cursing out the moon ➵ a.b.

Chapter 18: And How Would You Like to Die, My Darling

Oh, pleasant and lovely reader, I could not possibly bore you with the events of the next two and a half weeks--a little over a fortnight. Let us just imagine this: kisses and caresses coming hand in hand. From Andy, I received gifts upon gifts, all expensive and luxurious. I did not ask for them, nor did I show any appeal to them, but he kept insisting he buy them for me, and I did not ever protest. I knew what he was doing: trying to hit that little sweet spot. He was going to pamper me; he was going to try and spoil me so I shall never leave. I don't believe that tactic was very sly, looking back on it. At the time, I fell right into his trap, but at the same time, my snare captured him back. It was like a never-ending game of cat and mouse, but the roles could change at any moment.

To continue further, Russy and June finally fixed up the abandoned bar they had bought and had started a booming business. Sure, it wasn't the greatest, but Russy told me that it would get better and better as time went on.

During this period, Russy's birthday passed, and it really was a sight. It was her 21st birthday, so the celebration had to he particularly special. The four of us girls went out and got drunk and gambled at a casino, not thinking anything straight. I remember it as something like a dream: impossible to feel and see once again. It was the one time that we had had fun together since moving in LA. It took weights off our shoulders and backs, and it felt so good.

My mother constantly asks me of Andy, and I adore her obsession. She wants me to Skype with him, and I let her have the benefit of a doubt that one day that event will occur.

Karliah soon introduced us to her new boyfriend: Oliver. Contrary to what you might believe, his complexion was not of an olive tone, nor were his eyes of any resemblance to his name. His hair did not serve any justice either. He was just Oliver, and there was no reason to it.

Cole--Russy's boyfriend--is a sweetheart. They work together in her bar, and it is an adorable sight to see. He loves her for her, and it is a pure type of love that makes even the coldest hearts brighten up.

And even June believes she is in love. She is flimsy with putting together words that describe her feelings, so she is having a hard time getting the woman to notice her. Yes, I said woman. My June Collingwood has fallen for a mistress. She tells me she works at a convenience store: cashier number 19. She spied her one day while doing errands. She goes there almost everyday just to look at her, and they are starting to take a liking to each other. Why was June tempted to approach this vessel of warmth even though she despises emotion and believes she is asexual? Well, she says her heart skipped a beat or two when she saw her, and it wasn't like anything she's ever felt before. She called it true love. Can you imagine--June believing in true love? Where's the real June!

The beautiful dames keep asking when my Prince Charming will appear to them in the flesh. I push it off, telling them he's been busy with the production of his album. Truth be told, I was lying; Andy finished about a week ago, and he was gloating about it to me constantly. To be truthful, I had absolutely no idea when Andy would decide what time would be best for his introduction to my friends. But that shall be answered this chapter of my story, reader, and now you may rest assured.

Sitting on my death bed, I remember the moments and bring them towards the light, separating the memories from the darkness that is my consciousness. If I am not mistaken, it was early August. August 7th, I believe. That was the day Andy and I finally made a perfect bond: we sealed our fate.

I am sitting in a bar stool, Russy looking down at me from her towering height. I have some liquor sitting in a small glass, but I stare at it instead of sip. "Everything seems to be weird."

Russy organizes her bar, being a great bartender and all. The shop was open, but business was slow since it was morning hours. She begins to wipe the bar down with a towel, saying, "How?"