Post by Cherry Vega on Mar 6, 2022 2:20:27 GMT -5
"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
The words echoed inCharlotte Cherry Wiśniewski's ears as she stared out the train's window, eyes locked on the mural of Saint Vincent de Paul that overlooked the Fullerton Red Line Station. Her eyes darted to her cell phone's blank screen, inspecting the ashen cross on her forehead in its reflection.
"I'm still surprised you're comin' out with us tonight," teased the diminutive twink seated next to her as he leaned his way into the narrow field of reflection. "Tis the season and all."
Cherry rolled her eyes at the remark, flipping her companion the bird.
"I gave up smoking for Lent, thank you very much!" she added with a chortle.
"Right, you're blessing your lungs 'til Easter, and trashing your liver instead."
"You're an asshole, Adam."
A shit-eating grin spread across his face as Cherry's cheeks reddened. "Who ever said you couldn't be a dick and a swallower?"
There was a lull in the conversation, then as if on cue, both of them erupted, cackling like hyenas at the remark as some of the other commuters' attention fell upon them. Pressured by the silent shushing, they fell quiet once more.
"We're still heading to Brando's, right?"
"Yeah, Tess'll meet us there."
"And Matty?"
"He'll swing by when he's out of class."
Cherry's lips curled into an impish grin. "And you're going to make a move, right?"
Adam scoffed. "Maybe you put out on the first date, but some of us have standards, hun."
She responded with a 'playful' punch to his shoulder. His smirk didn't fade, as he rubbed the new sore spot.
"God, I need this."
"Is Alice comin' out tonight?" he asked, as if a lightbulb switched on in his head.
"Oh, nah," Cherry began. "I think she flew straight out to NOLA. It'd be cheaper that way, considering our travel doesn't get comped."
Adam cocked his head, eyes narrowing.
"It's either industry standard for this pay-per-appearance deal we're on, or we're getting fucked. Probably both," she added with a shrug.
"Sounds like it."
The train pulled to a momentary stop at North/Clybourn, the car becoming more cramped as a wave of commuters piled in.
"But hey, it's cool as shit that you're getting fight a fuckin' star like Sam Kidsgrove, ain't it?"
Cherry opened her mouth, but bit her tongue instead.
"Think you could swing an autograph for me? I mean I know it'd be kinda awk considering the circumstance but he seems like the kinda guy who would—"
"He's a fucking prick."
Adam's mouth clenched shut immediately, allowing the chattering of the passengers to fill the space around them as Cherry crossed her arms.
"I mean, that's the lowdown on him— everything that comes out of his mouth just oozes smarm and condescension. And that's when he's being 'nice'. He's one of the biggest stars in Hollywood and he carries himself like Jason Beghe."
"Oh, is this about the thing with the hotel guy in Atlantic City? That's hearsay and you know it!"
"It's about everything!" she exclaimed, earning another pull of the passengers' eyes, hushing her to a whisper, barely audible as the train rolled over the tracks.
"Look, I know you stan him — and I say this with love, bro: get some taste — but it's fucking everything with Kidsgrove. The way he carries himself, the way he looks down his nose at everyone without a smidgeon of self-awareness, the fucking audacity to sneer and lecture someone like Lissie Hope about hard work when he's a silver-spooned child star who's never wanted for anything in his life."
Her lips twitched downward, and she exhaled deeply.
"It's about how I know he hasn't bothered learning my name. Because I'm not on his level, I don't exist to him. I'm a tag team wrestler on a pittance contract thrust into the first single's match of my career. And if he even takes a second out of his busy day jerking himself off about his newfound fire to even acknowledge my existence, there's gonna be three words on his tongue: Harbor Point Estates, if he even bothers to Google that one. Just as likely he'd settle for an 'awroight, Cherry Vega then innit,' and some snide remark about how Alice and I probably shouldn't even stick to making music. It's like, yeah hun, maybe we'll do that the second you fuck off back to TERF Island, freak.
"I hope he does Google it, though. Because I can just hear the vitriol now: if I thought he was a condescending jackass before, wait til he finds out where ya girl grew up. Insufferable. Smug. Dipshit."
Adam huffed, cutting his compatriot off. "Now you're just being petty."
"No I'm not, it's right out of his playbook. He'll spin his boo-hoo rich people problems as the most severe thing in the world, frame himself as the ultimate survivor for overcoming them, and in the same breath dismiss the adversities faced by anyone from a social strata that can't relate to the specific reason why George Harrison wrote Taxman.
"He's been blessed with overwhelming success in not one, but two of the most cutthroat and notorious industries in the world, and it's made him an unbearable jagoff who's at his toughest when it comes to throwing vitriol at service workers who can't fight back."
She drew a sharp inhale, ignorant to the one of the passengers across from her filming the tirade on their cell-phone.
"But guess what? When I step into the ring with him, I will fight back. I'll stare him dead in the eyes — on my tip-toes and looking up, sure — and I'll sock him right in his goddamn nose. And if he wants to think he's above me, that's perfectly fine.
"It'll be all the easier to take his legs out from under him."
The train came to a stop once more: Jackson. She nudged Adam, demeanor completely changed.
"This is us."
The words echoed in
"I'm still surprised you're comin' out with us tonight," teased the diminutive twink seated next to her as he leaned his way into the narrow field of reflection. "Tis the season and all."
Cherry rolled her eyes at the remark, flipping her companion the bird.
"I gave up smoking for Lent, thank you very much!" she added with a chortle.
"Right, you're blessing your lungs 'til Easter, and trashing your liver instead."
"You're an asshole, Adam."
A shit-eating grin spread across his face as Cherry's cheeks reddened. "Who ever said you couldn't be a dick and a swallower?"
There was a lull in the conversation, then as if on cue, both of them erupted, cackling like hyenas at the remark as some of the other commuters' attention fell upon them. Pressured by the silent shushing, they fell quiet once more.
"We're still heading to Brando's, right?"
"Yeah, Tess'll meet us there."
"And Matty?"
"He'll swing by when he's out of class."
Cherry's lips curled into an impish grin. "And you're going to make a move, right?"
Adam scoffed. "Maybe you put out on the first date, but some of us have standards, hun."
She responded with a 'playful' punch to his shoulder. His smirk didn't fade, as he rubbed the new sore spot.
"God, I need this."
"Is Alice comin' out tonight?" he asked, as if a lightbulb switched on in his head.
"Oh, nah," Cherry began. "I think she flew straight out to NOLA. It'd be cheaper that way, considering our travel doesn't get comped."
Adam cocked his head, eyes narrowing.
"It's either industry standard for this pay-per-appearance deal we're on, or we're getting fucked. Probably both," she added with a shrug.
"Sounds like it."
The train pulled to a momentary stop at North/Clybourn, the car becoming more cramped as a wave of commuters piled in.
"But hey, it's cool as shit that you're getting fight a fuckin' star like Sam Kidsgrove, ain't it?"
Cherry opened her mouth, but bit her tongue instead.
"Think you could swing an autograph for me? I mean I know it'd be kinda awk considering the circumstance but he seems like the kinda guy who would—"
"He's a fucking prick."
Adam's mouth clenched shut immediately, allowing the chattering of the passengers to fill the space around them as Cherry crossed her arms.
"I mean, that's the lowdown on him— everything that comes out of his mouth just oozes smarm and condescension. And that's when he's being 'nice'. He's one of the biggest stars in Hollywood and he carries himself like Jason Beghe."
"Oh, is this about the thing with the hotel guy in Atlantic City? That's hearsay and you know it!"
"It's about everything!" she exclaimed, earning another pull of the passengers' eyes, hushing her to a whisper, barely audible as the train rolled over the tracks.
"Look, I know you stan him — and I say this with love, bro: get some taste — but it's fucking everything with Kidsgrove. The way he carries himself, the way he looks down his nose at everyone without a smidgeon of self-awareness, the fucking audacity to sneer and lecture someone like Lissie Hope about hard work when he's a silver-spooned child star who's never wanted for anything in his life."
Her lips twitched downward, and she exhaled deeply.
"It's about how I know he hasn't bothered learning my name. Because I'm not on his level, I don't exist to him. I'm a tag team wrestler on a pittance contract thrust into the first single's match of my career. And if he even takes a second out of his busy day jerking himself off about his newfound fire to even acknowledge my existence, there's gonna be three words on his tongue: Harbor Point Estates, if he even bothers to Google that one. Just as likely he'd settle for an 'awroight, Cherry Vega then innit,' and some snide remark about how Alice and I probably shouldn't even stick to making music. It's like, yeah hun, maybe we'll do that the second you fuck off back to TERF Island, freak.
"I hope he does Google it, though. Because I can just hear the vitriol now: if I thought he was a condescending jackass before, wait til he finds out where ya girl grew up. Insufferable. Smug. Dipshit."
Adam huffed, cutting his compatriot off. "Now you're just being petty."
"No I'm not, it's right out of his playbook. He'll spin his boo-hoo rich people problems as the most severe thing in the world, frame himself as the ultimate survivor for overcoming them, and in the same breath dismiss the adversities faced by anyone from a social strata that can't relate to the specific reason why George Harrison wrote Taxman.
"He's been blessed with overwhelming success in not one, but two of the most cutthroat and notorious industries in the world, and it's made him an unbearable jagoff who's at his toughest when it comes to throwing vitriol at service workers who can't fight back."
She drew a sharp inhale, ignorant to the one of the passengers across from her filming the tirade on their cell-phone.
"But guess what? When I step into the ring with him, I will fight back. I'll stare him dead in the eyes — on my tip-toes and looking up, sure — and I'll sock him right in his goddamn nose. And if he wants to think he's above me, that's perfectly fine.
"It'll be all the easier to take his legs out from under him."
The train came to a stop once more: Jackson. She nudged Adam, demeanor completely changed.
"This is us."