one thing I've learned about being around these people, it's that you never show too much emotion about anything.

The chilly wind blows as we walk down the brightly lit street. Car horns blare, music emanating from somewhere close blares in the background. The girls light their cigarettes to look cool, letting the smoke leak only from the corners of their cherry-colored lips.

"You want a ciggy, Paul?" Marty bats her eyelashes and holds out her pack.

Stan's pace slows so that he and I fall into step. "Nah, you smoke Camels. They taste like ass, get me some Marlboros and maybe I will."

I snicker, which is obviously a mistake.

"What do you smoke, hon? Grass from the sidewalk?"

Sharon and Steph laugh like this is the funniest thing they've ever heard.

"I don't smoke," I assert, crossing my arms.

"Oh, what an 'upstanding lady,'" Marty rolls her eyes with irritation. She looks over to her girls for backup, but Sharon's already wrapped herself around Gene's waist and Steph is looking for Peter's attention.

"Shut up, Marty. Didn't I fuckin' tell you I didn't want a cigarette? Get the hell over it."

She turns and stares at him, hard. "You defendin' the Manhattan Princess now? What the hell is wrong with you?"

I have a feeling this isn't really about me. We're standing outside a tallish building surrounded by people, and a glowing sign out front advertising it as the 'Gorilla Club'. Muted strobe lights glare from the poorly covered windows. A line of promiscuous women and their partners stand outside, masked by a cloud of cigarette haze.

I start toward it but Gene stops me. "You kiddin', girl? We ain't the general public, so we don't wait in line."

"Okay..." I swallow, glancing back over my shoulder at Marty and Stan.

"What the fuck's wrong with you? You on your period or somethin'?"

"No!" she begins to whine like a scorned puppy. "We haven't... you know... had sex in weeks! I'm wound up like a tangled garden hose!"

Stan laughs bitterly. "Maybe I ain't been in the mood, 'cause you've been bitching about every move I make!"

"All your 'moves' are the same! You spend every waking moment with that girl! Having her over for some... 'family dinner'? Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think it wouldn't hurt me that you chose her over me?"