I agree with Helena. So can't wait to see what happens next
Buckets of Rain Completed as of 10/8/09
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 Maysam |
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Posts: 363 (08/07/2008 10:29 PM) |
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glowbug narking tony |
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Posts: 4316 (08/13/2008 3:15 PM) |
Two Months Later
"Sign this," Charly leans over the desk, not at all missing the way his eyes skim over the cut of her blouse. One she's wholly uncomfortable in, and more than it is revealing it just isn't her taste. But these things often don't end up in her hands anymore and she manages to convince herself that she isn't losing money or sleep over it, though she knows the latter to be untrue. Rob scrawls his name disinterestedly onto the paper she puts in front of him, his gaze wandering appreciatively over an article of clothing he's hand-picked himself. The corners of his mouth dim into a frown as he spots a bruise in the last stages of healing, discolored some kind of sickly yellow. "What's this?" She doesn't flinch when his fingers wrap around her arm; by now she's used to the touch. Even so, she doesn't hesitate to remove herself from his grasp. "Selective memory must be fun," she mumbles, loudly enough for him to hear. "This, too. These need to go out at the end of today." "What are they for?" "Press releases for Justin's new movie. You can get a statement from him when he comes in later today." "You're on a first name basis with my clients now?" he attempts a feeble joke, not understanding the half of it. "Just sign them. I have to pick Dylan up from daycare in an hour and I don't have time to play Chatty Cathy over here." "Last I checked your time belongs to me." "Til five, and then if you're that desperate you'll have to go find someone else who'll play dominatrix with you. Sign." She shouldn't be snapping. It's entirely stupid of her to do this, but the lesson will inevitably come back to re-learn itself at some later date. The office door swings open and Justin strolls through. Charly's gut turns of its own accord and if she were the praying kind she'd pray like hell he hasn't heard a word of this. Not that it matters much, either way, this being the first time she's seen or heard from him in about two months. Still, the whole idea of dirty laundry needing to be kept private tugs at her and ironically enough, there's a certain innocence to the way Justin looks at her which she likes. Almost as if he finds something...pure or just genuinely good about her, which is a laugh, but she likes the feeling anyway. If he's heard anything, he gives no indication of it in his expression. Mostly, he looks uncomfortable all of a sudden, probably not sure what to do with her in the room. The thing is, he hasn't made the effort to call either, so he's every bit the guilty party he wants her to be. Although, somehow, he reasons, it's more her fault than it is his. "So what, you're Hellen Keller today?" she breaks the silence, toying with the freshly made eggs. Not by her, obviously. His back is to her as he rinses out the last of the dishes, wiping his hands dry on a stray paper towel. Turning, he scans the room, searching to make sure Dylan isn't around. "Chill, she's out with Lauren, remember? So what's with you?" "Seriously?" he raises an eyebrow. Charly shifts self-consciously on the stool, which isn't doing any favors for her already sore limbs. She looks...well, more or less she looks like shit. He won't say it and under normal circumstances she's the last person to be fazed by such things, but today it's more evident than usual. Her eyes are red, lingering with the last remnants of the previous night's tears. She vaguely remembers all but crawling into his lap, hours passing before she exhausts herself into a restless sleep. He remembers the sound the most. The suffocated, breathless sobs that keep repeating in his brain, over and over long after she's stopped crying. It's one he won't, more than that can't forget, no matter how much she wishes he would. "Listen, I appreciate you getting all Boy Scouts with my foot. All healed, look." As if to prove her point she struggles to lift her leg high enough for him to bear witness, then shoves down the wince she can feel coming on. "What the fuck happened last night?" Well, he gets points for being blunt at the very least. "Sorry man, didn't know you were in the middle of something." "We were discussing you, anyway," Rob shrugs apathetically, urging him in with a cock of his head. Panic registers in Justin's face, wondering if she knows what he's done yet and if she does how many seconds he has to get out of the room before she lunges at him. Instead, she just looks bored and if there's any semblance of hurt or excitement or anger or...hell, any emotion in her face she's doing a phenomenal job of hiding it. "Mm," Rob slides the papers forward as Justin takes a seat across the table. "Press statements for the movie. Charly wrote them up, look them over." Justin lifts the paper up cautiously, eyes flitting back and forth between her and it, a little paranoid about what kind of poison she could slip into the blurb if she wanted to. But it reads like a generic press release, and on any other day it might wound his ego a little but today he finds an odd sort of comfort in it. "It's fine," he nods, handing it back to Rob. "You're blowing this way out of proportion," she shakes her head, moving to stand. "I'm blowing this--are you nuts? Looked in the mirror today, Charly?" "Yeah, that's the way to win this argument." "It's not a fucking competition! Something--something happened, to you, and I--" "You're not in any position to get in the middle of it, if there was even an it to get in the middle of, which there isn't so cool your balls, Robin Hood!" "Stop! You're good at one-liners, I get it already. Would you just...stop, stop for a second and talk to me? Okay, I'm, I'm just worried--" "Justin, just cause you run around making moon eyes at me all day and playing nice with my kid doesn't make you worried. It makes you smart. Totally different game, sweetheart." The words leave her lips and she doesn't entirely mean them, and more than that even if she does she knows they aren't true. But it happens, the heat of the moment and misdirected anger and all of that garbage springs up, apparently not at all a cliche. Charly clears her throat, grabbing the papers off Rob's desk and ready to make a quick and efficient exit until his voice, the one that doesn't make her insides churn but have now succeeded in doing just that, stops her. "Charly, wait." "Yes, Mr. Timberlake?" Maybe it makes him an asshole but these three words, clearly doled out through gritted teeth, make him flash a cheshire grin. "Take a seat, please. There are a few things we still need to discuss." "You don't need me here for that." "Kinda do," Justin shrugs, like this is out of his control on any level. It might be slightly more convincing, except his leg is thumping a steady, excited beat against the carpeted floor and at this point, she's seen him enough to recognize an inexplicable, childish glee in his features. Wherever this is going, she suspects it isn't anywhere good. One look at Rob's interested confusion, though, and at this point it's easier to sit down. Charly casts a wary glance at Justin, who uselessly offers her a playful wink. "Ya ever stop to think for a second that the world ain't at your beck and call, Charly?" "This coming from YOU?" she can't help but laugh. Justin reaches around the counter and grabs her arm, firm but careful not to hurt her. With a gentle yank she's flush against his chest, blue eyes darkening with anger. "You think cause you've got a kid and you had to do all this shit the hard way you're entitled or some shit? You're not. You wanna know how the friends thing works? Both ways, babydoll, and I've been real good, so far, I think. I don't say shit, I keep my mouth shut when you decide to go all Cybil on me and I'm--I'm tellin' myself, man, chill out cause this girl will eventually relax a little. She'll give a little, and--" "Give a little what?" she feigns disgust, but he's not buying it. "Oh don't turn this into some dirty shit, you know it's not. I've been patient as fuckall, but you gotta give me something to work with. You can't expect me to sit and listen to you like that all night, then the next morning spout bullshit references that honestly, half the time I don't even know what you're talking about. Doesn't work that way. Guess what? Everybody's not an asshole. Some people aren't just gonna fuck you up and bail. There's an odd lot of us who actually, I dunno, give a shit. And clearly, I give a shit which is why I'm still hanging around your crazy ass." Tears cloud her eyes but now, for a different reason entirely. "What is your deal?" she asks weakly. "What do you want?" "I want you..." Justin trails off, brushing his thumb gently across her cheek. Almost like he's forgotten there should be more to the thought than this, he flinches away from her, leaning back against the counter. "I want you to chill the fuck out a little. Lemme in. I'm not askin' for the life story or hell, even the condensed version. But if you're gonna get like that you can't expect me not to ask, y'know?" "Then you can't expect me to answer." "Why?" "Because I can't." "Not good enough." "Let it go, Justin." "Too late for that." "Then too bad for you, I guess. I'm sorry, I am, but I'm used to doing things...a certain way and just 'cause you've got a fix-it complex doesn't mean I'm all of a sudden not going to fancy myself some kind of magician with the ability to solve all my own shit. So I'm asking you, as a friend, to let this go." He considers this for a moment. Then, with a slow shake of his head, pries his jacket off one of the stools and slings it over his arm. "Not how it works, Charly." She steels herself, a quick, knowing laugh working its way out of her throat. "Fine, whatever." "You want to do the friends thing, works both ways. And I'm around. You want somebody you can shit on whenever you feel like it and then bail? Hire a fucking maid or something, I don't know." With that, he's out the door. "You'll be joining Justin in Tennessee next week." Charly's head snaps up, a little dazed. "Excuse me?" "My cousin Rachel," Justin explains slowly, almost like he's talking to a child and this infuriates her. "She's taking a little break, but I still need an assistant. Asked Rob and he said it was cool if you came and babysat me for a week or two. I need some babysittin', ya know." All the things she wants to say aloud she knows she can't and so she grits her teeth, fumbling for an excuse or a way, any way out of this. She finds none. |
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glowbug narking tony |
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Posts: 4317 (08/13/2008 3:22 PM) |
Forgot to say thanks for the feedback guys.
 Much appreciated from my sleep-deprived self.
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Maysam |
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Posts: 372 (08/13/2008 10:45 PM) |
Your welcome on the feedbacks. Now I def can't wait to read more. You so need to update again and soon. I want to know if Charly will tell Justin about how
Rob is treating her. And is Dylan going with Justin and Charly.
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ItalianHB |
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Posts: 2854 (08/14/2008 5:41 PM) |
ahh crap i love this story!!! seriously can't believe the way rob is treating her...and justin will eventually find out and he will not be happy at all....
love that she is going with him to TN....hopefully this mean they will work on a "friendship" ...
NEED MORE SOOOOOOOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! |
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glowbug narking tony |
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Posts: 4324 (08/17/2008 4:11 AM) |
Aw you guys are awesome!
Ten "No we have that movie already...Momma had to buy me a new one cause the first one stopped playing cause it played so many times..." Charly steps inside her apartment, a small smile pulling at her features when she hears Dylan's voice chattering away excitedly on the phone. This, she thinks, this moment when she walks inside and can see the same pair of giant, curious eyes, her own nose, the corners of her mouth constantly upturned in an impish grin--somehow everything else fades into the background and it's worth it. Perched on the counter, she sits cross-legged, concocting some kind of chocolate volcano and generally just making a mess. The phone, slightly too big for her to hold in one hand, is cradled precariously between her ear and her neck as she stacks Oreos neatly, one on top of the other. Dylan looks up, and with her free hand smiles brightly, waving before her attention returns to her prior task. Charly drops a kiss on her nose, smudging some excess chocolate from the child's cheek. Dylan swats her away, nose wrinkling in distaste. From somewhere behind, Lauren emerges and just as she's about to question the guilty expression the older woman is wearing when Dylan's giggling stops her. "No, Daddy, the don't make the food outta the rats!" Her head snaps back to the kitchen and within four seconds she yanks the phone from Dylan's hand, nearly dropping it before she recovers, pulling it to her ear frantically. "What the fuck are you doing?" A familiar laugh crackles through the line and years of history resurface, memories both bad and good, shelved for so long are now jolted back from dormancy, a little sickening. "Hey, Charlie Brown," says the caller. The nickname feels foreign now, time having successfully (or so she thought) buried the gravelly delivery, charming in its own right, in some place she doesn't feel inclined to revisit. "Drew, it's not her birthday. What's the occasion or is hell freezing over just for kicks today?" "I'm clean, Charly." "Oh I've heard this song and dance before, gotta say, getting a little tired of it, tempo's not really doing it for me anymore." "You good? You sound good." "I'm friggin' fantastic, what do you want, Drew? The fuck you doing calling my kid when, when--" "She's my kid, too," Drew says, and it comes through the line so quietly she isn't entirely sure he believes it himself. "Are you kidding me with this bullshit?" "I have a sponsor. I got a therapist, I got a job and an apartment and I quit all that shit, I'm telling you. Except for cigs, but cut me a little slack. I just wanna see her, get her to watch something that's not that rat movie, maybe." "The words are all real pretty, hon, but I'm not biting. Not this time." "I don't know what she looks like now." The desperation, almost begging does break her heart a little, but not enough. It isn't as simple as first love and father and immediate rights, as much as some part of her wishes it could be. "Like me, with your hair and mouth," she retorts, eyeing Dylan who seems unfazed by the disruption of her phone call and is entirely focused on her expanding chocolate...whatever it is. "My eating habits, though." "Please, Charly." With a tired sigh, she leans against the hallway wall, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "I'm out of town for a work thing for a week, maybe two. Taking her with, when I get back you call me, not her, give me numbers and locations and work information for all those apparently very helpful people you mentioned before and if, if you're not dicking around then we can set up some kind of supervised visitation thing. And Drew, that's the monolith of ifs, you got it?" "You want blood samples, too?" "Don't tempt me." Charly clicks off the phone, retracing her steps to the kitchen and setting it back on the counter. The television blares listlessly in the background and she covers her ears, trying in vain to clear the foggy haze clouding her thoughts right now. Turning, her eyes narrow into a glare when she spots Lauren, very consciously ignoring her, watching some show with Dylan pulled onto her lap. "Hey shithead, I need to talk to Lauren for a minute. Do me a favor and go pack a bag of your clothes?" Dylan slides off the couch, confusion dancing in her features. "Where we going? You promised we'd go to the pool tomorrow!" "There's gonna be a pool where we're going, a big one shaped like a giant egotistical asshole." Dylan frowns, not understanding the reference but placated enough to oblige her mother's request. She disappears into her room and shuts the door, somehow sensing this is a conversation not reserved for her ears. "Lauren--" she starts, but is interrupted before she can evan verbalize her anger. "I know, I know I'm sorry I completely fucked up, I didn't know it was him, I thought it was Justin and you know if I thought it was Drew I wouldn't have, cause obviously that's a world of bad and okay, you're pissed, I dig, but really if--" "Back up, back up." "What?" "Why would you think it was Justin?" "Generally when there's a guy over the age of five calling for Dylan, it's Justin." Lauren explains slowly. "Come again?" "Justin...calls for Dylan about once a week for like, two months now. Usually while you're at work. You knew this? You didn't know this. Oh, crap I'm in fine form tonight." "How long?" "How long what?" "Has he been calling her?" "I wasn't keeping a log sheet. About two months I guess? I don't know, how often does he call you?" "Motherfucker's got balls, I'll give him that." "I'm confused. And you're making all kinds of not sense right now so I think a big huh? is in order," Lauren finishes, carrying the remnants of the chocolate-filled plate to the sink. "I have to go be his personal assistant for two weeks while hie cousin's on vacation. Per his request, of course." "That sounds sexy. But you don't have sexy face on so no, bad. Did I miss something?" "We're not speaking." "Did you have sex with him again?" "What? No! What are you, insane?" she parks herself on the counter stool, neck craning to make sure Dylan's door is still closed. Once satisfied that it is, she returns her attention to Lauren. "And can we not, with that word in that apartment, huh?" "Honey, you say motherfucker around her no less than eight times a day, she's gonna figure sex out eventually." "When she's forty-two and happily married, sure. For now, shut up." "So you're going to LA?" "Tennessee." Lauren peers over her shoulder as she does the dishes, catching some odd flicker of anticipation in Charly's eyes. This is, however, quickly masked by rage. "What's in Tennessee?" "How do I know? Trees? Woodland creatures? What's going to be left of his body if I have to spend two straight weeks listening to him talk about himself? Actually, just him talking in general. Or breathing the wrong way." "Yes, but he's very pretty." "He's obnoxious." Charly pouts, and this almost makes Lauren laugh because the display is identical to Dylan's antics when frustrated. But she doesn't laugh, because she isn't suicidal. "You're cranky." "You're unhelpful. Be of use, damnit." "About Drew or Justin?" Charly looks down, suddenly fascinated by her fingernails. The simplest way is to take out her confusion and anger to place blame where it doesn't belong, which though she won't admit it, she knows shouldn't be Justin's burden to bear. Although the likelihood of her being civil has whittled down to nonexistent status after his stunt and Drew's phone call. "He says he's clean." "You believe him?" "I believed him before." "That was before Dylan, though." "I know." "Then you remember how this goes." "Yeah." Lauren leans over, scratching Charly's head in a futile attempt to provide some sort of comfort. "Whatcha gonna do, kid?" "Don't know. He actually risked me being home to call her on not her birthday though. That's gotta...I just, I need to be sure." "About? You're not gonna--" "No!" Charly interrupts, adamantly shaking her head. "This isn't about that. But if it's...if he's good, or at least on his way there then he deserves to get to see Dylan." ><><<br /> "Seriously, you're not gonna talk to me at all? It's gonna be a long two weeks, sweetheart." Justin tries, albeit unsuccessfully, to shift his arm from the place in which it's trapped, between the seat and Dylan's sleeping form. "Your choice," Charly responds curtly, looking over an itinerary Rob has provided for the trip. "We need to talk." "Talk to my kid. Seems you're doing that enough as it is." "You're pissed?" he raises an eyebrow. At his point, he submits to the fact that there is apparently no winning with this girl. "You know, getting chummy with her just so you can get information on--" "Come on already, are you kidding? And you're runnin' around tryin' to tell me I'm full of myself." "Blow me." "Three things," Justin finally manages to remove his arm from behind Dylan and leans in close to Charly, his mouth inches from hers. "One, I call Dylan cause I feel like talking to her. If I didn't want to, I wouldn't and I'm sure as hell not doing it cause I feel all that reminiscent about talking to you. Two, technically for the next two weeks I'm your boss. If you're trading friendly insults it's one thing, and I don't know how you handle your shit around Rob, but you don't get to be a bitch for the sake of being a bitch with me." She lowers her head at the mention of Rob; it stings, but she refuses to show it. "And three...well actually there is no three, it was just the two but three sounds better so as a postscript to number two I'm adding that you have to be nice to me when I talk to you. Or don't talk to me at all, but you can't be a bitch." As soon as the words leave hie lips he regrets them. He knows even before her eyes meet his which option she's going to choose. "Fine," she says, and the sweetness in her voice doesn't at all match the hatred in her gaze. She lifts his plastic cup and tosses it into a garbage bag the flight attendant brings by, then returns to the papers in front of her. And the silence fills in for the only excuse they have.
Edited By: glowbug narking tony
08/17/2008 1:28 PM.
Edited 1 times.
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Maysam |
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Posts: 379 (08/17/2008 1:39 PM) |
Charly lol needs to get the stick out of her butt and tell Justin about Rob and her ex Drew. She needs to trust him more
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ItalianHB |
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Posts: 2855 (08/18/2008 10:24 PM) |
i totally agree - she's def being a bitch for no reason at all!!! but hopefully this trip will do them some good...
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glowbug narking tony |
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Posts: 4372 (09/07/2008 2:34 AM) |
I suck. I know.
Eleven I talk to you as to a friend I hope that's what you've come to be It feels as though we've made amends Like we found a way eventually It was you who picked the pieces up When I was a broken soul And then glued me back together Returned to me what others stole "I got her." Justin says as Charly goes to reach for Dylan. The flight, compiled with the drive home from the airport has clearly exhausted the child. She has slipped into a near dead state of sleep, tiny arms wrapped around his neck with her face buried in his shoulder. Charly smoothes her daughter's hair down, nodding wordlessly as she lifts her bag out of the trunk of Trace's car. "Need help with that?" Trace asks uncertainly, having had to sit through an excruciating uncomfortable silence the whole way back. "I'm good, thanks." They make their way towards the front door of a house Charly's sure could house all the occupants of a youth hostel. Justin braces Dylan with one arm, slipping a key into three separate locks, letting them inside. Once inside, the smell of food excuses a growl from Charly's stomach and for the first time, she remembers that she hasn't had the opportunity to eat today. "Ma, we're here." Justin calls out, careful to keep his voice low. "Well honey, I got as much from that damn door. When you gonna get those hinges fixed or do you want me to call Tommy for you?" Lynn emerges from the kitchen, waving a wooden spoon at him. "I'll call him in the morning." "My ass you will." Like the thought just occurred to her, Lynn shifts her gaze to Charly and comes barreling at the younger woman, full force, arms extended. "Charly!" Before she has time to protest, Lynn is hugging her a little too tightly for her own comfort. "Uh...hi, nice to meet you Mrs..." "Oh it's Lynn, hush. I hear about you ALL the time." Charly eyes Justin, who seems to be doing everything humanly possible to avoid directly looking at her. All the commotion manages to stir Dylan awake, who lifts her head sleepily. Her face is red and a little swollen from the fabric of Justin's shirt and some spit is drying at the corner of her mouth. She blinks a few times, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light in the room though she isn't quite aware of her surroundings yet. "Hey, trouble. Want me to take you to your room?" Justin wipes at her mouth, no visible signs of disgust evident in his features despite the fact that the right side of his shirt is pretty damp. Charly warms at the display, but tries to appear unaffected. "I can take her," she pipes up, feeling entirely too awkward in a stranger's house. "I smell food." Dylan shouts, smiling brightly. "Is there food?" Lynn laughs, and Charly notes that it's similar to Justin's on sheer sincerity alone. The older woman reaches for Dylan, who shifts easily from Justin's embrace. "Are you hungry, miss?" Dylan nods furiously. "Alright, let's see if we can find you somethin' to munch on. Justin, take that poor girl's bag and show her to her room, would ya? You know better." "I'm gonna...I'll be there because I really don't wanna get into this silent pissing contest thing the two of you got going." Trace disappears and then it's just the two of them, alone and uncomfortable. I don't wanna hurt you I don't wanna make you sway Like I know I've done before I will not do it anymore I've always been a dreamer I've had my head among the clouds Now that I'm coming down Won't you be my solid ground? Justin tries to take the bag from Charly but she clutches onto the strap. "I got it, just show me where the room is, Tarzan." He fights the urge to physically shake the stubborn out of her. "Well, come on then." ><><<br /> Two days later "I mean, I don't want to be a killjoy and I'm all for her picking out her own clothes but her teachers don't seem all that thrilled about her coming in wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt, you know? Connotations and all," Charly laughs, shaking her head. "So I don't really know what to do." Justin listens in from the living room, eyes fixed on the television screen but his attention glued elsewhere. This is perhaps the most he's heard from her, and she isn't even talking to him. She's talking to his mother, of all people. It's driving him nuts, the silent treatment and more than that it's irritating the shit out of him. Dylan is sprawled out on the floor, coloring in one of his old books. "Hey D, wanna take a nap?" "I'm not tired." She sits up, resting on her feet and it never ceases to amaze him how the kid is always so full of energy. "Do you get tired because you're old?" At this, he laughs. "I do. You gonna be good if I take a nap?" "I'm always good," she shrugs simply, and he doesn't miss the mischief in her eyes. "Uh huh." "Well, you're lucky you get her into clothes. Justin at her age was runnin' round naked all the time, we had to bribe him into wearin' anything!" "MA!" he hollers, though an easy smile stretches across his face at Charly's laughter. Even if it is at his expense, there is some comfort in the fact that the thought of him makes her smile and briefly, he wonders how he became this far gone this fast. Sinking into the couch, he feels his lids growing heavy until finally he gives into a restless sleep filled with thoughts of a girl who's a royal pain in the ass. Trace pokes his head into the den and hisses at Dylan. "Hey! Kid!" Dylan shoots him a bored glare. "It's Dylan, you goof." "Sorry, Dylan...wanna color on something fun?" He holds up a stack of permanent markers, eliciting an excited giggle from her. "C'mere." ><><<br /> "Dylan what are you...oh shit. Stop!" Charly yanks the marker from her hands, then, for the first time noticing Trace, yanks the one from his as well. "What the fuck are you teaching my kid?" "Momma, they're just balloon animals!" Charly glares at Trace, who cannot control his laughter. "What are you, twelve years old? Or you just have a Peter Pan complex?" "Oh chill out, it's funny." He says in between fits, wiping stray tears from his eyes. Charly looks down at a still sleeping Justin and bites her lip because actually, it is funny. Wrong and vulgar, but funny nonetheless. "Does this shit even come off?" Charly bends down, licking her thumb and trying to wipe at his face. The ink gives no sign of budging, and she almost feels bad but at the same time, a certain childish glee fills her head. Justin frowns, swatting at her hand before finally catching her wrist and pulling her forward. She stumbles, bracing herself against the arm of the couch. When his eyes open, her mouth is a breath from his. "What the..." "You have cocks all over your face. In permanent marker. Like, no exaggeration, your head is just...a giant mural of cocks right now." Justin sits up, confused. He rubs a hand over his face and stares down at his hand dumbly. Trace is all but gone at this point, doubled over the couch, reaching out to high-five Dylan, who looks utterly lost and slightly afraid of the repercussions of the situation. "I'm gonna fu--" "Okay, okay, come on I have something that'll take it off." Charly pulls herself up and hauls him alongside her, calling out to Dylan as they leave. "Dylan, no more balloon animals, you got that? And if Trace asks you to do anything, you're not allowed!" ><><<br /> Charly positions herself between Justin's legs, dabbing at his cheek with a damp cottonball. Perched on the edge of the sink, he hisses at the contact, curling his fingers around her jeans. She freezes momentarily, shaking the feeling before continuing. "What is this shit, it burns!" "Oh come on, like you're not familiar with the feeling." "You're just loving this, aren't you? It's like some warped kind of payback scheme." "You want me to stop? Because I'm helping but if you're going to get all mouthy with me I'm more than happy to let you walk around in public. In fact, I'll add to the collection when you pass out. Maybe make them bigger, Tommy Lee style." "At least you're talking to me." "I'm not talking to you." "You're not?" "No," Charly snaps, tossing the cottonball in the trash before reaching for another one. Seeing the hurt in his expression, she softens a bit. "I'm not NOT talking to you either, though." "Well that's a start." "Don't push it, you're not exactly nearing the Jimmy Stewart level of good graces yet." "Who?" "Jimmy...how do you not...how deprived was your childhood?" "I don't generally make it a point to get all familiar with old ass people nobody knows. See, they've got this great system now where movies and music come out in the present day, you should check it out." "Funny, because they used to have this great system back in the day where movies and music came out and were actually GOOD, you know, it wasn't like any halfway decent looking guy with stupid hair could make a record, but I get it, the neanderthal tendency comes cause that's all you got going for you isn't it?" She sticks her tongue out at him, swabbing at his nose playfully. "Low blow, Benson, low blow. My hair ain't stupid!" He mock pouts and she can't help but laugh, because with his eyes closed and his lower lip jutting out so far he looks ridiculous. Justin opens his eyes, giving her an impish grin. I look at you and see a friend I hope that's what you wanna be Are we back now where it all began? Have you finally forgiven me? You gathered my dreams in When they all blew away And then tricked them back into me You saved me I was almost dead "You're an idiot." Her laughter comes out now, full-fledged and it's coarse, loud, and immaculately lovely. Without thinking, he sets a hand around the back of her neck and pulls her close, pressing his lips against hers. Shit shit shit shit shit. His mind is screaming at his own stupidity but then all of a sudden something clicks in his brain--she's kissing him back. His wraps his legs around the backs of her knees, and sitting on the sink he has to do a bit of maneuvering because she's even shorter than him at this angle. His fingers fist themselves in her hair and she groans, quietly as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue past the part of her lips. Charly wraps her fingers around the collar of his shirt and his other hand slides down, slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt. And now he wishes he hadn't, because she tears away from him with such force he's almost convinced his lip is bleeding. Pushing at him, she throws his balance off and his ass falls back into the sink. "Oh fuck. Fucking shit fuck fuck...what is wrong with you?" She lands a sloppy punch against his arm. "Charly, wait a--" "No! No waiting, waiting is bad and clearly waiting makes you all kinds of untrustworthy so this is me, not waiting, and getting the fuck out of this bathroom before you manage to get out. Stay here!" She backs away, eyes wild and breaths coming out in rapid, quick succession. The bathroom door slams shut and Justin sits still, legs hanging at an odd incline over the sink, undoubtedly looking every bit the idiot he feels like. I don't wanna hurt you I don't wanna make you sway Like I know I've done before I will not do it anymore I've always been a dreamer I've had my head among the clouds Now that I'm coming down Won't you be my solid ground? Lyrics from the song "Sway" by The Perishers |
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ItalianHB |
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Posts: 2870 (09/07/2008 9:25 AM) |
damn - i think he just fucked up their relationship even more! can't wait to see him dig himself out of this!!!
great chapter!! |
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Maysam |
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Posts: 405 (09/07/2008 9:15 PM) |
Awesome chapter. So agree with Helena. Hopefully he can regain her trust again and she can trust him.
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glowbug narking tony |
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Posts: 4384 (09/14/2008 1:26 PM) |
Well...he is a boy and their tendencies are dumb...so....that being said...
Twelve It takes him a few seconds, but suddenly something registers in his mind and he bolts off the bathroom sink, bracing himself against a clumsy dismount, before rushing out the door after her. He finds her in the guest bedroom, frantically re-packing two weeks' worth of clothing. Although precisely what she's doing can be described less as packing and more just shoving things in where they might fit. Justin closes the door behind himself and her head shoots up, eyes still a little dazed. "Go away." She orders, grabbing him by the elbow and moving to open the door. It budges but only slightly as he leans back against it, determined to at least try and reason with her. "Charly, let me just--" "What the hell were you thinking, huh? Like, did that tiny little brain of yours decide to go chill out with Bob Marley in the land of dead stoners or something? Cause if it did, let me know, and at least that's a viable excuse." "I'm sorry, it just...happened." "Well at least take the credit for it, you ass. It's not the same thing as dropping the soap in the shower, it doesn't just 'happen' you made an active choice to be a selfish little--" "You kissed me back, crazy ass!" Maybe this might not be the best or most mature way to handle the situation, but he's still reeling with the memory of the kiss and her trying to reassign blame is making him completely irrational. "What are you, five years old? Or did you just forget that I have a job I need to keep, a kid I need to feed, a--" "What the hell does that have to do with anything that just happened?" he asks, genuinely confused. Charly laughs, shaking her head grabbing another pile of clothes from the drawer to put in her bag. "Everything! It's not something you need to sit and worry about, but guess what Justin, when you get bored of this and of me, and of this nice little playhouse set-up you've got going with Dylan, you're not the one getting the shit end of the stick!" "That's what you think this is?" "Of course that's what it is, you're a fucking kid, which is fine, if I were you--" "I'm five years older--" "Not mentally, you're--" "And you are the most cynical fucking--" "Keep your voice down, Tonto, there are still people in your house." Justin crosses over and for each item she drops in her suitcase he retrieves an armful, carrying them back to the drawer. Charly tries grabbing them from him, but his grip is locked on them. "Stop it! We're getting a hotel." "Don't be ridiculous, I'm the immature one?" "Listen, if you wanna get laid, I am more than happy to assist you and play wingman, but I'm not that girl--" "Who said you were that girl? I didn't say that, now you're just makin' shit up--" His accent becomes more pronounced the angrier he gets. There are a lot of things he has patience with; being accused of using a girl has never been one of them. "Of course I'd be that girl, I already WAS that girl with you, what the hell else--" Justin drops the clothes and grabs Charly around the waist, slamming her against the back of the dresser drawer and crushing his mouth against hers. And this time, it's not the least bit sweet or gentle. It's forceful, and angry, and full of every feeling he can't verbalize properly. Her knees give out a little and she stumbles but he pulls her back up, keeping her steady. She tries desperately to pull him even closer, unable to breathe and not really having the urge to at this point. He pulls back for a second, breathing kisses against her hair, her jawline. Taking a moment to leave a lingering kiss against her scar, he then moves his mouth back to hers and gives her one last kiss, a chaste one this time, before resting his forehead against hers to take a second to slow down his heart. Charly pants, eyes closed, her forehead a little damp against his, clutching onto his belt loops tightly. "I'm in love with you, you stupid girl." He says, so quietly she can barely hear him. And now, she finally does open her eyes, staring at his blue ones and recognizing something in them she knows she's seen a thousand times before when he looks at her, but can only now match up to his words. "Well whose fault is that?" Slowly, she removes herself from his grasp and wipes at her mouth a little. "I can't do this. This doesn't...it doesn't work." "How do you know?" "Because I know, Justin." She says, and her tone is helpless, like this is a situation out of her control, which he doesn't at all understand. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were a prophet now." "Just call me Mohammed." Justin tugs at his hair, thankful now that it's growing out to the point where he can actually do that without digging his nails into his scalp. "Stop! Can you just, for once, have a goddamn serious conversation with me without some clever comeback?" Charly sets the last of the clothes in her duffel bag, slinging it over her shoulder. With some kind of newfound shyness, though she reasons it's a little late for that, she puts her arms around his neck and hugs him. "You make it sound real simple, kid. It isn't. Wish it was but you are...we're in totally different places and it's just all kinds of a bad idea." She lets him go and he hangs back, limp. "I'm gonna check us into wherever the closest hotel is. Give me a call if you need something...something work related, I mean." ><><<br /> "You're a dumbass." Trace shakes his head, shoving a handful of potato chips into his mouth. "So what, you're on her side now?" Justin reaches for the chips but Trace snatches them away, territorial. "Pigface." "Since when do I need to be on her side to think you're a dumbass?" The front door slams shut and a distinct clack of flip flops is heard coming through the foyer. "Yo bitches, what'd I miss?" Rachel saunters in, dropping a large purse to the ground. "Packers are losin', Lynn went out to go drop Charly and Dylan at a hotel cause your dumbass cousin over here decided to not only make out with her--twice--but to tell her he's in love with her." Rachel's mouth drops open in shock and she hops over the couch, positioning herself in between the two men and yanking the chips from Trace's hand. "What the fuck? I've been gone three days and you can't control your bullshit?" "Your lead-in was the Packers are losing...?" Justin trails off disbelievingly. "Hey, ADD boy, focus!" she snaps her fingers in front of his face and he returns his attention to her with a glare. "What? We kissed, she flipped, so now they're going to stay at a hotel. End of story." "And the love bit?" "Just sorta came out." "What'd she say?" "She said, and I quote, 'Whose fault is that?'" "Ouch," Rachel winces, rubbing a sympathetic hand against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, honey. Wanna get drunk?" "Maybe later," he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I am just...not having what would constitute a good day." But the truth of it is that there's a small, subconscious part of him jumping up and down like a five year old because she did reciprocate, and that's something, however miniscule it might be. "But you are a dumbass. You don't just spring that shit on a girl after kissing her for the first time, what's wrong with you?" Trace smacks the back of his head. "Rach, gimme my goddamn chips back or I swear to god I'mma punch you." "Try it, munchkin." "Okay, it's not like I just met the chick." "Yeah but it's not like you've been fucking her either," Trace shoots back. "She had to have figured, you're as subtle as a sledgehammer." Rachel offers, trying to be helpful but laughing a little at the way her words come across. "Sorry babe, you know what I mean though." "And all she kept saying was, it doesn't work, it's not simple, negative bullshit negative blah blah blah. Like, then don't fuckin' kiss me back in the first place!" "What kind of insane troll logic is that?" Rachel moves to stand. "God, I need a beer. Trace?" "Yeah, grab a couple." "You know what you need to do Just, get her in the pool. I've never seen any girl you've been with that managed to turn you down after that." Rachel's voice gets more distant the further she gets from the den. It's manipulative and quite probably a terrible idea but she does bring up a fair point. As history goes, the ploy has worked in his favor. "Huh," he muses, his mind churning with possible thoughts. "But she told me only to call her if it was work related." "So throw a party, tell her you need help setting up and calling people...assistant bullshit. Bro, you used to be a lot better at this." Trace thanks Rachel as she returns with the beers. She hands one off to Justin as well, parking herself down on the couch again. Justin flashes her a bright smile and throws an arm around her, squeezing her to his side. "Rach, I love you I love you I love you." "See now if you said it like that, maybe Charly wouldn'ta gone runnin'." Trace takes a sip of his beer, ducking the flying pillow headed in his direction. |
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Maysam |
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Posts: 415 (09/14/2008 3:01 PM) |
LOL. Def can't wait to read next chapter.
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ItalianHB |
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Posts: 2884 (09/14/2008 3:56 PM) |
hahaha i love the relationship all 3 have with one another - you can tell they are allll very very close
i cant wait to read more!! |
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glowbug narking tony |
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Posts: 4406 (09/30/2008 1:56 AM) |
Yeah, that's the problem with family, they're always all up in your business.
Thirteen Charly pulls the tie from her hair, shaking it loose. Her mind muddled with extraneous thoughts, she barely notices Dylan pacing around the quaint bedroom, stopping every few seconds to let out a dramatic sigh. In Millington, the hotels are more or less non-existent, so at Lynn's insistence they've been brought to a Bed and Breakfast run by an old family friend, an overly affectionate Southern woman by the name of Myra. At this point, Charly would settle for a tent in the woods to maintain some sort of physical distance from Justin. "Momma, I don't like it here," Dylan states, tugging at the hem of Charly's top. "Why's that, baby?" she flops down on the edge of the bed, pulling Dylan up alongside her. "It's boring," Dylan says with a simple shrug, as if the answer should be obvious enough. "Can we go be with J now?" Maybe it's the phrasing of it, but something about the way she says it provokes a guttural reaction from Charly. "Dylan, that's not your house and you can't be with Justin all the time, you got me? I know you like him, but you'll see him when you see him and otherwise you're just gonna have to suck it up and deal." And the child, not fully sensing the irritation in her mother's voice, goes on. "But he's my friend, Momma." Charly pushes the hair out of Dylan's eyes, a small smile pulling at her features. "I know, bubs. I promise, you'll get to see him," and under her breath mutters "We're stuck here another week at any rate." "Promise?" Dylan's eyes light up, hopeful. "Pinky swear." Dylan extends her little finger to seal the deal and Charly hooks her own in with it, laughing. "Alright, I'm gonna hop in the shower. You hold down the fort, make sure nobody steals you. Cool?" "Okay." Prying herself off the bed, she notes that her muscles aren't as sore as usual, attributing some of it to the leave of absence from New York. She lets herself into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. With a flick of her wrist her cell phone is open, dialing Lauren's number. Seating herself on the edge of the toilet seat, she tugs the faucet of the bathtub forward for good measure. "What's shakin', chick?" Lauren greets cheerily from the other end of the line. "I'm in hell." "Metaphorically speaking or--" "Laur!" "So not metaphoric, got it. What's up, not digging nature?" "He kissed me. Twice. Oh and now apparently all of a sudden he's in love with me, the dumbass. Like he was talking about pancakes or The Philadelphia Story, poof he's in love, only not The Philadelphia Story because the ingrate's probably never seen it and I'M IN HELL. Oh, oh! And he called me stupid." "Cause you're so nice with your pet names for him." "I'm in love with you, stupid girl. End quote. What the fuck? Keep that to yourself." "Wooow," Lauren drawls, blatantly sarcastic. "That's it? That's your helpful advice? You seriously suck at this game." "Did you kiss him back?" "What does that have to do with anything?" Charly snaps, picking at the lint on her jeans. "I know you're relationship-challenged and all, but that's sort of the point of the whole thing. I'll take that as a yes, by the way." "Shut up." She's completely regretting making this call now, because what she's hearing is exactly the opposite of what she wants to hear. Although what she wants to hear she isn't entirely sure--she just knows it isn't this. ><><<br /> Dylan ambles along the dirt-paved road, pausing to pick up a large stick that's nestled in a nearby patch of grass. She hopes the note she's left her mother is a sufficient enough explanation, but mostly she's simply too bored to stay trapped in that room without any form of real entertainment. A large white jeep blazes past her, screeching to a halt before it starts up again, reversing at a snail's pace. She quickens her step, breaking into a run before a familiar voice stops her in her tracks. "Hey trouble, where you runnin'?" Justin pokes his head out of the driver's side to smirk at her. Her features break into a wide smile as she hurries to catch up with the vehicle. "I was coming to see you!" she sing-songs sweetly, craning her neck to see inside. She sticks her tongue out at trace, who only laughs in turn. "Well, tough luck considering I'm not home. Your mom know what you're up to?" "I left a note..." she lifts her shoulders in a helpless shrug. Trace eyes Justin worriedly. "Oh you're SO fucked now." "HEY!" Dylan sets her hands on her hips, glaring. "Sorry," Trace mumbles sheepishly. "So you gonna hitchhike all the way there or get in here with us?" She contemplates the thought and then, relenting, hands her stick to Trace, who dumps it in the back, rubbing the stray dirt onto the leg of his pants. He opens the door, leaning down to scoop her into his arms. "You wanna ride up front and we can kick Trace in the back?" "No I like the back." She climbs in between them and parks herself in the middle seat right behind. "So what's with the stick?" Justin asks, ruffling her hair with his free hand. She swats him away, waving it in his face. "It's my poking stick." "For what?" Trace stares at it, all of a sudden suspicious. And almost as if she senses his discomfort, she playfully jabs his arm. "For when you annoy me." By the time they pull up to the Bed and Breakfast, Charly is standing outside, her hair soaked and wrapped in a fairly flimsy excuse for a robe. Justin spots the Sheriff's car parked a few feet away and mutters an expletive underneath his breath as the three of them pile out of the jeep. "Dylan!" Charly shouts, hurling herself at the child, damn near hauling her into her arms, hands running over her face and her arms to ensure that she's free of harm. Apparently satisfied, she breathes a kiss into her hair. "Oh my god I'm so gonna kill you, kid. You are roadkill." "Sheriff," Justin extends his hand and the older man takes it, a warm smile on his face. "Justin! Didn't know you were home, son." "Just got in last night, sir. Thought I'd at least keep from startin' trouble for a few days yet, but here we are..." he trails off with an awkward laugh, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with Charly. "No trouble at all. Young lady, your mama's been worried sick over you." "Sorry, Momma." Dylan hangs her head in the crook of Charly's shoulder, doe eyed and looking guilty. "Oh don't even kiss ass now, you punk. Just wait til' you're old enough to get grounded cause this is going on the list. You're not allowed to leave the house again until you're thirty, you got me?" "Fine," Dylan pouts, squirming in her arms until Charly sets her down. "Wait out here with Trace for a minute. Thank you so much, Sheriff, and I'm sorry for being such a pain." Shifting her attention to Justin, she continues. You. Inside. Now." She gestures at him as he fumbles with his car keys, trying to deduce the quickest exit strategy. Finding none, he follows her inside hesitantly. "Before you freak, I didn't know she was gonna--" "Shut up," she grabs his hand, yanking him towards her room. She lets them both in, slamming the door as soon as he clears the entry way. "Listen, all I did was pick her up when I saw her, there is no way in hell you can twist this shit--" Before he can complete the thought her mouth is on his and he finds himself pressed up against the back of the door, trying to release the breath that catches in his throat out of sheer surprise alone. It takes him a minute to respond, but he isn't completely stupid and his arms snake around her neck, tentative, tilting his head to the side as he gently works her mouth open with his tongue. She smells like peaches and he finds this a little ironic, somehow but now isn't the time to make a smartass comment about it. He tries to fight it, but he can't keep from smiling against her lips, dropping a few quick, playful kisses against her mouth before pulling back completely. "Not that I don't completely appreciate the lapse in sanity on your part--" "There are a laundry list of reasons why this is a bad idea, you get that, right?" "Ones you made up, yeah." "No. Completely legitimate reasons--" "Name one." "You're a pain in the ass." "Right back atcha." "Technically, I work for you." "Technically, you don't." "If this ends badly, Dylan--" "If the sky falls down tomorrow, Dylan's gonna--" "I haven't been in a relationship since I was seventeen. And well, you see how that ended up." "There it is," Justin sighs, wrapping his arms around her waist, fingers locking with hers. Charly plays nervously with his hands, not used to this kind of intimate contact, the kind that has very little to do with the actual physicality of it. She feels something drop in her stomach, that odd nauseous feeling she hasn't felt in a long time, and a childlike sense of excitement and fear fills her head. "If you didn't have some fucking comeback for everything, I would've gotten there a lot slower." "Keeps you from rambling my damn ears off this way," he flashes her a bright smile, sticking out his tongue at her. She tries, but can't keep the laugh from spilling out her throat. "I'm serious! I don't know how to do this and there's a solid chance I'm gonna be really, really bad at it." "Listen, I'm not asking you to marry me, woman. All I'm askin' is for you to quit being such a bitch and go out on a fucking DATE with me." Looking up at him, his eyes sparkling with mischief, all her excitement is replaced by the fear and more than that, in the back of her mind lingers one big way in which this situation will most definitely end badly. But the part of her that's tired of fighting this--whatever this is--wins out and she gives in, just this once. "Fine, but that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it." |
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insomniachollie |
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Posts: 36894 (09/30/2008 7:08 AM) Best Fan Fic Writer '08 |
As soon as I have a minute to sit down and have a proper catch up, I will be reading this. Just thought I'd warn you *lol*
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Maysam |
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Posts: 430 (09/30/2008 10:31 AM) |
Awesome chapter. Loved it so much. So glad that those two are together. Now her ass needs to tell Justin everything. LOL so he can help her
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glowbug narking tony |
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Posts: 4407 (09/30/2008 12:18 PM) |
Hollie, just bear in mind that that I started this when I was all kinds of blocked trying to write a screenplay for my thesis reading. That's my warning
right back to ya.
And I will be hiding while you read it.
And thaaaanks, Maysam. But she's a stubborn brat so I don't know how much she's gonna give up right off the bat, haha.
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ItalianHB |
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Posts: 2900 (09/30/2008 7:40 PM) |
hahaha i loved it!!! i love the fact that her daughter loves justin so much - its adorabl!!!! i can't wait for more!!!
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insomniachollie |
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Posts: 36960 (10/01/2008 5:51 PM) Best Fan Fic Writer '08 |
All done. So I take it from the warnings and hidings that this was your idea of bad, right?
Well, call me when you like what you write because if this is bad I keenly look forward to the good. In the mean time, I'll be reading this
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