MIRRORBALL.

It’s nice to hear his bed is comfortable for her. But the comment about his smell makes him ponder, eyebrows creases and has suggestions in a serious tone, “If you wanted something that imitated me, you could have just said you wanted to take a nap and I could have joined you. My blanket project is very mobile.” The idea of Maya taking a nap on him while he worked on his knitting, maybe listened to a podcast, sounded very… domestic. The kind of comfort he wanted to have now. But the mention of fighting with her sister made his eyebrows crease, and he looked down at his project, hands still holding the knitting needles, only to come back the moment she touched him, asking about his own siblings. His lips press together before responding. “No. But we don’t talk about our feelings at all. At least, I don’t with them. Who knows what they do with each other. It’s not like I’m that much of an involved member of the family, apart from the business.” Maybe it comes out a bit more bitter than intended. But a part of him almost wishes he fought more with his siblings than not at all. Maybe they’d be on different terms than now.

๑

A pang of guilt surges through Maya after asking about family. Perhaps now wasn’t the time, maybe things were sensitive. Or maybe they weren’t at the point in their relationship where family was a malleable topic. Either way, Maya does what she can to settle into the topic. She thinks of her mother and then her father. She thinks of their harshness and how they might react to Ardin now. “My family is the same,” She replies, sorrow evident on her face. “The only way we know how to talk to one another is through fighting, really. I don’t remember the last time I sat and truly talked with any of them.” A bittersweet laugh sounds from Maya before a hand reaches up to rub at her eyes again. A lump forms in her throat, the urge to cry growing more prominent in the moment. Though, she attempts to combat the feeling. “Usually, me and my siblings get along, though. We can find a common ground. I don’t know.” She sighs, “But whenever we all fight I think about...my father, especially. He brings out the worst in all of us. There was this time where he punched my arm so hard that I had a bruise for weeks.” Another laugh, a lackluster coping mechanism that Maya simply couldn’t shake. “I probably should have told you about all this before you wanted to be with me, now that I think about it..”

Napping tends to stress Ardin out. He feels like he’s wasting hours in his day if he goes for a snooze. He should be doing something– something productive, rather than sleeping. But he doesn’t judge Maya for doing the same. She’s cute when she takes a nap. He figures, she must be tired. So while she’s asleep, he goes around the house, and tidies up, only to find himself on the couch, watching tv, and continuing to knit a terrible blanket. But he’s determined to finish it, holes be damned.

When she comes back down, looking even cuter with her hairs in a mess, he cracks a small smile, moving over his knitting things to give her space to sit. “That’s okay. Glad you found my bed comfortable.” He nods, pausing the show on the television. “You sister? No, I don’t think so.” He ponders this for a moment. “No, I don’t remember your phone ever going off. Were you expecting her?”

๑

A quiet, sincere laugh escapes Maya as she moves to tuck her legs underneath her body comfortably. Her eyes scan the living room, taking notice that Ardin had tidied up a tad while she was asleep. The image of him cleaning flashes across her mind and it makes her smile, her gaze averting downward to her hands that still held onto her glass of water. She moves to place the cup onto a coaster upon the coffee table. “It’s so comfortable. Like sleeping on a cloud. And it smells like you so that’s always a plus.” The woman teases with a chuckle, leaning her head against the cough cushion behind her. When they circle back to the topic of her sister, Maya shrugs. “Yeah, uh, kinda, I guess...” She says, a touch of sorrow oozing from her tone. “We’ve been – I don’t know. Fighting. Disagreeing. The usual.” One hand reaches up to rub at her tired eyes, “My parents too. We just keep fighting and I don’t know what to do anymore. It’s exhausting, you know?” Her eyes settle on Ardin then, smiling a little at the sight of him. For a moment, she reaches over to caress his cheek lightly. “Do you and your siblings fight?”

Where: Catalina Marina Dock When: February 1st, morning @catalinastarter​

Amelia had a free morning that day so she had taken a walk along the coastline, ending at the Catalina Marina Dock for a short break before she would return home again. Her sight was on the large water in front of her, knowing that on the other side of it the rest of the state of California could be found. The ferry caught her attention, shaking her head for a moment as she remembered the article in the Catalina Times, knowing that all the ferry drivers had to take a course to update themselves. It made Amelia chuckle to herself. “Do you think that the rumour of the mayor’s son spilling hot sauce all over the panelling is true or not?” She asked the person standing close to her out of nowhere. She smiled at the person. “Sorry, that one is out of the blue. Were you on the ferry when it happened?”

๑

Starting the new year lost at sea was oddly fitting for someone like Maya Wollman. She was made up of strange, unlucky circumstances that made her who she was today. Though, even so, it hasn’t quite left her mind. Despite being used to unusual disasters, Maya also had a proclivity for seeing certain things as a sign from the universe. So, to Maya, being stranded like that the stroke of midnight, had left an uneasy feeling within the pit of her stomach. Was the world trying to tell her something? Was there something she missed? Should she beware of her impending future? The questions went on and on and Maya couldn’t quite see the end of them.

Which is what leads her here, back to the docks. Her dark eyes look out toward the water, watching as ripples lick the shore and boats sail by in the near distance. Then, someone is speaking to her, and Maya is quick to grin. “I believe it. One time I got grape jelly all over my parents old VCR and it busted it completely. So, it’s possible.” A laugh sounds from Maya before she continues, “Yeah, I was. I started the year off with a raging wedgie and a bout of sea sickness. Go figure, right?” She shrugs, “What about you? Were you on the ferry that night?”

it takes little beyond a second  —  half a breath,  really  —  for the two women to meet eyes and form some sort of strange recognition.   for the briefest of moments,  dolores even wonders  —  upon seeing the other woman perk up and edge out of the man’s grasp,  to make a beeline toward her  —  if they’d met before.   but that thought passes,  and she straightens.   she’s approached in hushed tones and dolores leans to better hear her words,  listening as her eyes,  wide and wondering,  wander just behind the woman,  watching as the man in question  —  cheeks rosy and confused  —  quickly stumbles toward them.

she stops to think,  following the man’s eyeline to notice he’s staring at  —  what else  —  this woman’s ass.   and just as he’s about to reach for her once more,  dolores snakes an arm around the woman’s waist to pull her closer,  out of reach.   rather than roll her eyes as she so wanted,  already annoyed by yet another man’s drunken behavior,  she allows them to twinkle,  lets a smirk grace her lips.   ❛  baby,  i’ve been looking for you all over,  ❜  dolores laughs,  leaning  —  in a move she hoped wasn’t too much  —  to press a kiss to the woman’s cheek.   ❛  mm,  you smell amazing.  ❜

her opposite hand raises to the woman’s cheek,  a smile still present on her face,  to wipe away a smudge of red lipstick dolores had left behind.   though she doesn’t look his way,  she feels his presence lingering the way one feels watched in the dark.   and she hopes for no need to engage:  that by just ignoring him altogether,  he’ll take the hint.   to the woman,  dolores continues,  ❛  i hope no one’s been bothering you.  ❜

In an instant, the apples of Maya’s cheek burn a deep shade of red. There’s a quiet chuckle stuck inside her throat as this woman presses a kiss to the delicate skin of her cheek. In truth, it always amazed Maya how perfect most women were. She spent most of her days dodging the likes of men, men that weren’t her boyfriend. You can trace this back to issues with her father, an inevitable fleet that Maya assumes she stinks of. Daddy issues, huh? Some strange man might say to her at a different bar after being rejected not once by twice by her. What hurt the most was that they weren’t exactly wrong and Maya usually made a swift move to head toward the restroom when this situation come about.

But, now, here she was, in the arms of a woman who comes to her in the shape of a hero. A sigh of relief sounds from her as she reaches up to brush a strand of hair from this woman’s face in mock-intimacy. Just to sell the whole thing. “Do I?” Maya questions sincerely, thinking to smell her armpit in the midst of her questioning. As the moment passes, Maya decides to look back for a quick moment at the man in question. He seems a little puzzled now, his brows furrowed as his gaze shifts from them and to his drink still settled on the bar counter. 

And then, back to her savior, “Nope, nobody at all. How’s your night been, baby?” She decides on, a cheeky grin gracing her expression. With one more glance, the man who bothered her is now turned away, engaging in conversation with some other hopeless bar patron. It evokes a sigh of relief from Maya, moving to set her beer down onto the table she was now seated at. “God, I’m so sorry about that. I’m usually used to telling strange men to go fuck themselves but tonight I was just exhausted.” Maya says, her whole body burning. “I owe you one. Let me buy you a drink or something. Or a late dinner, at least.” A snort sounds from her, “Or I can just...leave you to your evening, of course. I don’t mean to impose or anything.”

The reaction to which he was taken in by the one who has entered the reception, pulled the corner of his lips into a smile and caused a little bit of amusement to his situation. Leaning against the counter, he did the same, sapphire hues scanned the woman for a second before he decided what his next words would be. One look over his shoulder to see if the manager was coming back to the front desk, but no sign. He has time. “I was trying to take advantage of their wellness and maybe use the shower or enjoyed a dive in the pool, it’s a nice day after all.” But it’s his last words that causes a rare event to happen and a laughter fall passes Thomas’ lips; if he continues with them, his reputation may suffer. After all, he wasn’t well-known for being the most giggle one. 

“As much as I think the idea of me in a Garfield t-shirt might amuse my lunch company, between that and the hoodie. I’ll have to pass and stick with the hoodie, but thank you for the offer.” But his eyes were focus on the possession he holds closer to her chest and can avoid but points to it as he approaches to take a seat next to her, leaving one empty chair between them. “Maybe I should have tried for a job. What are you applying for?”

๑

This man was too handsome. He must be a raging piece of shit in secret. Maya’s thoughts come in an instant and she’s quick to straighten her posture, still holding onto her resume. “Dude, you’re gonna have to do better than that.” Maya points a finger dramatically, “You have to fake an emergency. Say somebody from the club put a scratch on your car or something or backed up into it. Or say you slipped and fell outside and you’ll take legal action. That’s the way you get to ‘em. After that, you’ll have all the showers and pool days that you want. Or for a limited time, at least.” At least Maya had that from her tainted youth, an abundance of stupid little street smarts. 

Dark eyes watch as he takes a seat beside her, more specifically how he leaves a seat between them. Just for that, Maya decides to retract the piece of shit assumption. Though she still keeps it on hold for the future of this interaction. “Oh, um,” The woman starts, looking down at the piece of paper in her grasp. “Anything, actually. A receptionist job wouldn’t be too bad, though.” She shrugs, “Right now I’m working over at McFlanagan’s, the bar. It’s been nice and it pays the bills, but last night someone threw a peanut between my tits and it set me off a little.” Maya’s gaze averts to the man beside her once more, "You look like your name is Michael. Or John.” She cants her head to the side, “Are you a Michael or a John?”

Miles hadn’t yet thanked her or even fully processed her agreeableness, before falling into a defensive state of mind once the question hits. “No…” Brows knit deeper as he hugged the stairway railing a little tighter. He hadn’t meant to look so pathetic, sitting here with a clear tear streaked faced over something he could brush off, but he couldn’t fake that confidence, not today. Not when everything felt wrong. A dark cloud against sunlight backdrop, like something that didn’t belong. A smudge among the bright, shiny faces. He takes a few moments before looking up again, their best attempt at a scowl on display, “No,” he denied the obvious, stronger this time, wiping the tears away, “Just got somethin’ in my eye…” But the lie wouldn’t be fooling anyone nor does it make Miles feel better. 

With a deep sigh, he got up and brushed over the clothes he wore, brushing off any dirt that he couldn’t see through clouded eyes. “Listen, I just need to you go in there and apologise to them on my behalf, okay? Nothing gross I promise.” Their voice broke but a quick clear of their throat and Miles was speaking again, chiding and pleading silently to a grip, “Just tell them, Miles say sorry and that he’ll come back to clean up… in like ten something minutes.” Maybe context would make the stranger accept the offer, but embarrassment began to creep in now that the tears left, the entire thing was stupidly childish. “I kinda made a mess with their clothes…and like, I need a minute before I go back. I don’t want them to hate me or label me a Karen type, god, I’ll cry if that happens.” Miles could feel another spiral coming on, and he made the wise decision to sit down again, “Would you mind doing that? I’ll…I’ll buy you another coffee.”

๑

For a moment, Maya pauses. She does what she can to access this situation but ultimately fails. On the inside, this startles her. Despite being a fool and a half, Maya usually had one steel intuition. Though, this time, she’s stumped. She stares into the face of this stranger, takes in their dark, attractive features and wonders if she’s hit her head or something. Perhaps she’s in a coma and has been for days and this was the miracle dream where God tests her limits and morals in order to decide whether she wakes up or not. But then this stranger speaks on their predicament. The messed up clothes, the need for an apology, and now Maya was just curious. She takes another generous sip of her drink and silently tries to hide the way it instantly burns her tongue and the roof of her mouth. A whimper is stifled within the back of her throat. 

With that, her brows furrow. She looks to him and then to the store. Inside the large window decorating the front, she can see a small mess toward the back near the dressing rooms. One clerk has taken to picking up some items while the other rings somebody up. A tall woman, obviously confident by the hideous shade of piss-yellow she was wearing. God, scratch the yellow dress. I’m gonna look like a fucking Twinkie, Maya thinks to herself.

“Okay, um,” The woman moves to straighten out her cardigan with one hand, now feeling stupid that she didn’t wear something a little more put together. “Sure, I can do that.” Take that, God. “Am I apologizing to everyone in there or did you really give it to one person in particular, maybe?” Maya asks, now just filling the air with words that were close to meaningless. Secretly, she was just a little anxious. That wasn’t his fault, not at all, Maya popped out of her mother biting her little fingernails nervously. “You don’t have to buy me another coffee. Mostly because this is a hot chocolate and I’m having one of those days where I don’t feel like sitting on the crapper because I decided to have a coffee, you know?”

Then, Maya goes to head inside, but something soon stops her. She turns to the stranger once again, “Can I ask why you did it? Mess up all the clothes, I mean. If you don’t mind me asking, of course...”

Believe it or not, Maya didn’t mean to fall asleep. She hated napping during the day, even though she found it hard to keep her eyes open when stressed out or upset. Today, she wakes up in a familiar bed, the smell of her boyfriend filling her nostrils once her eyes open. She blinks hard, feeling a sharp eye booger crusted at the corners of her eyes. Her mouth was dry too, she was probably drooling. One hand reaches up to rub at her tired face before looking around the room. Empty. But, then, a sound from the living room. Ardin. The covers are tossed from her body, Maya reaching for her pants that had somehow come off during her sleep duration. She slips them on, the warm fleece material of her sweatpants feeling nice around her bare, freshly-shaven legs. 

Maya makes her way to the kitchen first, getting herself a glass of water. “Hey,” She mumbles into the quiet air as she pads into the living room, circling around the couch and plopping down beside Ardin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I guess I was just feeling groggy.” Sad was the better word but Maya refrains from speaking upon that truth. She takes a sip from her water. “Did my sister call, by any chance?”

Malia was used to being pampered in a spa, but at home with Maya was just as nice. Maybe even more so because she was in the place that made her feel most comfortable. Nik had offered to take the twins off of her hands for the night. She knew they would have a good time with him and she trusted him with everything so it was a very easy decision. She smoothed some moisturizer on her face as she looked at Maya through the mirror as she spoke before smirking and chuckling softly. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about right now, Maya. Now if you start to grow a penis, then we’ll have some things to deal with.” she teased giving her a nudge. 

How are you doing was becoming a crazy question to answer. After the break up real Jack, the press around it, and the magazine article where she was mentioned, Malia wasn’t sure how to answer that question anymore. She gave Maya a half smile and shrugged. “I’m dealing with it. I’m getting through. I have to. I’m a mom. I can’t fall completely apart and scream and cry and lay in bed all day. My kids need me and I’ve been trying to focus on Tahlia and Tahj.” She saved her crying for when she was in bed at night after the twins were in a deep sleep in their rooms. That’s when she would wear one of Tommy’s shirts she retrieved from her storage room and put her earbuds in her ears and listen to Jack’s new song over and over again, covering her mouth as the tears fell slowly down the sides of her face. This whole breaking up thing was a very weird, sad, confusing experience that Malia was sure she did not enjoy. 

“You haven’t seen my office.” she teased. She had wanted to rip up pictures of him or burn them or ruin them in some way, but she never could bring herself to do it. She had even had her assistant get the recent magazine he was in just for that purpose, but all she had done was read the article and put it in her bottom drawer at work. Deleting pictures out of her phone was one thing, but actually physically tearing into Jack’s photographed face was something she didn’t think she could do. “Thanks, Maya. You’re being so great to me.” she smiled softly. “I will take all of the ice cream that my stomach can handle. I think I have some chocolate sauce in the fridge and cherries.” she grinned. “How have you been though? Everything good?”

๑

Going through a breakup, for Maya, was something foreign. Mostly because she was usually the one to do the dumping. Even so, Maya doesn’t think she’s ever been in a relationship long enough to endure the agony of separation. Though, she does try to relate to Malia’s situation, giving her an empathetic look as she speaks. In truth, she feels for her so deeply. It was obvious that she was into Jack, and the fact that he was a celebrity must feel even worse. He was everywhere. Even Maya couldn’t escape his newest song, blaring on the radio. 

“You’re a great person. And a great mom. I would’ve killed to have a mother like you growing up.” Maya says, still looking toward Malia. “But it’s also okay to feel down about the whole thing. You’re human, we all are. Jack is too even if you may hate him right now, which is totally justified.” In the moment, Maya thinks of how she might react to Ardin ending things with her. The thought makes her gut twist and a heavy feeling presses into her chest area. Again, she feels for Malia even more. The brunette turns, sitting on top of the counter. She reaches for a lotion she brought with her that smells like coconuts and the beach. Maya starts rubbing it along her legs. “Have they asked about him? The kids?”

Now she spreads lotion along her arms, focusing on her shoulders. The smell makes her instantly happy. “Oh God, what’s in your office? I hope you didn’t make a Jack Adler voodoo doll or something ‘cause that’s so unfair. I wanna be a part of the voodoo too, don’t leave me out.” Laughter sounds from Maya as she puts the little cap back onto her lotion. If Maya Wollman had anything, at least she was a good friend.

She shrugs, “Of course. What are friends for? And you know hating men is like, my favorite way to pass the times when need be.” The woman jokes, smiling wide, “I’m good. As good as I can be, anyway. I’m still fighting with my sister and my parents, so, that’s not ideal but whatever.” Another shrug, “Work’s been exhausting. I’ve been thinking about maybe getting a different job.”

For as long as Maya has been on the island, she’s never been to the local art gallery. In truth, Maya has never been able to connect to art. Her awe-struck when viewing was always half-assed, never entirely true. She hated pretending to be touched by something but knows she should display those emotions, anyway, especially around art. So, here she stood, glancing up at some painting that she simply could not decipher. Sure, it’s beautiful, but when she gets up close it’s all a bunch of blobs of pain and brush strokes. 

With a sigh, she moves on, padding down to the more abstract pieces in the gallery. There was one sculpture of an old boat, most likely made out of clay, that does in fact catch her eye. Her head cants to the side, taking in the piece. She questions what could possibly make it abstract when she notices there were a pair of headphones beside it, which were a part of the art, it seems. Go figure. Maya then picks them up, placing them over her head of wild curls, and listens. It’s whales, the sound of them moaning and whining as if they’ve been injured or something. Maya winces, her face scrunching up at the noise. 

“What the fuck,” She whispers to herself, brows furrowed. And then, someone she knows, standing just at her side. An old hook-up, for that matter. Holden. Maya jumps at the sight of him, mostly because she had begun to really zone out to the sound of whales moaning, “Ah!” She shrieks, “Shit, hi,” She says to the man, “Hi, sorry. Ha, fuck.” Maya stumbles around her words, taking the headphones off. Holden was not someone she ever saw outside of bed, truth be told, which does earn a wave of shame to wash over her. She also had a habit of ghosting after almost every hook-up. Maybe the whales were shunning her. “Uh, wow, long time no see.”

LOCATION   ›   luau larry’s. TIMESTAMP   ›   january 17th,  2021.   11:47 pm. NOTES   ›   closed starter for @mayawollman​.

is this the island life?   the easy way in which one takes inconvenience in stride?   there’s a duality within her that has her wonder.   mainland dolores  —  the one who would groan should someone suggest walking five blocks to a bar  —  might have smashed something when posed with her current predicament.   something ceramic and satisfying,  that’d be loud when it hit the floor.   and yet,  here she is:  happy to walk back to luau larry’s from her friend’s hotel.   though her feet may not thank her later,  it’s her skin that’s thanking her now,  relaxed to feel familiar air,  nightly and cold and bringing with it the smell of salt.   her arms are crossed as she nears the bar and she’s humming,  of all things  —  surprising even herself with the unbothered attitude she’d assumed.

or maybe she’s just drunk.   or,  to a lesser degree,  and at the very least,  still feeling the warm buzz she’d cultivated over a few margaritas and a few orders of buffalo wings.   remembering this brings a near-watering to her mouth,  the way being out late only could:  dolores had never been immune to late-night munchies.   she’s considering adding another basket to her tab as she reenters the fray,  taking a minute to nudge through the crowds to reach the actual bartop.   and though part of her silently curses her own forgetfulness  —  likely brought on by the aforementioned margaritas  —  and wishes she’d remembered to close out her tab before leaving,  there’s another,  louder part that’s glad not to be alone right then.   as if simply being near people,  and among them,  could be enough to stave off her recent bout of loneliness.

it’s only as she’s flagging down a bartender that she recognizes the voice:  it’s higher than others around them,  a bit pitchier considering,  and enough for dolores to look in its direction.   then,  upon placing it as belonging to some woman with a wild mess of curls that,  aside from the voice,  dolores immediately notices,  she watches the odd interaction unfold:  said woman skittering away as some guy,  sloppy and emboldened by liquor,  attempts to pull her in for a dance.   and,  for a moment,  dolores thinks nothing of it  —  until her eyes lock with the woman’s.

The delicate skin of Maya’s lips were torn to shreds, her nimble fingers picking at the area. Sometimes she’d taste blood by mistake while sipping on her beer, not realizing her bottom lip had begun to bleed. In one swift motion, she wipes it with the napkin soaking up the condensation from her drink. It burns a little, the droplets of alcohol rubbing against the subtle wound. A wince sounds from her, Maya’s head still low. Though she’s quick to bounce back, Maya Wollman an expert at hiding all types of pain, even subtle. 

You see, tonight was meant to be a good evening. Something decent, something quiet that would eventually lead in her going home and slipping into bed with only her underwear on and an old, smelly t-shirt she would most likely pluck from her hamper of unwashed clothes. But, no, there was always something. A man, usually. This time, it’s a middle-aged man with a round face. He’s tan but only in his face and his hands, the rest of him is a pale shade that turns red after another grand sip of liquor. He does a double take before setting his gaze upon Maya. She attempts to look away but he has other plans. Of course, he scoots on over, scanning Maya like she was an animal to be devoured. In some sick way, she did sometimes find pleasure in the idea that someone may find her desirable in moments like this, even with torn lip skin and a wild head of hair that’s yet to be washed after a day of work. 

Would you like to dance, sweetheart?

“No, I’m good, thank you.” Maya says, laughing again, now turning away.

Oh, come on, I’m a great dancer and you’re beautiful. Let’s make some magic.

With that, Maya laughs before turning completely, a roll of her eyes coming next. She scans the area, looking for a hero or an easy way out. And, then, she locks eyes with a woman. She’s gorgeous, slim, and has the kind of perfect cupid’s bow that made Maya want to become an artist just so she could spend her days drawing beautiful women. Bingo. “Excuse me,” Maya slips from the man’s grasp entirely, approaching the woman. When she’s close enough, she speaks in a hushed tone, “Please pretend you’re with me so this guy stops riding me ass. I’ll buy you a drink in return.”

HONESTY HOUR.

“Home, to me, has to be a place. I’m someone who needs a place to go or else I’ll be forever unhinged. I need a space, I need somewhere that brings me comfort in order to feel at ease with myself. Home can’t be a person or a certain feeling. I’ve spent my entire life searching for a home inside other people because we moved so much and I never truly had a space to call my own. So, home has to be a place. I need to come home to a room that’s my own. It makes me feel grounded and together. I can be anyone there, even someone I hate.” Maya shrugs, “Maybe this will change but I don’t know...”

HONESTY HOUR.

“Um,” Maya really thinks, but nothing ever comes. “I mean — uh, I don’t know. Of course I’ve had happy moments but, I think there will always be this little bubble of sadness inside me. Even when I’m happy. I do feel happiest when I’m with my boyfriend or my siblings, especially my sister even if she’s a bitch or whatever. Though, I’ve always had this strange feeling that even my happiness stems from an area of undying sadness in me, if that makes sense. In order to get to the happy, I have to feel sad about it first. It’s a vicious cycle.”

HONESTY HOUR.

“I wake up, do my thing, and then get to work. It’s a really slow, dull day so I don’t have to do much. I go home and take a nice shower. I obviously masturbate in the shower ‘cause, you know, that’s a given. Then I do my skincare and get into my pajamas, make myself a nice dinner with a can of Coke, and sit in my bed and watch shows and movies that I love. Then Ardin comes over and we stay up together and talk and also watch more movies and shows. That’s the best fucking day ever, man.”

HONESTY HOUR. 

“How about everything?” Maya jokes, “The world really sucks sometimes, there’s so much that bothers me, I don’t even know where I’d begin. Probably just general ignorance. Not having an open mind. Like, there are some assholes in the world that give way too many shits about what people do with their lives. Like, the innocent shit, you know what I mean? It’s just annoying. Let people do what they want. If they’re not being harmful to somebody else or a group of people, leave it be.”

STATUS: open with  @catalinastarter​​ (0 of 3) LOCATION: CATALINA ISLAND COUNTRY CLUB

The situation was laughable, at least, and that is the reason for the rare chuckle tumbling his lips as leans over the desk counter. Truthfully, him too, wouldn’t allow himself in — baggy shorts and a wet hoodie? It’s a surprise he is out in public — Another glimpses down at himself and he sighs, he was going to be late (he was late). “Alright, if I may use your phone, I’ll get someone to bring my identification and a suit, but please let Mr. Shaw know that Thomas Astor is here? and I promise you, I am Mr. Astor, the grandson.” He requests, and even if he was a bit frustrated, his voice remains calm. There was no one to blame but himself for waking up late and still think he could make it in time for this meeting, after a run. When Thomas realized how late he was, the only money left in his pocket was spent in the taxi drive up to the club, just in time to realize his phone and wallet were left in the hotel.

“Apparently there’s a first time for everything and now I’m not allowed in the club.” It was a playful commentary, throw at the person coming in. In truth, he knew he could request a manager or someone else to let him inside, but there would be not much use if he could not get also, a change of clothes and he did not want to give the receptionist a headache or sound more pompous. “Now, I have to call my mother to bring me pants.”

๑

By now, Maya has lost track of how long she had been sitting inside her car. She had her resume in hand, a pair of uncomfortable heels on her feet, and the most professional hairstyle she could conjure when you were someone like her who had a head of untamable curls. A bun. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you,” She says to the steering wheel, her voice deeper than usual. It was her professional voice, the one she used on the phone when making an appointment with her doctor. “Stupid fucking bitch.” The woman whispers to herself in disgusting before getting out, padding her way up to the front.

To be greeted by a man in a wet hoodie was, in fact, the last thing Maya was expecting today. Her brows arch upward in amusement, clutching her resume to her chest for a moment as she takes him in. In truth, she does appreciate his joking tone, at least. “Do you actually come to this club or is this your sly way of getting in and fooling everyone here?” Maya jokes back in return, looking to the front desk The receptionist shot a “one moment” signal towards Maya with her index finger and went around to the back. Maya takes to sitting down in one of the waiting area chairs at the side. Though, she lands a little too hard, right on her ass bone, and releases a quiet squeak as she does so. Not off to a great start, it seems.

“I have a pair of leggings and a t-shirt in my car,” She starts, clearing her throat after, “The, uh, the leggings might be kinda tight around your junk or whatever but it’s worth a shot. And the shirt does have Garfield on the front but I’m sure you could make it look professional.”