#fr.starter

“For the last time you can’t return something you’ve already eaten.” Juliette tells the middle aged woman in a dry tone. Morning shifts also happened to draw in the more entitled patrons to the Rose diner it seemed as she continued to complain, telling the girl to “watch her tone” because she has an “influential mommy blog”. Whatever that meant. “I don’t care.” She snaps.  Her customer service skills weren’t known for being, well, good. It was honestly a miracle she held on to her waitressing job for as long as she has. “My manager is going to tell you the exact same thing I just did. So I could listen to you talk more or I could stab myself in the face with that fork and honestly the latter sounds more appealing. Ma’am.” Her eyes roll back as she finishes her sentence with a forced smile. 

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.”

Sonata had rarely stepped foot in Allied, choosing to consume their music from other outlets, and Allied wasn’t exactly the kind of place where The Phantom of the Opera was being performed in full, nor Giacomo Puccini’s La bohème. They stood, posture straight, and always a bit uncomfortable (location rarely mattered for that). Looking around for Julius, who was not only the reason they were dragged here tonight but the reason they were dragged most places, and though Sonata was thankful for him it didn’t stop them from being a bit of a brat about it. “Do you know who’s playing tonight?” they asked, only half curious, before placing their fingers on the bar top and strumming them to the song in the background, looking hesitantly behind the bartender. “Sauvignon Blanc, please.” they smiled disarmingly, because if they were going to spend the night listening to underground punk music, they might as well do it in style. 

It was late when he stepped outside of Allied. The door creaked shut, muting the bar’s loud music and 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. Now that 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), Julius was planning to smoke a cigarette and scroll through his phone, playing a speedy game of contact 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 together. 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, who was busy 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 just give away. When the open carton was held out, 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’, sticking it between his lips and ignoring the lighter that was also extended. He fished instead for his own— and after sparking the plastic Bic, kept the flame wavering till the cigarette caught and then dragged deep, welcoming the familiar burn into his lungs. The wind took the smoke away from his mouth in a thin stream. Besides him, the person was still waiting. Julius looked at them without fully turning his face, rebuffing the expectant gaze with a single, arched eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t have a dollar. Sorry. Used all my small bills on tips.”

Eden enjoyed visiting Viewz often, she unironically liked the cauliflower popcorn and the pretentious indie movies that played there. While it may have been predictable for an actress, it was also a good way to sniff out up and coming directors she’d be interested in working with. She wanted to indulge herself after a long day of being covered in glitter and taking photos with fans. Her parents raised her on John Waters films so it wasn’t like she didn’t have an appreciation for queer cinema. Representation mattered and all of that— “Ugh. Blue is the Warmest Color? If I wanted to see a silicone vagina and mediocre French acting I’d go to one of the three sex shops down the street. Not cute.” 

After losing Theo to a group of guys back at Allied, Alexa thought about what she could do now that she was left to her own devices. She’d been day drinking since the morning and she was starting to sober up. Wanting to conserve her energy for later that night she entertains herself with the idea of working on her tattoo skills until eventually she figured why not. She found a spot on a stoop close enough to the parade for there to be a crowd but far away enough that there wouldn’t be any distractions. She takes out her supplies— gloves, sanitary wipes, ink, and her needles. It was all clean enough. “Hey! Hey. It’s me, your friendly neighborhood punk girl. You know that means you can trust me to give you some ink and besides if you say no I’m pretty sure that makes you homophobic.”

Date: June 28th, afternoon Location: Somewhere in Crown Heights, at the Brooklyn Pride Parade

location: the flower van date: june 29th