Vodka With A Side Of Flowers/ Phan

Short-Skirts (rewritten)

Phil

Shit I'm so fucking dead, is the only thing that plays through my mind. I should've payed him, why the hell did I not pay him. Turning down the ally, and I realize my dumbass has hit a dead end. So, I make a run behind the dumpster, hoping I'm safe. Please tell me I'm safe. I literally feel like I'm going to implode. My breathing stops, as I hear familiar footsteps, but then another set. It's a set of heels.

  Wait.
What?

  I peek around the corner to see a girl, she has black fishnet tights, with huge platform heels. They make a sound as she walks, and holy crap she is tall. With a light pink skirt, that barely goes to her mid-thigh, and a simple blue button-up.

     "Hello Landon, who betrayed you this time?" She asks coldly, but her voice, low and husky. Holy shit "She" is not a girl. The girl-Wait guy, pulls out a cigarette, lighting it, and inhaling the fumes.

   "That punk owes me money over 1,00 dollars." I hear Landon grudgingly admit, yet shortly after the guy cackles with laughter.
    "Leave the poor kid alone, I'll give you 1,000 here." He says, then more commotion I can't hear.
    Although I do hear a 'deal' and his footsteps walking down the street.

   "Alright Phil, you can come out now. Your dues are payed." The guys voice calls out, catching me highly off guard. I hesitate before stepping out from behind my safe shelter, and then I come face to face with him. His face has a shine to it, which looks like highlighter, with soft brown curls.

He looks so innocent I'm so confused.

He laughs at my apparently shocked expression, and I notice he reeks of vodka.

     "How do you know my name?" I ask, really confused.

   "Don't fuck with your drug dealer." He shrugs, going through a bag.

    "What the hell is your outfit?" I ask, becoming increasingly annoyed by him.

   "I'm what they call a pastel." He
explains, lighting another cigarette.

    "Pastels don't smell like vodka."