𝑭𝑼𝑳𝑳 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑷 | in which a small town girl gets hired by a billionaire hot-shot to cover up all his mistakes.
Join January, a small town girl from Wisconsin who had big aspirations, bigger than what her family could afford or spare the headache...
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THE FAMILIAR HUM of the answering machine buzzes to a stop after the phone stops ringing. January can hardly make out who's talking, the voice seems distant and fuzzy, unfamiliar but welcoming. She groans as she starts to stir, finally trying to wake up after a long night. Her head is still throbbing from the alcohol she had consumed yesterday. She had never gotten hang overs. She grimaces at this sign, the sign of her getting older.
The bright light seeping from the living room window was starting irritate her, along with the insistent sound of scratching coming from the other room. She easily identified the sound as Jiji in her litter box, it was something she had grown accustom to hearing but still hated the scratching sound of litter beneath the cats soft paws. Hesitantly, she looks at the clock on the wall for the time. "Two!" she shouts in surprise, quickly leaping up from the couch. She instantly regrets it as dizziness overcomes her, she grips her head as she tries her best to stop from collapsing.
"Ah god," she hisses in pain. Aside from her head throbbing, her neck and shoulders were hurting from the uncomfortable position of the couch. She clumsily stumbles over to the answering machine. She curses to herself as she sees the red numbers flash wildly across its tiny screen. Four missed messages just from last night and this morning alone. Had there been some emergency? She gnaws on her bottom lip as she presses the play button. All the while, Jiji stood at the bottom of her feet rubbing up against her, meowing. It was way past breakfast time for her. "Sorry, Jiji," she mumbles as she heads towards the food bowl. The faster she got the cat to stop meowing the faster her guilt could let up.
"First message received: September fifth, two-thousand-two, at nine-sixteen a.m." the cold voice of the answering machine listed off. "Hey, it's me," Babs's voice sounded groggy but nevertheless more awake than she was over the speaker of the phone. "I was just calling to see if you still wanted to get brunch before my gig. I know you're probably hungover so maybe some good diner food will solve the problem. Or any kind of food. It's up to you. Call me back. Love you,"
The answering machine whines before it stops, making January wince. She had totally forgotten about brunch. She kicks herself. Horrible diner food sounded pleasant and what her body needed right now. "Message two received: September fifth, two-thousand-two, at ten-fifty-three a.m." the machine once again listed off. "Hey, I haven't heard from ya. I think you're still sleeping which is fine. We can do brunch at another time. My gig is at twelve thirty so I have to go. It's the stupid "before and after picture" thing. I'm "before". I'll call you later tonight. Love you,"
The answering machine hisses to a stop. January's bottom lip protrudes out in guilt. She always knew Babs got worked up before her shoots. She was probably a ball full of stress right about now. January remembers her telling her about this gig, thankfully she told her where it was shooting at. She could probably stop by with an apology muffin. She trudges her way into the bathroom to sprucen herself up for the day.
