bite me

‘and for no good reason!’ he stomped as he said the words and looked so crestfallen. ‘good, that’s exactly what my signature scent is. oh, and disappointment. weird of you to forget that one.’ river rolled his eyes, tilting his head at the sight of her heels. on a beach… at a carnival? ‘baby girl, are you one to talk? plus you know i’d never shit on your vibe about wearing heels at a beach. we get each other, y’know? two peas in very different pods, but we are fucking peas. and you’re just jealous of my adorable tea cup.’

“Oh it’s just awful.” She laughed. “I’m sorry, that’s my bad. Disappointment is the key feature, how could I have.” Cherry rolled her eyes. “Very different pods. My tea cups are the finest porcelain from France and cast iron from Japan. Your tea cup has sand in it. Let’s go get more whiskey. I’m dying for a drink.”

Hank had been walking around the festivities for hours. He couldn’t remember how many at this point but he was exhausted. There were still hours to go too. He’d found his way to a bench and for the briefest flash, thought about allowing his leg to breath though he never would, not this publicly. Still, it was bothering him. Before he could focus on it all too much, someone made a family friendly outburst and caught Hank’s attention. Someone who looked like they were having a worse time than he was. Standing up to clear the bench, Hank stepped out of the way. “Would you like to have a seat? Looks like you’re having a tough go at it.” 

Cherry looked up when someone else started speaking. “Would I like to have a seat? Gee, thanks. I’m in my prime at the top of my game and the universe sends me a fucking hobbit to offer me a bench seat.” She groaned, but still walked over to take a seat on the bench. Setting her heels down, she ran fingers through her hair. “I am not having a tough go.”

“At least with them behind you, you know you’ll get shit done.” Harlow shrugged. Cartha were a force to be reckoned with, and anyone who knew them knew it. “I’d offer my help, but I really don’t think that would do you any good.”

“And look like a failure in the meantime. No thanks. I’ll get it all done. You know I come to you when I need certain talents or I’m looking for something in your field, but that’s not going to help much with this bitch of a bride.”

“I don’t think you’ll have much trouble with that. Lord knows the standard of any place goes up the moment you step in.” Ria shrugged. “Takes one to know one, I guess. But, just be sure to invite me to your tower so I can take full advantage of the expensive booze I know you’ll have there.”

“I knew I kept you around for a reason. I most definitely will,” she purred. “Couldn’t have a party without you.” Cherry kept good company. She kept good liquor. Nothing she ever did was cheap. “What kind of fun are we getting into tonight?”

James let out out a snort of laughter then at the accent, not that HE could do any better at trying on an accent. “Maybe you should be a princess in England. Put that accent to some good use. What Beatles song were you named after?” he asked, his face piqued with curiously. Honestly, he didn’t even have the shame to look embarrassed at the fact that he was a useless excuse for an adult. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t work out whenever I try. So I feel like making ice cream wouldn’t work out either. I’ve never tried wine sorbet.”

Cherry put a hand over her chest. “I would be honored. I really should be. Honey, are you serious? My name is literally written across my storefront. Penny Lane. I was named after Penny Lane. Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes there beneath the blue suburban skies, I sit and meanwhile back,” she sang softly. “Sorbet is great. Wine can only make it better. I still want to know how you fuck up noodles.”

At the mention of his Hollywood name, Keegan stopped, his breath falling short as his heart sank to his stomach. “N-no.” he lied, though he knew if he was going to convince anyone that he wasn’t Ledger, he’d have to be better than that. “No, my name is Keegan. Keegan Gray.” he added, looking back that the other, realizing now that her face was familiar and there was a chance she knew exactly who he was. “As far as drinks go, any drink is honestly okay with me, as long as it gets the job done.” he admitted. “But, I have yet to try Seahorse’s, so, I’ll take your word on it. You are the local after all.” When she told him she’d help he nodded, thankful for the opportunity to pick her brain - both about the town and also about how she knew him. “Seahorse’s it is then? My treat for this one.”

Cherry’s eyes widened. “Yeah sure. Just as much as my name is Cherry. Okay. Keegan Gray. Not half bad. Seahorse isn’t bad. I’m definitely not a local. Gross. I’ve only been here about 5 years. I just have connections to every business I can to grow my own.”

~~

“Mmm see and that is why I don’t follow along with socialites and royals and celebrities. I would absolutely stress out about all that stuff until I couldn’t function.” An eyebrow quirked at the mention of a wedding. “Yours or someone else’s? I feel like it’s a stress fest either way but gosh weddings always come together at the end and are so beautifully wholesome to watch.” 

“Socialites are my key demo. I suppose not as much since I moved here, but sometimes people still search me out if they’re family friends,” she shrugged. Cherry had always been engrossed in celebrity gossip. “Someone else’s. I do what I can. She’s being a pain in the ass,” she groaned. 

“I respect that,” she nods once with a growing grin on her lips. She believed the same thing, if she were honest; why else would she have followed her own passion and become a yoga instructor instead of spending countless years in school – wasting away her talents. “Definitely keeping you in mind, should I ever need something organized. I’m far too distracted to do that kind of thing on my own.”

“Perfect. I’ve got everything you’d ever need anyway. Do you do that weird goat yoga bullshit? Not that I’m saying yoga is bullshit, because I do it every morning, but goats. I hate goats. For a short period of time my uncle had goats at the house. It was wild apparently. I wasn’t even a twinkle at the time. My dad was still a wreck over my mom. Total heart eyes, super cute.” Cherry looked over at her. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. It’s nice to see you taking that outfit out for a spin, though. It’s just a shame that no one else around here will truly appreciate it for what it is.” Ria shook her head, but there was a smirk on her face. “This is basically my second home, if anything you’re the stalker.”

She smiled with a raise of her shoulder. “Of course. I know. It really is a shame, but as long as I can upstage half this place,” she sighed. “I’m the stalker now? Next time I’ll just drink from my tower like the wicked witch I was born to be if only my family used their money for evil.”

“Maybe you should call in reinforcements. Get Martha here to put her in her place. No doubt she’d bring Camille, and between the two of them they’d have the bride compliant within minutes.” There was something to be said about the way their grandmothers got people to fall into line.

“I am not calling in Cartha and admitting defeat. I can do it on my own without their help. It’s almost over and I she can kiss my Bordelle covered ass.” Cherry wasn’t about to call in their grandmothers and have them step all over her own business. She’d handle it like any other tyrant she had before.

“Kim K what?” Gabriela asked realizing she didn’t even pay enough attention to Cherry, something she herself hated when someone else did but she was barely able to think about anything but Lance and Eleanor’s baby. “Sorry. I am not the best complany, I know. But I promise I’m going to change this. What about taking this drink you want and then you can tell me everything and I promise I’d listen the whole story?”

Cherry whined. “Gabby. Love. Pay attention,” she sighed softly. “What’s going on, Pookie? Talk to mama.” She put her hands out, cupping over the actress’. “I’m not at the level of drinking bourbon and eating ice cream yet, give it time.”

“I don’t think there’s a current James. At least nobody important is called James, anyway. Maybe my name is common but it’s TRADITIONAL,” James protested, as if there was actually a traditional bone in his body. Suddenly he gasped, leaning forward as she spoke. “You know Meghan? Can you tell her that she stole my future husband?” He laughed and then leaned back again, scooping the bright blue bubblegum ice cream he had bought into his mouth. “Made my own? I can’t even cook pasta let alone make ice cream. I guess if you made it yourself you could add extra rum and miss the raisins.” 

“Fuck if I know. I’m sure there’s someone somewhere. I’m not saying there’s a problem with the name ‘James’. It’s awfully British of you,” she slipped into the accent just for him. “I can’t say much as I was named after a Beatles song.” She wasn’t even sure if anyone she talked to enough remembered her real name, even though her business was named after it. “I’ll make sure to let her know. How can you not cook pasta? I’ve never made ice cream, but I’m curious. More like a wine sorbet sort of woman though.”