"Ready?" Ferrari's mischievous smile glints at me from the mirror.
"Do it," I state before I can change my mind. My anxiety builds with each stubborn snip of her scissors, until finally my detached ponytail is triumphantly dangled in front of my face. I reach to the back of my neck to feel for the familiar unruly curls, instead grasping air. Acura applauds while Ferrari looks on with approval.
"You already look so much better," Wendy comments with a pseudo smile, a casualty from the day's earlier events. She is right though, losing that much length took ages off my sunken appearance. Porsche continues shaping the cut for another ten minutes before Thomas pokes his head into the dressing room to remind us we're on shift.
I watch my reflection, barely able to recognize the not-quite-man staring back at me. My face is gaunter than I remember, my already-angular cheekbones and collarbones more pronounced due to speculative eating practices. My green eyes sit in carved hollows, staring back at me through heavy lids and bags. My newly short fiery hair barely grazes the top of my neck; the copper orange seeming to spark under the fluorescent bulbs.
"You look great," Wendy places her palm on my upper back as if to gently awaken me from my rapture.
"He hasn't texted me back yet," I know that worried look affecting her perfectly plucked brow.
"I know. This is what we do... It should blow over. I just can't believe he'd actually think..." She trails off, annoyance now affecting her pretty face.
"Who knows what he's thinking," I assure her. I'm vaguely insulted he believed even for a second I'd fuck his girlfriend, so I can't even imagine how irate Wendy is going to be when she gets her hands on him.
We enter the main room, she wearing all white and I wearing all black, the perfect duo. Her black hair acts as a train, following her elegant movements and attracting every male gaze in the room. Looks like another night of no customers for me, until I spot the familiar broad-shouldered brunette sitting at the bar, with Porsche emphatically talking at him. Right, never fixed that. I break off from Wendy (Serenity here) with the intention of joining my sometimes customer. Wendy clacks her tall clear heels onto the stage with the intention of starting her first shift.
"Oh hey Starr," the sable-haired girl says when she sees me. Cartman's back seems to stiffen once he realizes I'm near.
"Hey Porsche. Eric," I acknowledge his presence. He doesn't budge.
"I was just telling Eric about this really cool thing that happened the other day with my turtle. I was feeding him apples because he looks so cute when he opens his little mouth-
"Porsche, although I'm sure the next half hour of this story is just as interesting as the first," Cartman finally interjects, impatience oozing from his very being. "I am not interested in you."
"Oh. Okay, no biggie," she beams and wanders off, completely unfazed. Leaving me standing awkwardly behind Cartman. My eyes trace the drawn silhouette of his cheek and chin. Again in this setting, I'm reminded of all the mistakes I made on his body barely twenty-four hours prior.
"Well are you going to sit down or just stare at me?" Cartman states, acknowledging my hesitance. I take the seat to his right and Volks eyes me, expectant of a drink order.
"He'll take a glass of Merlot," my enemy answers for me, swirling his own glass. The red liquid sloshed as he raised it to his lips and took a small sip. I don't want to watch him but I can't seem to help it. Volks gently places the glass in front of me and I fumble the stem awkwardly, unsure if alcohol will help the situation.
YOU ARE READING
Elysian Fields (A Kyman Fanfiction)
Fiksi PenggemarKyle Broflovski is sixteen and going crazy. He's desperate to get out of South Park, his only home his entire life. He's confused, angry, and feels more alone than ever, so why not work at the dingy strip club at the edge of town? Wait -- is that Ca...
