The Slut and the Falcon.

Introduction {Kalani}

Hi yes I am back with actual (hopefully) decently written fanfiction this time, please leave your thoughts in the comments.

 “Pass the whiskey, Kal.” Em, the only friend that Kalani Parks had besides her brother Marcus, said, reaching for the paper bag that was currently glued in Kalani’s hands. They were seated on top of their apartment building in downtown Toronto, doing what they always did on Sundays. Sunday was church day for most, so for the two girls it was a perfect day to dangle their feet thirty-eight stories above the ground and drink whatever alcohol Markus could supply them.

 “Gimme a sec.” Kalani mumbled, pulling the bottle to her lips and taking a large, final swig before handing it off to Em. The temperature was chilled, a little more than usual for mid October, causing Kalani to pull down the sleeves of her grey knit sweater so her boney hands were fully covered. 

That was another difference between the two girls, Em was curvy and exotic with a dark silky bob while Kalani was basically a single, blonde piece of uncooked spaghetti. Of course it wasn’t the only difference, Kalani was more into guys while Em was a full-blown lesbian with a girlfriend.

 Kalani also was a failed ballerina with a serious coffee addiction (who also just finished therapy for a sex addiction) that wished her family still loved her like they did before she became the poster child for failure and irresponsibility. She always hid behind baggy dark clothing due to a previous comment from her ballet teacher that went along the lines of “if you are even considering this art as a career you must lose at least ten pounds so you don’t break your ankles for trying to support all that fat.”

 It was something like that.

 Em was a model. She loved Kalani more than any person in the entire world (excluding her girlfriend Hayden, who she loved a little differently) and refused to let Kalani pay her part of rent. Em was mostly Brazilian, and was the most naturally beautiful girl Kalani had ever met. She was picked up by some agency and was now doing work for some low-key designers whose names Kalani couldn’t even pronounce. Oh, and she was stinking rich which was nice.

 Em understood Kalani; she knew every single thing there is to know about her best friend and never made Kalani feel like she was lonely. They were the saddest yet most promising dream team ever to grace the city of Toronto, it made everything just the slightest bit better.

 Except now Em was offered a once in a life time opportunity to do a show for Burberry in London in December, and the designer needed her to fly over there in two days to do some shoots and check that all the clothes fit. It was unfair really, to separate the girls for that long. Kalani couldn’t come even if she accepted Em’s offer to come with her, because she had to work her job at the tattoo parlor and look after her brother’s bar while he was in Morocco with his finance. Flying down for the show was an option, but she could not leave Toronto for the entire month and a half.

“I’m gonna miss ya, ya know that Kal?” Em slurred, throwing an arm around her best friend.

 “Yeah I know, I’m really gonna miss you too.” Kalani whispered, resting her chin on Em’s head. She tried not getting sad about it, because she had promised Em a year ago on this very spot that she would try to not get sad about things too much, but it was a little hard.

 “Don’t do anything stupid, Kal.” Kalani mumbled a weak promise in response. “No seriously Kalani Margret Parks, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you won’t do anything stupid to yourself while I’m gone. If anything happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do. Please promise me Kal, please.”

 This time, Kalani worded her promise, suddenly overwhelmed with the memory of what happened last time she felt unbearably lonely. She didn’t have to say a word about it; the scars on her wrist spoke loud enough.

 They were silent for a long time, holding onto each other while Em’s gold iPhone played the acoustic version of Book Club by the Arkells (a song which they had dubbed as ‘their anthem’) It was peaceful, the right kind of peaceful where they didn’t have to think that in forty eight hours Em would be on a plane to London, or that in twelve hours Kalani had to go to work and deal with an endless stream of paperwork, or that in twenty four hours she would most probably be finding a cup of coffee to drink to wash down the aftertaste of failure.

The boys are next ladies and maybe a gentleman or two.

You know what to do

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