Post by Roxy Cotton on Dec 10, 2018 14:23:08 GMT -5
PART ONE - DRESS REHEARSAL
Tuesday morning, September 12th, 2017
Manhattan. Roxy Cotton stands in a purple satin bathrobe, bathed in morning sunlight from her East-facing window. She’d flown in late the previous night after spending one extra day in Colorado following her latest victory in LAW. Now, the hungry growls of a bustling metropolis beckon to her from several stories below, as she flips through message after message received overnight on her phone.
DID U SEE THE SCHEDULE?
Sure, Ashley Williams was capable. She was a little bit unknown in LAW though, not having much of a sample size to review. The same could be said with Angie Vaughn, though Vaughn was on a HUGE upswing coming out of LAW #68, having pinned the Chaos Champion, Sam Tolson, in a tag team match along with Ash.
WE GOT THE ANGELS AND SMJ! U EXCITED?
OF COURSE BB
BABE ARE YOU AWAKE?
I’M SO EXCITED TO TEAM WITH U!
“I’m sure you are, Angie… I’d prefer someone a little more experienced, but, like, whatever.”
ME TOO!!! I CAN’T STOP SMILING!!!
The grind was getting to her. Winning was a great medicine for the sickness of hard work and sacrifice, if proved she was capable, but the afterglow was fleeting and grew smaller after each meaningless match. Minako Ai was a worthless debut. Abby Addiction was a statement, sure, but even two short days later the high was nearly gone. It was like the ebb and flow of an opiate changing your brain chemistry. Winning was its own drug, and winning over bottom feeders and curtain jerkers wasn’t going to sate her appetite for much longer. Not even the joy Roxy got from ruffling feathers on social media was fulfilling her for any longer than the few seconds it took her to remind her haters of her unrelenting presence.
LAW #69 was going to be a step in the right direction. Two extremely worthy challengers, along with Stacy Jones. Something of a handicap in two lowly-regarded partners of her own. But that was the thrill of it, wasn’t it? Climbing the mountain they told her she couldn’t climb. Planting a flag in its summit, and then looking up to the next peak. Yesterday was Abby. Today was the Boardwalk Angels and the alleged “Unbreakable” one. Tomorrow? Hopefully her original goal in joining the ranks of LAW to begin with – silencing the trap of the hollow Chaos Champion, Sam Tolson.
But first, she needed a brush with society. A Barbie in a box is beautiful, but useless if it’s kept on a back shelf for no one to see. Roxy needed to turn some heads, and she needed to have a squad to go along for the ride.
Roxy turns and heads back to the end table where her phone rests next to a pack of cigarettes as well as her vape, which she picks up thoughtfully but returns to its spot almost immediately in exchange for the cigarettes. Some yearnings needed the real thing. Her cell sits silently next to a “no smoking” placard until she’s finished lighting up the butt, at which point she drops the fancy embossed lighter back into the Chanel clutch she’d retrieved it from and grabs the phone, swiping to her texts once more.
ARE U IN NYC?
YES! ME AND ASH ARE HERE FOR THE RUNWAY SHOWS!
MEET ME LATER TONIGHT. LET’S HIT THE TOWN AND #SLAY.
She knew she’d feel better after a balanced breakfast.
PART TWO - LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION
One Hour Later
“Well, well, well…”
Roxy sips her third? Fourth? Screwdriver of the day and looks into the webcam of her laptop, grinning.
“It seems like another LAW show is in the books, and it was a historic one to boot. Why, you ask? Well, sugar, how about that clean sweep myself and the rest of the #CoolKids put together? Isn’t that something? You’d think from all the online hate from the rest of the Twitterverse, all the wannabes that can’t sit with us, that they’d step up and prove that we were some sort of flash in the pan or flavor of the week… but instead what keeps happening is exactly what we say. We keep winning. Just like every other aspect of my life, I turn heads in the ring. I make headlines. I sell tickets. The #CoolKids are topping the charts everywhere we go, whether its merchandise sales in whatever wrestling company we choose to appear in, especially in LAW, or even outside of wrestling like the LFL, where my Hit Girls jersey is sitting on backorder and tripling in value within a week of its release. Ken’s CircleTV fame is ridic, blowing up bigger and faster every single day. Sarah just ventured into the designing world as well, releasing the Firestarter Brand, which is almost certain to bankrupt that Renati nonsense. Long story short, the #CoolKids are taking the world by storm, and the ride has just begun.
The first step towards total LAW domination, where every title in the company ends up around a #CoolKid waist, was at Queen of the Ring. My grand entrance. I embarrassed Minako Ai, made her squeal in submission without barely breaking a sweat. My friends Sarah and Kenzi both nearly walked away as Queen, with Sarah locking in a future title shot as the runner up. Milisandre dominated her four way match and certainly put herself into title consideration as well, and she has her eyes firmly set on the Breakout Title currently being hoarded for the past six months by someone named Etsuko, who can’t even be bothered to show up to work. Honestly, LAW? This upcoming show in Kansas City is the first match your “breakout” champion has had since when? June? She wasn’t anywhere on your major PPV event, and why do you think that is? Oh, gee, I don’t know, maybe because she’s useless and wouldn’t earn your company the cost of the ink to print her name? Precisely. Need proof? Just look back three months and watch her pathetic ring work… she lost. And he’ll lose again in this “Champion’s Challenge,” which is nothing more than a chance for the pampered and protected LAW champions to pat each other on the back in a pointless, non-title, non-consequential, non-main event. Who gets an opportunity when every champion on the roster is busy putting each other over in a show pony display of unchanging status quo? Who wins? Not your fans. Not your roster. Not your business.
The quicker LAW comes to its senses and gives the #CoolKids the opportunities they’ve clearly earned, the better for everyone. You’ll see champions defending their titles and generating revenue. You’ll see champions promoting the company. You’ll see CREDIBILITY in the LAW title picture for the first time in ages. Get rid of the shit show you have holding your World Title, and get it on Kenzi or Sarah ASAP. Get Crystal Millar and Etsuko back on the bottom of the card where they were born to live. The ball’s already rolling, baby, just hurry it along.
The rest? Well, that’s happening sooner than later whether or not the powers that be in LAW want it to. I triggered Sam Tolson so hard that she’s going to finally put her championship on the line against me. She played right into my hands, losing her cool and getting shook enough to abandon her usual tactic of dragging things along. Congratulations, Sam, you got played. And in Kansas City I’ll be there to help Angie and Ashley earn themselves a tag team title shot when we put down the Angels and their inadequate, totally breakable, cheerleader. It’s a new dawn of a new day, just like we tried to tell you.”
Roxy takes another sip of her drink, draining half the remaining liquid from her glass. She takes a moment to compose herself, closing her eyes and pressing her hand against her chest, before coming back full force once more, with her radiant smile illuminating the room.
“And how are we going to go about it, you must be asking? Simple. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, baby. Who’s going to stop us? Stacy Jones? Are you fucking joking? Stacy Jones, the allegedly “unbreakable” one, took all of about thirty seconds to shatter like every mirror she’s ever looked into when I put her feet to the tiniest of flames. I didn’t even have to say anything directly TO her to get her triggered! Oh, poor widdle unbweakable Stacy… she couldn’t hang once I picked a fight with her friend Zoey and made her cry. At least Zoey herself had the guts to get in my face the first time I visited a LAW event. Stacy and I have been in the same arena twice now… where was she when she had the chance to make me pay for hurting her precious little feels? Did she confront me backstage? Did she challenge me in the ring? No. Not at all. In fact, she was nowhere to be fucking found, other than out in front of thousands of people losing. Wannabe bitches like Stacy run their mouths from behind the safety of a block button, and thy go on and on about how I haven’t proven myself or earned anything… well baby, by my count, in the last month of LAW events you’re 0-2 whereas I’m 2-0. I walked in the door on a whim with a singular focus of shutting one particular mouth… and I’ve already outclassed you by accident.
Face it, Stacy… you couldn’t beat me in anything. You’re afraid of me. You’re triggered by me. You try to make it seem like you’re standing up for your friends by distancing yourself from me, but all you’re really doing is ducking and covering so I don’t get you shook every single day of your life. What makes you think you can look me in the eye and take me down in the ring when you can’t even handle me running you into the ground online? What makes you think you can win against the hottest of the #CoolKids when you already couldn’t handle Sarah or Mil? What gives you the RIGHT to even step in the ring with me, other than the fact that the Angels need someone to keep the apron warm for them? Because make no mistake, Stacy, Zoey and Farrah didn’t reach the success they’ve had by making retarded decisions like ‘tagging Stacy in.’ Who knows? Maybe they’ll let you hold their gear. Better yet, maybe Zoey would do a little bit of her bogus hocus pocus and make your daddy reappear into your life? Then again, he’d probably just walk right back out after seeing his daughter get embarrassed for the third straight event. No one loves a loser, Stacy.
There’s only one thing I really want from you, Stacy Jones, after the dust settles. Since it is almost guaranteed that it will be you taking the fall, and equally guaranteed that it will be me administering it. I want... no. No, that’s not right, I don’t just want. I DEMAND that you go online after I humiliate you, and you tell EVERYONE that you aren’t ‘unbreakable.’ You tell every one of your followers that you got out-punched, out-worked, out-styled, and out-CLASSED in the middle of the LAW ring by the Breaker of the Unbreakable, Roxy Cotton. And you better make sure you fucking ‘at’ me when you do it too, because I want to see every heartbreaking second of you while you crumble and let down everyone who ever believed in you. Again. Then? Go ahead and delete your account, baby, no one will even notice, and you’ll have time to go home and shit out some more ugly children. Next.”
Roxy finishes her glass. Her lips glisten as the vodka and orange juice disappears into her mouth, and she drops the empty drinking glass heavily onto the table where she sits. With a smirk and the slightest wobble to her posture, the bombshell continues.
“Now… I’d much rather talk about one of the only shining stars of the entire LAW roster. The reigning tag tam champions and the first worthy challengers I’ve had the pleasure of overcoming thus far in my LAW career. Zoey and Farrah… you girls have had a hell of a run, haven’t you? You rarely have ever felt the sting of defeat or had to swallow your pride since debuting back in January. You’ve beaten almost everyone, even my good friend Kenzi. She was a thorn in your side for quite some time, but you overcame it, didn’t you? You’ve had what most would probably consider a fairy tale… especially you, Zoey, am I right? I mean, you even got to live out your big lesbian fantasy by marrying the woman you took your titles from.
Except… how happy of a union are you really enjoying? It seems to me, from what I’ve known of Katalina, the ‘Naughty Girl,’ that she has a lot more in common with me than she does with you. She seems bold and sensual, unafraid to embrace the sexuality he was born with and manipulate it to the fullest. She knows that sex sells. She knows that the best way to keep them all thirsty is to give them a little sip from time to time. Why does she even waste her time with you? Just to stay near the gold she couldn’t hang onto?
Face it Zoey… you’re a fraud. Sure, you have skill in a wrestling ring. But literally everything else about you is a sham. You’re the girl who started wearing deep eyeliner and dyed her hair black in high school to seem edgy. I mean… you tell people you’ve got magical powers, that you’re some sort of dark sorceress, but you live in fucking Indiana. You and your partner walk to the ring to fucking country music. Wow, that’s spooky! Nothing makes me think ‘oh, there’s a witch’ like a pair of basic girls in cowboy boots with their roots showing, line dancing like middle aged single moms with a pitcher of Bud Lite in each hand. The only thing sadder than being basic is being basic and pretending you’re not.
It’s really sad, honestly. Yes, Zoey and Farrah are good in the ring. But who even notices that when they’re running around like a couple of goth kids pretending its Halloween? Does it matter that the Angels win when the only thing anyone knows them for is being the second coming of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark? No. It doesn’t matter. I said the same thing to Abby last week… at the end of the day, the one who comes out of our match being remembered forever is moi. I’m the reason the ratings have gone up, after all. I’m the reason LAW can afford the bonuses ALL of you have been getting lately. You should be thanking me, instead of dragging me behind my back at every opportunity. But will you? No, of course not. Because basics gotta basic.
You know, all I ever hear about is how I don’t really commit myself to wrestling. How I haven’t proven myself. How I’m nothing in this business, and all I do is run my mouth… well guess what, Angels? I do my homework. I’ve scouted you. I’ve watched your matches. I’ve seen your moves. I’ve seen Zoey’s Trap Chamber and her Sparkle Bomb, and I know how to see them coming. I’ve seen your double team moves… Love Hurts, Breaking Up, Over You… hmmm, sensing a theme here? Someone’s got more breakup issues than a Taylor Swift album. Regardless, the point is I’m not just some nobody running her mouth. I’ve proven that already in LAW and I’ll prove it again in Kansas City when me and my #CoolKids – in the REAL main event of the night – shock the status quo by knocking off the dominant tag champs and their little lap dog.
What really pisses me off about the so-called Boardwalk Angels is that they have all the talent in the world, all the attitude in the world, but they play the victim and the good girls out in public. Behind closed doors these bitches talk just as much shit as I do, maybe even more, but they get treated like they’re this shining example of grace and dignity… why? Let me tell you exactly why: stole fucking valor. Yes, you heard me, and yes, I am absolutely talking about Zoey’s dead brother Drake. Zoey, do you think you’re the first girl to ever lose a brother or someone else close to them due to the atrocities of war? Do you think your brother got his decapitated head pissed into by a bunch of terrorists in Afghanistan just so you could use it as a method of furthering your wrestling career? You should be ashamed of yourself, the way you bring it up and advertise it like his death gives you some inherent right to success. You’re a joke and a false flag, and you’re a disgrace to your own brother’s memory. A real military hero would never use the death of a soldier to bolster his own credibility, and it’s disgusting to watch you do it day after day.
Angels… I don’t need a boardwalk. I have a catwalk. And that catwalk is LAW, which serves the purpose of me walking up and down and soaking in all the bright lights and big time dollars deserved by a true celebrity such as myself. I don’t need to pump myself up as something I’m not, present an image of being something different than I am. I am exactly what you see before you, I am exactly what I say I am online, I stand by every word I’ve ever said. It’s amazing to me that I can have 500 cc’s of saline in my chest, botox in my face, bleached blonde hair, spray tans and six inch stilettos, and still be twice as real as you. You think your style is boardwalk? I think it’s sidewalk trash.
And Sam Tolson… you better get a front row seat to this match. You’re going down next.
Ta ta for now, cunts.”
Roxy reaches forward and grabs the top of her laptop, folding the screen down and blacking out the scene.
PART THREE - CURTAIN CALL
Later That Evening
Ash Williams, Angelica Vaughn, and Roxy Cotton are on a dance floor inside of a bustling nightclub. Roxy and Ash find random men to grind on, miraculously never spilling a drop of their drinks, while Angie hangs back a little and sheepishly turns down any offer from any of the sexy men who approach her.
“Come on, bitch! Get out here!”
A slurring Roxy shouts to her friend and teammate, woooooooo-ing in perfect white girl fashion as she continues to rub her ass against the crotch of a muscular latino.
Angie shakes her head and blushes, turning back and walking toward the bar for another drink.
“What’ll it be? Another appletini?”
The bartender asks her, drying off a glass and placing it under the ledge of the bar.
“Yes please.”
“That your friend out there? She seems like a wild one.”
He mixes the drink together deftly, pouring the shining green liquid into a tumbler and sliding it over to Vaughn in one slick motion.
“Oh you have no idea.”
“I’ve seen her type in here before. Just be careful.”
The bartender’s eyes are kind, but Angie’s eyebrows furrow at the implied sleight to her fiend.
“Hey! Roxy is a good friend to me! She’s really helped me in my life lately, and we’re friends and teammates forever! Don’t talk bad about her!”
“Okay, okay… I wasn’t trying to insult your friend, I’m just… look. I’m sorry. I -”
“HEYYYYYY BIIIIIIITCH! What the fuck are you doing?”
A clearly inebriated Roxy Cotton half-stumbles up behind Angie and wraps an arm around her shoulders, burying her face into Vaughn’s neck in a strange kiss.
“Get back out on the floor with Ash and me, cunt!”
“I needed another drink!”
“Oooo, me too…”
Roxy says into her glass as she finishes the drink in her hand. She plops the tumbler down on the bar and looks at the skeptical bartender.
“What are you looking at, asshole? People pay good money to stare at me that way.”
“I’m not-”
“Whatever! Get me another Long Island!”
“Roxy! Don’t be rude! Say please.”
Roxy glares at Angie, but Angie’s adorable and plaintive expression could probably melt an Antarctic iceberg faster than the hole in the ozone layer.
“Fine. Fucking PLEASE get me a Long Island.”
“Coming right up, miss.”
“Good… Angie are you still drinking apple martinis? Come on girl, that shit’s weaksauce.”
“I like them Roxy, they taste good!”
“I like them Roxy they taste good!”
Roxy mimics Angie with a baby-talk voice, but she smiles when Angie starts to pout.
“Relax Angie, I’m just playing with you! I just want you to loosen up, have a little fun! We’e here to party remember? To let loose a little? We had a great week, it’s time to unwind!”
“I know, but… Roxy it’s a Tuesday! Well, Wednesday morning now… isn’t it a little irresponsible to get so drunk in the middle of the week? We’re athletes! Ash says…”
“Oh fuck what Ash says!”
“What’s that?”
Ashley Williams appears on the other side of Roxy, eyebrows raised and placing her own empty glass on the bar. Roxy’s eyes roll back in her head as she turns to meet her glare.
“Hi Ash. Done dancing already?”
“Guy got a little grabby. I’m fine with dancing but I’m not some kind of slut.”
“You sure?”
Roxy winks at Ashley, giving her a knowing smile. Ashley immediately scowls.
“Roxy, god damn it…”
Roxy doesn’t let her finish though, turning back to Angie, who’s happily sipping on her appletini.
“Angie! We’re going to do some shots!”
“Roxy, I don’t know…”
“Rox, it’s getting late…”
Roxy continues to ignore Ash as well as the protests from Angie, waving her hand over the bar and tinkling the bangle bracelets on her wrist for attention.
“Hey! HEY! We need three shots of Patron!”
Ash and Ange exchange a tense look, but the bartender produces three shot glasses and fills them equally with the clear tequila. When he pushes them towards the girls, Ashley pipes up.
“Actually, I’d much rather have Jack. Single barrel rye.”
“O-M-G, just give me hers then, get her the gross whisky.”
“Sure thing…”
The bartender gives Angie one of the Patron shots, and Roxy takes the other two. As Ash waits for hers to get poured, Roxy holds one of her tiny glasses up and hands Angie hers as well, gesturing for a toast.
“To Angie coming out in New York City and SLAYing like a real #CoolKid!”
“Cheers…”
Angie slowly brings her shot glass to her lips, squeezing her eyes shut and gradually sipping the shot away. Roxy finishes her first in half a second, and has her second downed before Angie finishes half of hers.
“Come ON! Angie! Slam it!”
“Okay Roxy, that’s enough. Leave Angie alone, she’s doing her best.”
“She’s not doing her fucking BEST, Ashley! She’s doing the best YOU let her do. You need to loosen her collar for once, bitch! Let her really enjoy her life instead of always taking things so seriously and working herself away down to nothing. Look how hot she is! She should be out working it, dropping it low, popping her 'P,' just having a good fucking time! If you had your way she’d be in bed every night by seven!”
“That’s not true Roxy! I just want her to be safe…”
They are then interrupted by the sound of Angie coughing and choking, the last drops of her Patron shot dripping off of her lower lip.
“ACK! Ugh, Roxy, I’m sorry… it’s so stong…”
Ashley quickly rushes over to Angie’s side and pulls a tissue from her purse, dabbing it on Angie’s chin and cleaning off the little bit of spilled alcohol from her face.
“It’s okay Angie, you’ve had enough…”
“Oh my GOD Ashley! You’re like five seconds away from holding that tissue up to her nose and telling her to blow! She’s a grown up! Stop treating her like a little kid!”
If looks could kill, the one Ash shoots Roxy at that moment could have probably been considered first degree homicide. Williams calmly walks back around the bombshell and drains her own shot glass, pausing to calm herself down a little, then turns back to the other two.
“Angie… can I talk to you in private for a sec? Just for a sec okay? Come here…”
Ash walks off toward a slightly quieter corner of the room, and Angie shrugs to Roxy and then follows her over. Roxy watches the two of them talking but can’t hear their voices over the din of EDM pumping through the club’s PA speakers.
With a shake of her head she takes a long sip of her Long Island, then looks down and sees the half full glass of appletini sitting on a neatly folded napkin next to her. With a surreptitious side eye to ensure Ash and Ange are still busy talking, Roxy reaches into her clutch and pulls out a small piece of wrapped up plastic. Unraveling the cellophane wrapper, Rox drops a small tablet into the appletini and swishes it around with a stirrer until it completely dissolves.
A few moments later when Angie an Ash walk back over to Roxy, they catch her just as she finishes her Long Island and has her cell out held high over her head, posing with her lips pouted and taking pics of herself sucking the last few sips of her drink through the straw.
“Water please.”
Ash asks the bartender as she walks up.
“We’re going to go.”
She tells Rox matter of factly as Angie picks up her drink to finish it off.
“What the fuck for?”
“BECAUSE Roxy! It’s late at night, tomorrow is only Wednesday. Angie and I have things to do, this isn’t her lifestyle!”
“You mean it isn’t the lifestyle you want for her.”
“No, it isn’t the lifestyle she wants for herself! You need to stop taking advantage of her! She’s young and naïve, she can’t handle this!”
“How the fuck would you know what she can handle, Ashley? Hmm? How do either of you know what she can and can’t handle when you’ve had her sheltered for her entire career? You’ve never let her be herself, you’ve sat on her shoulder and mother henned her since the day you met her! The truth of the matter, Ashley, is that just because YOU couldn’t handle some of the things that have happened in YOUR life doesn’t mean that Angie can’t, or that she shouldn’t be allowed the freedom to find out for herself!”
Ashley, fuming, takes a deep breath and struggles to keep her tone steady. The relationship between the two women was fragile already, and any more tension could sink it completely.
“Roxy… this is not about me. It’s not about my life, it’s not about you and me… this is about Angela! You don’t give a damn about her! You took her to a fucking brothel!”
“AND SHE HAD A GREAT TIME! You’re proving my point for me Ash! Angie did great out there in Nevada, and she followed it up with possibly the biggest win of her career! Was she winning before she went out with me?”
“That’s not fair…”
“Oh isn’t it? You’re using Angie to succeed in ways that you haven’t been able to, and you regret all the things that you’ve done in your life that have prevented your own success! So you think smothering her and keeping her in some sort of safe space and wrapped in plastic will get her where she needs to be, and you can live vicariously through helping her get there… but you’re DROWNING her in your overprotective bullshit! She’s a ball of nerves everywhere we go and every time we talk to each other because she’s worried you won’t approve or you’ll be disappointed in her in some way! YOU are hurting her Ash! I’m just trying to get her to find out who she really is!”
A long silence hangs between the two women as Ashley seethes. Without a word then, she takes the glass of water from the bar and throws it in Roxy’s face, splashing the ice cold liquid all over the bombshell’s tight purple dress and splattering it into her hair.
“Fuck you, Roxy. I’m getting us a cab.”
Ashley stomps away as Roxy gasps open-mouthed at the bar, her hands shaking in rage. After a second to gather herself, Rox walks toward the ladies’ room and enters it, turning the air dryer upside down to dry some of the water from her hair and her dress. She pulls a few paper towels out from a dispenser and pats her neck and chest dry and then, after getting her dress as dry as it was going to get from the weak machine blowing on her, she checks herself in the mirror. The rage and indignity has her face twisted into a hateful visage of anger.
Roxy takes a deep breath and quietly counts backward from ten, then closes her eyes for a long few seconds and opens them again, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. The façade fully back in place, she exits the restroom.
“Oh my god…”
On the dance floor, Angie Vaughn is a disaster. Having pulled the spaghetti straps of her dress down completely and exposing her bra already, she dances provocatively between two young men, both of whom keep looking at each other and nodding, knowing that they’ve gotten a score.
Angie keeps dancing on them, lifting her skirt around her hips and even beginning to drop the straps of her bra off of her shoulders.
“It’s so hot in here isn’t it!?”
Angie keeps giggling and dancing, sweating profusely in the heat of the floor and between the hard bodies of the two men. Her eyes are completely dilated as she stares up into the throbbing strobe lights. Eventually, one of the two men pushes her up against the wall while his friend stands between them and the bar for cover. The man leans into Angie and reaches under her skirt, tugging at her panties.
“Yes please help me get them off! It’s SO warm here!”
Angie says in a weak and distant voice. The man starts to unbuckle his belt. But then…
THUNK!
Roxy stands over the man as he falls unconscious to the floor, a huge lump already forming on the back of his head. In her hand, Roxy holds her clutch bag, but sticking out of it is a thick piece of metal pipe. The man’s friend panics and drops to his knees trying to get his friend to wake up and calls for help, and Roxy sees Ashley just a few feet away, having been heading over to intervene herself.
Both of them having the same instinct, to protect Angie in her moment of weakness and need, Ash and Roxy share a look at one another that reminded them both that, regardless of their different approaches, their intentions were always the same.
Then, Angelica vomits all over the unconscious man’s head.
“I… don’t really feel too good, guys.”
“We need to go.”
Roxy grabs Angie’s wrist and leads her toward the door while Ashley tries to clean her up a little, straightening her dress and wiping her mouth with a tissue.
“On it. Cab’s outside. Come on.”
“Ugh, fuck Ashley… why don’t you ever use Uber?”
~END~
