After a very droll and conservative interview with the press, I’d returned to my hotel room. I had some phone calls to make before I headed out to find some trouble to get in to. Well… the trouble usually came to me but Hell, you know what I mean.
I slumped down on the couch and reached my hand back to grasp the phone off the table behind the sofa. I dialed Demonica’s number in Alaska. Was it sad that I knew the number off by heart? I thought not. Demonica was probably the only thing I had as a friend, other than Seraph. I put the receiver to my ear, holding it there with my shoulder as I lit a cigarette and turned down the television set.
"Talk to me." Demonica's voice sounded less than enthusiastic. I smirked faintly, settling back into the couch and drawing from my cigarette.
“Oh cheer up, cheri, I know you miss me but try to perk up a bit, oui?” I laughed fully into the phone. Originally, I had intended to imply that my dear friend was fucking Darkstar again, but she’d probably stab me through the phone. “It’s been crazy here, Demmy. I just got swarmed by the press outside my hotel!”
"Well it's a mob scene here as well. It's a sea of people outside the front gate. I went out and played with the press for a little while though." She laughed as she finished her last sentence. I chortled along with her as well, nodding in agreement though I knew she couldn’t see me.
“I should have come with you to Alaska. Then they’d only have to go to one place!” I grinned fully and it was no doubt heard in my voice. “I was playing around with them, too. Some ass-wipe, newbie, field reporter said he couldn’t get in touch with me. Did they say that about you, as well?” I tilted my head to the side, curling my lips around the filter of the cigarette and drawing back a heavy pull. She laughed again as if Gwen had suddenly become a stand up comic.
"They said exactly that and tried to sign up. I was standing right next to him after he said it." Her signature smirk could be felt, even through the phone. I smirked when I heard her laughing so hard. Sometimes, it was good to laugh. The stress level was high for both of us, no doubt, though neither one of us would admit it allowed.
“Yeah, I heard them talking about me on the television so I went into the parking lot where they were all set up. They were all saying the exact same stories, did ya notice that?” I rolled my eyes and sighed listlessly, the smoke filtering out passed my lips. “So I called him a fuckin’ liar. I didn’t even get messages that somebody wanted to talk to me. Morons.” I muttered beneath my breath. It was quite obvious that the art of true journalism and reporting was lost. All people cared about were stories, false or not. Greedy mother fuckers.
"All press is good press my friend....well unless you are Michael Jackson." I snorted rather unladylike into the receiver, trying to withstand a laugh. It failed as I began to chuckle. Had my camera-shy, interview-hating friend switched sides on me? I thought not.
“Yes, yes. Or Kobe Bryant, I assume. Too bad there’s so many god damned cameras.” I smirked faintly, resting the back of my head against the sofa. “What are we gonna do, Demmy? Should we not hold any more interviews just for the mystery factor? Or should we drag ourselves out every morning? They won’t lay off until they have their stories.” I said as-a-matter-of-factly. Her tone became wicked as she replied.
"We do whatever we feel like as always. So have fun with it." She replied to me. I chuckled faintly, letting out a light hmpf.
“Touché. Bah. Looks like I’m a recluse again.” I wrinkled my nose. At this point, I would have done anything to avoid the press, including killing all of them. Don’t believe me? Corner me with a bunch of cameras and find out. “Lucky bitch, you have your friend with you.” I pouted, and it would resound through the other side of the phone, blatantly.
"Fuck him right now. I'm alone till this guy I met comes over." There was a bitterness to her tone that came out of nowhere. Naturally, being the caring individual I was, I wasn’t going to let it go.
“Some guy is going to break through the line of press for you? Stop joking!” I said with a faint laugh, trying to get her to relax. “All right, seriously. What happened, cheri?” I knew now was not the time for sex jokes with Darkstar. Pity. They were the best kind. “And what guy, young lady? You got some s’plainin’ to do!” She just mumbled to herself in reply.
"Darkstar isn't Darkstar. Stupid Villana bitch." I frowned slightly. I had no clue what this Villana ‘bitch’ was but I had no doubt in my mind that it was the thing Darkstar had warned me about a few weeks ago after he bailed us out. Then, as if the comments never happened, she answered the other question. “Just this guy named Johnny I met in the cemetery the other day, and yes he would fight through a crowd to come over." I nodded again.
“Now do I have rights to sing that you have a boyfriend?” I didn’t even give her a chance to reply. “Demmy’s got a boyfriend, Demmy’s got a boyfriend.” I chuckled softly, tilting my head to the side. “So… details, woman! Don’t keep me waiting then!” I settled back, butting out my cigarette in the tray as I waited for her to reply. No doubt, she would call me a bitch or something of that nature and then continue on with her answers. Because if she didn’t… (insert idle threat here)
"Are we in fifth grade....damn it.” I grinned victoriously.
“Yes. Yes we are. Now spill.” I heard her sigh on the other end of the line, sending up the white flag as it were.
“He's a martial artist like me and also a juggalo. He likes wrestling but he doesn't seem all super fan boy or anything. He's athletic but with his blond ponytail and trench coat I took him for a Highlander reject when he first started talking to me. Nothing more to tell. Satisfied bitch?" Her mood seemed to improve at least. I smirked again.
“Yes. Yes I am. Look at it this way: at least you’re not holding a school-girl crush on some guy you’ve fucked once. Or twice… or three times…” I drifted off in thought, for a moment or two before returning back to my conversation with Demonica. “So, a Highlander reject, eh? I always thought that blonde chap in the End Game movie was a cutie. So what were you doing in the cemetery after dark? Tsk, tsk.” She snorted at my words, much like I had earlier.
"Sounds like I'm not the only one with a possible relationship of sorts forming.” I hunched forward, pressing my elbows upon my thighs.
“Me? Relationship? Hardly. ‘Sides, he’s got a girlfriend as far as I know. We’re just… fuck friends, or something. Oh Hell, I don’t even know.” I shrugged though it wasn’t seen.
“Oh and who said it was after dark. It was 10am. I couldn't sleep." I laughed faintly. My friends? Up before noon? My friends? In relationships?
“Who are you and what have you done with my Demmy?” I chuckled a bit, teasingly. “Meeting in a cemetery of all places. I suppose it could be worse. I mean, by all stretches of the imagination, it could be worse.” I was teasing her so bad. I did so enjoy getting her riled. I knew she couldn’t stay mad at me. So, I pushed my luck while pretty much stabbed her buttons.
"My hating someone is considered a relationship of sorts even so it doesn’t mean anything at the moment. Thank you very much." Then the bitterness returned in full force. "Besides I'm not the fucker who's changed. God damn him!" I winced faintly again. One step over the line. Hell, I just tangoed into enemy territory.
“Oh, calm down, Demmy. I’m just teasing. I’m sure DS has his reasons. What has he done exactly?” With a heavy sigh she half-assed went into it.
"He stopped being him for some little bitch." I raised my brow faintly. I didn’t know DS very well but I could no doubt be able to tell when he wasn’t himself.
“Ever thought that he might have been doing it for your protection? I’ve seen other people do it…” There was a hint of guilt in her voice, though it was quickly covered up by a thoughtful ‘hmm’.
"This isn't for his protection. He's no longer painting his face, refuses to train me, took down the boards inside the house, and wears dress shirts all the time. He said he was happy and the rage was gone and he had the monster locked in it's fucking box. I don't know who the person is that is inhabiting his body, but I want them to get the fuck out!" I sank into the couch a bit, letting out a sigh of frustration, rubbing my face faintly.
“Well, cheri, all I can suggest is that you sit him down and have a flat-out, violent-if-need-be conversation. Challenge him to try and kick your ass. Hell. How about this. Next week, after our court date, I’ll come up to Alaska with you, just to supervise you kiddies in the pool.” After another sigh she replied again less bitter and more sadly frustrated than anything.
"I don't wanna think about it for the moment. Let's talk about that later. Anyway I gotta go Gwen. Johnny should be over soon and I'm still not dressed." I nodded a bit into the phone.
“Yes, yes. Go put on a bra for once. Talk to you later, cheri.” I replied before hanging up the phone so she wouldn’t have the chance to send back a barb. I settled back into the couch, gazing up at the ceiling.
