i'll never feel ashamed

When Juliette deadass turns up her nose, Cecelia gives the box another shake, as if to remind Juliette that she comes bearing treasure. She doesn’t take Juliette’s disparaging comments personally, though. Never has, never will. It made the chase all the more gratifying. “I knew you’d understand.” Cecelia treaded as normal. “Your empathy’s the second sexiest thing about you.” There’s a tinge of irony in her voice, ‘cause she’s seen Blondie be everything but empathetic. “Hey. If you’re into that, no loss, right? Can’t lie, I didn’t expect horse girls to be your type.” She brushes a shoulder against Juliette’s to signal she was kidding, even though she doesn’t expect the blonde to warm up anytime soon. “’Cause you would’ve said thank you and I would’ve died of shock. So, you’re welcome.”

“The finest dumpster money could buy,” Cecelia says with a laugh, just to jostle the other girl. “Jesus. You ask a lot of questions.” She lets her board drop to the pavement and letting a foot rest on top of it, rolling it back and forth as she put the boxed wine back under her arm. “What’s the point of giving up all my secrets upfront?” Cecelia was notoriously terrible at date-planning, preferring short entanglements that didn’t last a week, but, again, no bullshit, she made some effort. “Just trust me. No bullshit.” Drifting a little, she motioned with her head for Juliette to follow her. Or was that just an excuse to find a better view of her date? Cecelia wasn’t sure. “Did I tell you you look hot tonight already? Fuck, too bad. You look hot.”

The way Cecelia continued to show interest in her despite Juliette’s constant negativity towards the other girl would annoy her and most people under different circumstances. Sometimes, when she wasn’t busy dwelling on how her life was ruined, a conversation with Cecelia felt almost comforting. It was something consistent, she supposed. “I bet you say that to every girl.” Juliette smiles briefly. “Funny. That was actually pretty funny.” She had enough self awareness to know she had a critical demeanor. It was the result of years of getting whatever she wanted for most of her life. “Skater girl, horse girl, what next? Since my standards are dropping so rapidly.” Admittedly the idea of any of any of her old upper East sider friends coming across this scene would be less than ideal for her. “Is that all it takes? My gratitude? I’ll keep that in mind next time you’re especially getting on my nerves.”

Juliette nearly stops in her tracks, wide eyed for a moment at the idea of being taken to a literal dumpster, but is quick to recover after Cecelia’s laugh. “Let’s just say I’m a curious person. Also, I don’t like surprises.” Not untrue, it frustrated her endlessly to not know the outcome of something. There was perhaps some more judgement on her part as well as she doubted they had similar definitions of what a was anyway. “Trust me.” She scoffs. “If I had a nickel.” Juliette mutters before her full attention is back on her date. She wouldn’t admit it out lout but she didn’t mind the attention. “I know.” Giving Cecelia a once over, she keeps walking, eventually ending up a few paces ahead of her. “You don’t clean up too bad yourself.”

Mat stuck an umbrella into another towering drink of a horrifically unnatural colour, sliding it across the sticky and coaster ringed bar, to the sweaty and red woman who was waiting for her Mai Tai. “Forty grams of sugar in that,” he said as cheerfully as he could muster, adjusting the collar of his Hawaiian shirt, waiting for a tip to be passed his way. The woman glared before hopping off the stool with her prize, a horribly mixed drink that he personally wouldn’t have tipped for— but still found it him to be offended. “That’s what you get for offering shining customer service these days,” Mat grumbled, turning his attention to the next patron. His head canted and his tone dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “You know, I shouldn’t be saying this, but if you want something good— order something on the rocks or go somewhere else. Don’t think we’ve had new cranberry juice for the vodka crans in two months, I just keep topping up the tank with water every shift.”

If Alexa wasn’t so confident in herself she might have felt out of place somewhere as bright and bubbly as a tiki bar and fruity drinks were certainly not her taste, but she actually found herself having a good time. There was a sort of pleasure that came from the dirty looks of middle aged women after Alexa cursed a little too loudly. “Nah I think fucking workers over is just a hobby of hers. It should be legal for you to spit in drinks.” She leans closer to the bartender as he whispers and nods thoughtfully. “If you ever seen me here drinking one of those here just know it isn’t by choice. It’s a cry for help probably.” Alexa also considered the fact that she was an adult and if she wanted to drink juice she would have just stayed home. “Whiskey on the rocks. Make it a double as long as you don’t water that shit down too. I won’t tip you unless you kiss my ass, got it?”

“I hate that you’re not wrong.” Trix laughed, both loving New York and hating it. Though, only locals were allowed to hate New York, everyone else was an idiot. “That would’ve been ugly.” Trix grimaced dramatically, mouthing the word yikes. “Well when you put it that way…might fuck around and toss myself into the street on a prayer.” she joked, “You must be some sort of genius.” she added with a smile, being friendly. “I only run into strangers on the sidewalk on purpose sometimes, if they’re cute or if they’re an asshole. Skating is my hobby, running into people and crashing into the ground is just a side effect. But all our virtues have vices.” Trix tilted her head, hoping she’d used those words correctly because honestly? She wasn’t fucking sure. “You look familiar, like I’ve definitely seen you around once or twice. That weird? Whatever.”

“I’m right about most things. And this city is pretty predictable.” They wink to the blonde before laughing with her. In all honesty Rue loved New York since they moved there. “I mean, if you were burned I think some people find scars sexy so maybe it would have just upped your street cred. We’ll never know.” With a shrug, they feel themselves being pretty charmed by the girl. The compliments helped. “I’ll look out for a Tesla for you. The rich are good for some things. A genius? Absolutely. I’m also very gracious if you couldn’t tell.” Listening to her speak, they nod thoughtfully. “Interesting method. And clearly I’m the first thing. You make it sound like this happens all the time and here I thought I was just lucky.” Rue grins. “You’re cute and all but I’ll have to pass.” They joke. “You been by Fidelity Records at all? I work there most days. I’m Rue.”

It was late when he stepped outside of Allied, the heavy door creaking shut and muting the bar’s loud music, replacing it with the sounds of Brooklyn at night: a car alarm going off on a distant street, conversations happening on the sidewalk. The pavement was dyed crimson in the glow of the bar sign, and everyone standing beneath it— smokers, friends of smokers who didn’t mind polluted air— looked strangely lurid, bathed in blood, like extras in a Stephen King movie. His own friends had dispersed (making excuses to head home long before last call; how boring everyone was, now that they all felt the need to act like adults), and Julius was planning to smoke a cigarette, scroll through his contacts, and play a speedy game of roulette to see where he might end up tonight. Only when his hand slipped into his empty back pocket did he remember: he’d finished the last of his Galouises this morning. Fuck. His brows dove into an unhappy child’s pout. At least in Williamsburg, he’d had that bodega on the corner of 10th and Wythe and the little European grocery store right next to the Bedford subway, reliable vendors of French cigarettes that only Julius seemed to be buying. Here in Crown Heights, the name elicited blank stares from bodega owners. Might as well have been asking if they sold Fabergé eggs. But whatever, he’d make the trip to Williamsburg tomorrow and buy out whatever supply he could find; the more pressing matter was needing a cigarette now, so Julius turned to the person closest to him on the sidewalk, lighting up behind their cupped palm. “Hey, cigarette for a dollar?” There was an etiquette to follow; you could ask for a light and expect it for free, but bumming a smoke meant a fair exchange. Cigarettes were too precious a commodity to give away for free. The open carton was held out, and Julius selected one of the sticks from inside (God, what were these, Camels? Pall Malls? Too dark to really tell; maybe for the best) with a muttered ‘thanks’. He stuck it between his lips, ignoring the lighter that was also extended and fishing for his own. Sparking the cheap plastic Bic, one hand sheltering the flame, he kept it lit till the cigarette caught; then dragged deep, welcoming the restorative burn into his lungs. The wind took the smoke from his mouth in a thin stream. Besides him, the person was still waiting. Julius looked at them edgewise, without fully turning his face, and rebuffed the expectant gaze with a single, arched eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t have a dollar. Sorry. Used all my small bills on tips.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Rue to go out and have a drink or a few so long as they weren’t opening the store the next day, not that Rob was a particularly strict boss nor did they ever draw in a huge morning crowd if there was one at all. Hipsters looking to collect indie records and old men trying to find music from their glory days alike were certainly not morning people. They suspected it had to do with all of the weed both groups smoked. No judgement from Rue’s end, just an observation. After Sio indulged them with one last dance, he called it a night and headed back to their apartment and Rue found themselves alone. Not that that was ever an issue as they were more than confident they would find something fun to do in Crown Heights. The night was young and Rue was three shots in. They will say the irritating part of drinking was how much it made them crave nicotine. It was a nasty habit, they were more than aware, but being an adult meant you got to pick your own vices.

A part of them is relieved to be outside, being able to hear their own thoughts and taking the chance to cool down outside. New York summers were brutal but at least the temperature dipped the later it got. They pull out their own pack of cigarettes and light one up and their eyes wander around the outside crowd who was fairly thin. Rue watches the person asking around for one, poor guy, but they’ve all been there. When he speaks they scold themselves for not recognizing Julius earlier. The moment they approach him, their eyes roll back at the comment about not having any cash on him. “You’ll have to excuse my friend. He’s a cheap ass.” They say without any malice in their voice, handing the person a wrinkly dollar bill so nobody would make a fuss. “I thought you cared about etiquette. If you ask me that's my cigarette now.” Rue teases lightly.

Rey had spent all afternoon and at that point all night at work, her partner had had some sort of emergency and as Rey was the one in charge and would never think of neglecting her job, she’d taken on twice the responsibility. There was a funeral happening early the next day and everything had to be perfect and ready. She understood when you were dealing with grief the last thing you wanted to do was have to deal with a million other details, that was what Rey’s exact job was. It was about eleven when she finally managed to change her clothes and get out of the building, she headed to the only spot she knew would be open, Rose Diner. 

Due to the late nights and the fact that she wasn’t too keen on bars, she often found herself there. Ordering the same exact thing that she always did which first began with a rather large glass of orange juice. As she sat at her table, Rey looked around to realize for once the place wasn’t completely packed. “You should try getting the burger with mac and cheese in it. They’ll do that if you ask, it’s the best thing here.” She recommended to the person sitting nearest to her. It was uncharacteristic of her to speak to someone she didn’t know but she also desperately wanted to get her mind off of the past nine hours. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Alexa to be spotted in the neighborhood at night as she usually stumbled back there after either doing a show or any other shenanigans she may have gotten herself into that night. The Rose Diner was the perfect spot to sober up if she needed to in order to get back home. Besides, drinking always made her hungry and flirting with the reluctant wait staff was all the entertainment she needed. Her eyes comb through the menu as she has trouble deciding which greasy food will sustain her for the next few hours. Her brow quirks up, but Alexa isn’t put off to the idea of talking to a stranger. She recognizes the other vaguely, remembering how they denied her tattoo services (which was probably for the best).

“Oh no shit?” She asks, turning her head to the other. “I was in the mood for a heart attack tonight. I think I could beat it, you know?” Alexa says without a hint of irony. “Actually, I can’t help but notice we’re both sitting alone and if you ask me that just isn’t right. Mind if I join you? I’m great company. Scout’s fucking honor.” Great company was most definitely a stretch if you asked for any normal person’s impression of Alexa, but maybe she could convince the other to have a few rounds with her after she stuffs her face.

Chandler didn’t usually do breakfast at the diner, but he desperately needed to go grocery shopping. As he looked over his menu, he caught the argument between a waitress and a rather unlikeable customer. He didn’t hide the fact he was staring, hoping the shitty customer would realize she was making a scene and stop….although people like her rarely had any shame. Still, Chandler was surprised when she dumped her drink on the waitress. Oh, shit. He tried not to laugh. That would be rude, and he did feel sympathy for the employee. As she asked him for a napkin, he shrugged and gave it to her. “Sure, but I don’t think it’s gonna help much. You’re gonna have to rinse that pop out at the sink.” He pointed out.

"Let me just go and dunk my head under the water with the dirty dishes then. Or in the bathroom that hasn’t been cleaned since 2003. Thanks for the bright idea.” She snapped immediately at the boy. Juliette knew she should have been perhaps a tad more polite but clearly her consideration for customers was incredibly low at the moment. Putting her hair up before taking the napkin out of his hand to wipe her face off, she sighs. “Sorry about that.” She sounds fairly dismissive, which makes the apology questionable but she believed the fact she said it at all was big of her. “Pop? I didn’t know I was talking to someone from a cornfield in Ohio.”

The entire encounter had seemed to happen both in slow motion and within a matter of seconds, the blonde was barely beginning to register it when she was asked for a napkin. “Oh, yeah, sure…” She grabbed a handful of them, handing them over to the girl. It was impressive the way that she had stood up for herself, considering the fact that young girls or women in general tended to be taught to shrink down instead of stand up for themselves. “I’m sorry you had to go through that but I’d definitely think again before messing with you. Do you need to go home and change?” 

"Hello?” Her tone is impatient, almost as if she forgot she’s the one who is supposed to not lose her patience being the service worker. Juliette does muster up a thank you, however, and does appear to be genuinely grateful. She begins to pat herself dry, but shudders as she feels an ice cube slide down her back under her uniform. “Well, if that’s the sort of reputation I’m starting to build for myself in this neighborhood,” she purses her lips pensively, “there could be worse things.” Juliette’s brows raise up. “If it were up to me I wouldn’t have gotten out of bed at five in the morning Tempting offer, but unless you own this fine establishment with top notch patrons, I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

Harley was so not a morning person. If he had to be up this early, there was no way he was cooking himself breakfast. There was some time before he had to meet his mom in Manhattan, so he decided to get breakfast at Rose Diner. He was enjoying his omelette, despite the obnoxious woman sitting one table over. It was hard to hide his smile as the waitress finally snapped at her, even if he felt for the girl. At least when people pulled this attitude at the bar, they were usually drunk. He couldn’t make out every word of the altercation, but he did catch the part about the waitress wanting to stab herself, and did find himself laughing a little at that. 

The next thing he knew, the customer was standing up and throwing soda on the waitress. Harley’s mouth hung open. “Yeah. Your hair’s not dyed is it? Because soda and hair dye don’t mix.” He asked as he offered her his napkin, an empty gesture considering the circumstances, but he was unsure what else to do to help.

Juliette didn’t know what she was expecting working an entry level job like waitressing, but it certainly wasn’t this. The long shifts, the feeble pay, and the entitled customers who were set on making her life a living Hell. If asked she would say she’s in Purgatory anyway and she didn’t even believe in that sort of thing. The woman shoots her another dirty look before storming out of the restaurant to which Juliette had half a mind to flip her off, but figured she was most likely in enough trouble. “Thank you.” Juliette wipes her face before looking back over to him. “I’m guessing Pepsi isn’t the secret to voluminous locks and long lasting color, is it?” She scowls, slowly growing irritated again. “It can’t be any worse than the boxed dye I’m assuming I’ll have to pick up now. I should shave it off at this point.” 

“Oooh……fuck.” Trix’s eyes trailed to the side at the awkwardness of the coffee dripping down the sidewalk. She was surprised the stranger reached a hand out to her, and she grabbed it quickly before the offer expired, rising to balance herself on her skates. “Thanks. I won’t say anything about you putting coffee above a human body,” she said, doing just that, “but uh, wow, that really sucks. Yikes.” Trix grimaced, swaying forward and back on their skates. “I would offer to pay for it but like, I won’t. I mean, I can’t. You know, money is tight.” she shrugged and then laughed, “Oh, you think I trust New York drivers not to end my life? Rather a person than a Porsche.” 

“This is New York, most things are put above a human body. But thanks for not mentioning it.” They say sarcastically, but there’s no malice in their tone. Rue seldom took things personally and there wasn’t any harm except for maybe the rats would burrow into the plastic cups. “Not going to lie, none of the hot coffee got on you which means less trouble for me. It could’ve been worse.” They look at the blonde. “Right. No young adult has twenty dollars on them anymore.” Replying with jest, Rue found themselves more entertained than irritated. “If you got hit by a Porsche and lived think of how you could sue the Hell out of them. Then you like to roll into strangers in the middle of the sidewalk for fun? It’s not my first choice for a hobby but you do you.”

Feet cemented to her skateboard, Cecelia weaved through the stream of people, deliberately going against foot traffic ‘cause she was an asshole like that. It was like an obstacle course, with bonus points for each brush against passerby or annoying tourists. New Yorkers were known for being fast-paced and, as far as Cecelia was concerned, getting somewhere fast was in her blood. It didn’t help that she was late, and it wasn’t even intentional. See, she’d gotten up in the late in the afternoon — an hour ago — and had only so many clean clothes to cycle through before settling on a semi-decent men’s shirt that hung down to her knees. How exactly Cecelia scored a date with her, she wasn’t exactly sure, but she actually gave a shit about not messing it up. Which, ew. She couldn’t get Juliette’s face or her golden hair or her biting words out of her head. Whatever it was about Juliette, she infected Cecelia with a ton of involuntary thoughts about her. 

Kicking up her board and tucking it under her free arm, the other hand full of a gift she brought for the occasion, Cecelia trotted up the steps to Juliette’s apartment. The neighborhood surroundings were familiar, obviously, but it wasn’t where she expected to find someone like Juliette dwelling. Once she found Juliette’s apartment number, Cecelia rang the doorbell, fighting the itch to ditch, but Juliette appeared before Cecelia could have made any wrong moves. And, damn, was she worth the wait. “’Sup, Blondie.” Cecelia dealt Juliette an upward nod. And, of course, Juliette wouldn’t forget to remind Cecelia that she was late. “Aw, you missed me,” she said playfully, willfully misreading Juliette’s chilly tone. A smile found its place on her features. “Missed you too. Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Traffic, ya know.” Cecelia feigned an offended expression. “Juliette, what do you think of me? Don’t answer that, but I wasn’t raised in a barn.” Holding up her bounty of boxed wine, she gave the case a shake so that the contents sloshed around. “Does it get any better than shitty alcohol? That, you can answer.”

On paper Cecelia was the exact opposite of Juliette’s type. She was persistent and irritating and had the kind of confidence that Juliette herself was never a fan of. Not to mention— ‘Sup Blondie —the way she didn’t listen to literally anything. Juliette’s eyes roll on cue the moment her date speaks. Not that this was a date. They were just going to hang out, whatever that meant. The girl was lucky she was indulging her at all. “Cecelia.” She sighs in response to the greeting before letting out a laugh. “You would have to leave me alone in order for me to miss you.” Her tone is cool, but the fact that she made an effort to look nice for Cecelia and was starting to walk down her steps was a sign of Juliette’s commitment to the night. She figured the only outcome that would come from this would be a headache. 

“I’m sure running people over with your board and trespassing to do tricks is extremely time consuming.” She’s about to comment more before she looks at the boxed wine that the other had brought. In all honesty she’s never had alcohol that wasn’t worth more than a car. When you’re raised by the best you get the best. Juliette’s nose scrunches up. “Everything about this tells me that’s exactly the kind of place you were raised.” Unfortunately, due to falling on hard times, she wasn’t going to say no to the free drinks. “You don’t want me answering that either. So, what alley are you taking me to?”

The woman gives her a dirty look before standing up to which the blonde gestures toward the exit. She grabs the cup from the table still mostly filled with soda and dumps it onto Juliette’s head before storming out. Gasping as she attempts to pull the ice cubes out of her hair she peers over to someone who was watching. “Do you have a napkin?” 

Skating down the sidewalk in zigzags, with her headphones in, Beatrice twisted her shoulder swiftly to pirouette. The soft swat of the wind whipped her hair, “Oh, fuck!” she yelled as she felt her body collide with a passerby causing her to lose balance and fall bottom to the ground. Instead of growing embarrassed, she dropped her head back and fell into laughter. “My poor, unfortunate ass!“ she cried, finally looking at the person. “God, you’re like a god damn brick.”

Rue lets out an ‘oof’ as their bodies collide but recovers quickly as they watch the other fall to the ground. The real victim of this accident was the tray of coffees that they had been carrying as they were on their way to work and was feeling generous enough to give Rob and the rest of them something to help them get through the day. They watch as the liquid runs along the sidewalk. "Dammit.” They mutter under their breath. “Tell that to my mocha latte. You can live with a little bruise on your tailbone.” Rue leans down, outstretching their hand to help the other up. “It serves you right for skating on the sidewalk. You ever think there’s a bike lane for a reason?”

Sonata wasn’t having a terrible time, in fact, they were enjoying Allied more than they expected and had even run into a few friends throughout the night. Two glasses of wine in; as a casual drinker Sonata didn’t have any intention to drink much more before leaving. They’d just reentered the bar from taking some fresh air outside, catching the end of the current band’s set and rolling their eyes at the sound of punk music, stepping a little further into the crowd closest to the bar so that there was a clear view of the stage. When Sonata saw who was playing, they registered the face right away (which they hadn’t expected to happen) and released a “You’re kidding.” under their breath. Arms crossed defensively, they watched Alexa sing and, though they’d never admit it….she had a…nice voice. Anyway, they hadn’t realized they were staring until the pair made eye contact. Sonata swallowed, immediately dropping their arms and turning to face the bartender, “Uh, yeah a shot please.” they asked amateurishly. “A shot?” the bartender replied with a cocked, curious eyebrow, “Of?” 

Sonata stared at the bartender blank faced, pursed lips in a bind, “God, I don’t know, whatever people take shots of.”  @deadfricnd·

Alexa had been performing at Allied since she arrived in New York. She fully took advantage of the owner’s soft spot for kids from a small town trying to make their big city dreams come true or whatever bullshit she could come up with. Truthfully, she just wanted somewhere to scream into the microphone. Then she brought along the rest of Eraserhead who undoubtedly gave the staff a headache, but they brought in a consistent crowd every time they played. Alexa’s stage presence perfectly reflects how she acts in her everyday life, wild and unpredictable and something you couldn’t look away from. The crowd cheers as she yells the lyrics to one their newest songs, the high energy feeding her never ending confidence. There’s a few audience members begging for an encore to which Alexa shrugs and flips them off before hopping off the small stage. 

After putting their instruments away, it appeared that her fellow bandmates were going to call it a night. Not even Theo could be tempted with the prospect of free drinks and a joint. Whatever, they were lame anyway. Alexa goes back into the building, strutting right over to the bar. “Whiskey. Neat.” It doesn’t take long for her to notice Sonata and it takes even quicker for her to slide over next to them. “Well I’ll be damned.” Her lips curl up into a classic Alexa Cox grin. “What’s a nice place like this doing in a person like you?”

van: so what'd you do with it

van: can we get them five dollar pints down the street? i think this place is having happy hour

van: please

van: i mean, i don't blame her? ;)

theo: idk if i should spend it all in one place u know :/

theo: oh you want to get a cheeky pint, innit? can't believe i just got asked out by harry styles

theo: stroke my ego more why don't u