"Trixie? You alright?" What was once a faint voice grew to a booming monstrosity within a few seconds. Trixie groaned.
"I'm hungover, what do you think?" She muttered and finally opened her eyes, "What's going on?"
"What do you remember from last night?" Joseph handed her a pint of water, she sat up in hopes that would help her keep it in her hands. She didn't want to break one of glasses. Again.
"I... drank and I drank some more and I... drank more after that, I assume," She shrugged, "It usually gets a bit hazy after the sixth drink,"
"Look at yourself, Trix," Joseph held up a small mirror. He probably used it for when he needed to shave in a hurry. She didn't understand at first and gave him a funny look before she scooted closer to him in the booth and closer to her reflection.
"I look the same," She saw her grey eyed lined with the stain of red and purple. Her lipstick had faded but that was to be expected after a night of drinking.
"Not your face," Joseph said sadly, aiming the mirror downwards at her chest. It felt inappropriate but it was better for her to find out this way rather than people blatantly pointing it out, she had been through enough.
"...What the actual fuck?" Trixie drew out her words slowly, and then began to paw at her pale skin which had been crudely written on in a black permanent marker. The letters PAY were boldly on display on her chest, clear as day, "Who the fuck did this?" Now, the girl was angry, "I'll fucking gut them,"
"Ebony said it was Peter. He came by the bar in a foul mood last night and next thing you show up with this," Joseph said, "But we can't be entirely sure. Nobody actually saw,"
"A foul mood?" She clenched her jaw, "And what? He took it out on the local prostitute instead, is that it?"
"I'm sorry, Trixie," It was a useless sentence but he felt he should say it anyway, "Here," He rummaged through his pockets for his wallet and took out a few coins, "Go get yourself a coffee and go home. Get some rest, yeah? I don't want to see you here tonight, okay?" She took the money but didn't get up immediately.
"This place is rotten," She sighed, "I just need to get out of this town,"
"We've got to play the cards we've been dealt, Trix," He said, not much hope to be heard in his voice either.
She got up and left, picking up her bowler hat on the way. It was ten o'clock on a Friday morning. Nobody was in J's. Thank God. She'd be laughed out of there in the state she was in. Wouldn't be the first time. Hotspot was only down the street from the pub. She could save the coins. Use it for something practical like food, or maybe she could add it to her vodka fund. Joseph did specify that she could get a coffee, so she begrudgingly pushed open the glass door of the café and waited by the counter for Elliott to notice her.
"Jesus, what happened to you?" He exclaimed once he did.
"You mean the insult on my chest or my life in general?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Or both?" He shrugged, "Americano?"
"Please," She said, "It's a long story,"
"It'll just be a moment," He turned to all the contraptions behind him.
"Aren't there like... supposed to be, y'know, customers here?" Trixie looked around the coffeeshop. It was dead empty.
"Yeah, the novelty has worn off, I guess," Elliott shrugged again.
"That was quick," The dark haired girl chuckled, "The place has only been open two months,"
"Believe me, I know," He briefly turned to her to shake his head, "It gets so boring here,"
"How long are your shifts?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you telling me that you're the only barista Hotspot has?" Trixie couldn't hold back a laugh.
"That's exactly what I'm telling you," He rolled his eyes, "At least I have a job,"
"I do have a job, I'm self-employed," She smirked.
"Trixie, being asked to leave children's parties is not a job," He gave her s condescending smile.
"Elliott, being a magician's assistant is a grueling profession," She humored him. Might as well, she wouldn't be talking to anyone else for a day or two.
"Where's your magician then?" He tilted his chin, as if to say Haha I've got the moral high ground.
"...Yeah, so maybe he died, but that's all in the past, Elliott, don't be such a pessimist and give me my coffee, I know it's been ready for ages,"
He laughed and placed the cup on the counter.
"€2.50," He told her.
"I've only got €1.10," She looked at the change Joseph had given her.
"Oh, it'll do," Elliott rolled his eyes but smiled, taking it from her.
"See you later," She plodded out of the café.
"Yeah, bye," He waved after her but she had already left.
She headed towards the town square. It was empty enough. Everyone was in school or at work. She sipped at her coffee and headed on into the hotel. She didn't speak to anyone. She went straight to the old tattered room that was her home. None of the staff went in. As far as they were concerned nobody stayed in that room. She dropped her hat on the floor, kicked off her heels and downed what remained of her coffee. She sprawled herself across the flimsy double bed and reached for the bottle on the bedside table, pouring a few tablets into her mouth so that she would sleep.
•~~×~~•
"What're you doing later on?" Francis asked as he and Olivia ate their lunch on the concrete steps outside the school.
"
Cleo's picking me up after school and I'm gonna be at her apartment for the rest of the night. Why?" Olivia said before taking a mouthful of salad.
"Oh, it's nothing. Nevermind," Francis shrugged it off.
"Are you going over to Raphina's tonight?" She chirped.
"I wasn't planning on it but who knows?" His attempt at a pleasant smile was ridiculous.
"Is everything okay?" She put the container in her hands down on the steps.
"Yeah," He answered all too quickly, "How have you been feeling? Any better?"
"It's been a fortnight, I'm fine," Olivia gave a little laugh, wishing he hadn't made her the subject of conversation. She felt her face heating in embarrassment.
"How did you end up friends with Cleo?" Francis did it again, preferring to talk about her rather than himself.
"We just met the other night, last night actually," She laughed again, "We just got talking, y'know? Turns out we actually get along well,"
"You're not replacing me, are you?" His tone said he was joking but Francis was genuinely inquiring.
"Don't be silly, we'll always be best friends," She nudged him slightly with her elbow.
Francis let out a few chuckles, not looking at her. The bell rang. Lunch was over and they would have to part ways. Once Olivia had gone to art class, Francis decided that he was no longer in the mood for education and left. Just left. Walked right off the school grounds.
It was just after seven that evening. Francis had gone into the woods, not in the mood for parents either. He sat there, under a tree. His phone rang. Raphina, as per usual.
"Hi," He answered it, rising to his feet.
"Are you coming over?" She asked, hopeful.
"Look," He sighed, feeling he needed to change the way things were going, "We need to talk about us,"
"Okay,... okay," Raphina's words were hesitant, probably already emotional, "Can you come over and talk about it?"
"I...," Francis was about to say something. He had no idea what but it was something. Regardless, he never got to say it. Someone had joined him in the woods, "I'll be over as soon as I can," He hung up almost instantly as he stopped talking.
"Francis?" He was greeted by Francis and her trusty vodka bottle.
"Femme? What're you doing here?" He looked at her in confusion.
"It's Friday night, this is where I go," She said it as if it were the obvious answer, "What are you doing here?"
"Just passing time," He sat down again.
"Go home," Femme said sternly.
"What? No,"
"Kid, go home,"
"Why?"
"Because I said so,"
"You're only one year older than me, you can't expect me to do what you say," Francis looked at her with amused eyes.
"You can't stay here," Femme shook her head.
"Why? Cause it's your Friday night place?" They were both fed up of this conversation but neither were bothered enough to back down. There was a sound then. Leaves rustling, a twig snapping. Someone else was joining them.
"Hide," Femme pushed at Francis. She resorted to climbing a tree and then helped him up with her before the intruder could see them.
That's when Bradley came on scene. He fumbled around the forest floor, trying to watch each step carefully. Femme reached across to cover Francis' mouth. He was breathing too loudly. They watched Bradley as he got down on his knees and searched through all the muck and dead leaves and tree bark, quickly becoming more aggressive and urgent, and less casual, not that any of this could be considered casual.
"Shit, where are they!?" He hissed, "Where the fuck are they!?" He found his phone in his coat pocket and dialed, "Reyn, when you get this, call me. Something's happened to the fucking gloves. If someone finds out about them, we're both dead, understand me!?" He took a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, "Just call me when you get this," He scurried away and quickly, not wanting to be seen. It was too late for that though.
Femme let go of Francis then, once they were certain he was gone.
"We should go," Femme said. Francis nodded in absolute agreement.
"I need to go break up with my girlfriend before I over think what happened here,"
