Story inspired by Elle King's song, 'America's Sweetheart'.
They grew up in the shady side of Downtown Miami- the part where every family was part of a gang, fake mafia, or the most common, street racing. The rest of the city despised these types of...
"I feel terrible." I whined, walking into the kitchen to great Sean, who was sitting at the table smoking an early cigarette as he read the morning paper. My head was pounding, and not even the two Advil's I took could help take the pain away.
"Well, that's what happens when you drink more than you're supposed too, and suffer from a massive hangover." He hinted. I looked at him with a very confused expression.
"I was hung-over?" I asked, rubbing my forehead. Sean nodded, and slapped the paper down on the table, before kicking his feet up on the table, leaning back in his chair. He looked up at me with a giant smile, "How many drinks did I-"
"Eight." He sharply cut me off, "Eight beers, Eleanor, Eight. Do you now see why I only allow ya' five a night? This is exactly what I was trying to prevent from happening." Sean shook his head, "But i'm not mad at ya'- if that's what you're thinkin'. Dime explained to me why you' did what ya' did, and i'd rather have you takin' your anger out by drinkin' instead of doin' other things."
"God- I don't remember drinkin' anythin' after the races. Last thing I even can remember, would be when I wailed Boy Sid in the face." I laughed to myself. That was a great hit.
"That was chaotic, man." Wesley interrupted, entering the small kitchen with Scram right behind him. "Mornin'."
"Yea, Tip. Sid hates ya', n' when I say hate, I mean it." Scram rubbed my head, messing up my work-ready hair. "Ew- You dun' look so good kiddo, feelin' alright?" He examined the bags under my red eyes carefully.
I shook my head no, "Apparently, I had way too much to drink last night." I sighed, and rubbed my temples once again. "Not to mention, I have work in a bit."
"Eh, we all have work today. Even I have to go in, and I rarely do on Saturday's. Boss is expectin' a hell of a lot more customers today than usual. Somethin' to do with the nascar race on the other side of town." Scram explained, and he was right. All of us would be stuck at work today. Scram at the grocery store, Dime at the corner shop, Steel at the gym, Ripper at the grocery store, Sean at the nearest theme park, Sly at her massage place, Ricky at the Marina, Foxy at her make-up salon, n' Wesley and I at the Grill. We all had pretty different jobs, and were usually spread out across our side of town- unless you were Ricky , Sean, n' Scram, who had to go to the other side of Miami for their jobs. The bright side, was that we all got off in between the hours of three n' four in the afternoon. That way, nobody has to miss out on any of the fun we all have together.
"Where's Ricky?" Sean asked Scram, "We need to leave if we're gonna' get to work on time. I'll drop y'all off again." Scram shrugged his shoulders, and disappeared again to go find Ricky.
"We should probably head out too." Wesley said, grabbing his backpack, and handing me my purse. Wesley and I usually walked together, since we worked at the same place, and it was only a ten minute walk from here. I said goodbye to Sean, and high-fived Steel on our way out. Half the time, all the boys stay at our place overnight instead of going back to their own. Most of their places are much nicer than ours, yet they still choose to spend most of their time here. I've said It before, and I'll say it again- I just don't understand these boys.
"Boy is it hot out today." Wesley complained, fanning himself the minute we stepped outside onto the tacky front porch. The platform was almost completely covered in beer stains, along with the side of the old, yellow home. It wasn't a big house, but it did make do.
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