Ryan POV
After a show. Sweating. Meet and greet. Getting ready to go to bed. I sleep for one hour. I just throw on a hoodie over my pajamas and sneak out of the bus, via window. Before I do that, I realized Jon wasn't in his bed. The cool air was just right, the moon was full. Halloween was almost here.
Shit, how could I find Vivi? Whatver, just keep on walking. Wow, I was stupid. I could call her. No, better text her.
Meet me @ Vineyard.
She might get it. She might not.
Ten minutes later, I was at The Vineyard. Vivian wasn't there.
I stood there, waiting. After half an hour, I gave up. I went for a stroll. I peeked into a few strip clubs. Skin and sex appeal could not captivate all of my attention. Neon lights glowed the way to somewhere.
A chick in jeans and a lime green hoodie eyed me. "Hello, sexy Paul look-alike." Her face, with all of its piercings, would cause a panic attack with airport security. Her hair had several hot pink and purple streaks. Her eyeliner was smudged, but there might have been an intricate design. "I can't seem to find my way home tonight. Could you escort me? I need a buddy to talk to."
Perhaps not a wise choice, but I did walk with her. She was extremely chatty. "So, Paul McCartney, ya better be a Beatles fan. Holy shit, are you Ryan Ross?"
"Don't spread the word."
"Vows don't mean a thing 'round here, as ya know. Since its a request, I guess I have to do your bidding."
I smiled. "A slave. Awesome."
"I would not go that far. Lacey-that's me, by the way-can be known to kick nuts hard."
"I've got china on me, Lacey. I can't have them shattered."
Lacey laughed. "Nobody seems to know my name. Anybody walks away from me and calls me a weirdo. Or if they have seen my bad side, a bitch. Still, I am a sweet little girl sometimes."
I fell in love with Lacey. Her personality was so magnetic. How could anybody forget her name? "Sweet little girl? Do you have any bubblegum?"
"Bubblegum? What da fuck do you mean? Chewing wads of pink shit encased in my saliva over and over does not appeal to me. I smoke cigarettes, crack, and coke." She out a hand in her pocket and carefully pulled out a tin. "Wanna smoke da crack? I know a place where we can't get caught. My house."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty. C'mon, I ain't a whore."
I came with her as she led me to a parking lot of a bar. Her car was an old Buick. "The car's a granny and pieces of crap metal, but it still runs. When it doesn't break down."
Lacey turned out to be a terrible driver. I thought we were going to wreck. She went way over the speed, her car ended up half-way on the sidewalk, she was not afraid to cut in front of cars, and she almost ran into a running deer. I was lucky I got out of that car without a scar. Her house was not much, a bit shabby and could use some work on the exterior. Better than the afterlife or total darkness.
"Before we get high, let's see if Chef and Viv are screwing around."
"Chef? Viv?"
"Chef is a chef. Viv is a waitress. Together in a bedroom, they may commit fuckery. Both work at The Vineyard."
First impressions can never be trusted. I thought Chef was more... I don't know. Wise and wholesome? Then again, with Vivi, anything is possible. "I know who you're talking about. Where do they live?"
"'Cross street." Lacey took my hand and guided me to Chef's place. She took something from an inside pocket on her hoodie. Not only did she keep crack on her, she carried a small telescope. "Let's see... New people! Chef's baking der Mrs. B into a Cajun apple pie. Well... Vivi is sexing up... I don't think I know for sure."
"What does that mean?" I would like his/her place with Vivi.
"Um... take a look."
