Barely Legal (Julian Casablancas)

||53:bad idea||

Janelle agreed to meet Tiffany at 'the Chelsea Hotel,' following the show Albert invited the girls to. It was only 10 minutes away from Madison Square Garden where they had played.

It was also less likely that Julian would be there—which was the only reason Janelle agreed to go.

She didn't want to seem unfriendly toward Albert; she genuinely cared for him. She didn't want to let her disdain of Julian get in the way of a proper reunion with her old friend.

Janelle felt bad for skipping the show, but deep down, she knew that Albert understood her reasons.

If only Janelle would've known the conspiracy taken place behind her back formed by Albert and Tiffany—she simply would've stayed home to finish unpacking.

"What time is it? He's supposed to be here by eleven, isn't he?" Tiffany spoke anxiously, standing against the wall at the entrance of the lobby of the venue, watching closely out the windows of the double doors.

"He's never on time. He probably won't be here til thirty minutes after." Albert said, trying to refrain from appearing just as anxious.

The truth was, Albert was probably more nervous than Tiffany was about the plan.

Julian was much more difficult to live with than Janelle, he was sure. He didn't like the idea of having to go home with Julian if the plan backfired.

"Oh my god I'm so fucking nervous—what if they show up at the same time?" Tiffany shook, tapping her foot against the floor.

"Call her—see where she's at."

"Just call Jules—ask him what's taking so long-"

"Jules doesn't have a phone, he uses mine."

Tiffany sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "This was a bad idea wasn't it? I mean... we live with these people. If this goes sideways-"

"We're in a hotel. We'll just stay here tonight." He smiled seductively, causing Tiffany to do the same.

She smacked his arm with a bashful grin—her eyes suddenly widening when catching a glimpse of a taxi pull up in front of the hotel.

"Is that him?" Tiffany asked, her guts churning with dread.

"I think that's her." Albert stalled at the sight of Janelle climbing out of the cab.

Her dark hair was pulled back in a precise yet, messy bun. Her fringe tapered down, framing her soft, feminine face.

She was sun-kissed now, her toned thighs glowing in her denim skirt and two inch stiletto strap heels. She wore a thin white shirt—one you could see her bra through with a familiar double breasted trench coat.

"Act normal, you're staring too hard." Tiffany smacked Albert's arm again, causing the cigarette to nearly fall out of his mouth.

"Jules is gonna lose his shit. He couldn't talk to her if he wanted to with her lookin' like that—this was a bad idea."

"Too late now- it's too late now, act normal. For fucks sake Al, act casual." Tiffany's voice faded into a whisper as they both stood staring at Janelle while she approached the double doors.

"Hey... what are you guys doing just standing here?" Janelle spoke with a smile, bringing Tiffany in for a warm embrace.

She couldn't take her eyes off of Albert—it was amazing how much he still looked the same.

Janelle started to embrace Albert; his arm moving to her waist with his lit cigarette, giving her a small kiss on the temple. "Just waitin' on you, beautiful—how you been?"

Janelle smiled with a nod, "Good. I've been really good, actually."

"That's great." Albert got lost in Janelle's eyes, amazed that after all this time she somehow became more beautiful.

She wore full faced makeup now, her hair with more layers, despite the length of it being tied loosely at the crown of her head.

The impact of Tiffany's elbow going into Albert's side pulled his attention away from Janelle's face, causing him to notice the yellow taxi coming to a stop in front of the hotel.

"Let's get a drink, I could use one right about now." Albert slung his arm across Janelle's shoulders, guiding her to the bar inside.

Tiffany stood like stone, watching as Julian climbed out of the cab.

It had only been a month since she'd last seen him, but he looked thinner—his jet black hair in wispy layers.

He reached into his zip up jacket for a pack of cigarettes, sporting a white shirt with a printed drawing of Michael Jackson's Thriller on the front. He looked rough—tired—someone you didn't want to fuck with tonight.

Tiffany felt the nausea bubbling to the back of her throat, thinking that if Julian had been just a little bit earlier—if Janelle had been just a little bit later—they would've shown up at the same time.

She was relieved that didn't happen, but terrified of what the night entailed.

This was a bad idea.