Sex, Booze & Tattoos

Elvira

After watching some of the really terrible movies I’d acquired, it gets to a time of around seven pm.
“Ok I’m beat. That last movie sucked so bad and I think I’m drunk. Any suggestions?” I ask.
“Urrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmm….any suggestions for what?” Reagan raises her eyebrows.
“What to do next! Do you see it in my eyes?” I blurt.
Reagan moves from my side and sits on me, pulling my face into the light and staring into my eyes.
“See what?” she asks before I burst out laughing.
“I’m hungry, lets see what those fools are doing” I sigh pushing her off and getting up from bed.
“Drag queens!!”

As we reach the arena, Reagan announces to the band's manager that we will be conducting a couple of short interviews with the fans before and after the show.
"So don't think about leaving without us, you cunts!" She calls.
We grab our tape recorders, a syringe pen and a notepad each. The paperwork is for drawing on and looking important rather than being a useful working tool.
I notice my friend without her pass on, pick it up off the side and lasso it over her head and around her neck, momentarily choking her.
"Twat!" she coughs.
"I saved your ass" I say in a monotone as usual.
She punches my arm then runs out down the corridor and down the stairs by the stage, attracting the attention of a few fans already. I watch her getting checked out while she starts probing the first person she sees. I however scan for a pretty boy to harass. A few look my way causing me to smirk. I decide to sit on the edge of the stage, in full view of all envious fans and draw up a sketch for my next tattoo rather than do any work. Reagan can work, why should I?
I get totally lost in my vigorous pen work.
"How long have you been here?" Reagan pulls me from my own little world.
"Uh...dunno," I look up at her.
"Have you done any interviews?" she scolds down at me.
"Nah," I shrug casually "They're all gonna sound the same. There's no point."
"Well thanks very much," she heaves a sigh and strides off backstage once more.
I get up and follow, flipping my note book closed and rolling my pen between my index and middle fingers. We get into the dressing room and I am immediately flung onto an empty sofa.
"I thought I was going mad! Why did you steal my jacket?" Joey demands, making me jump right out of my skin.
I look down and realise the black leather jacket is slightly bigger than mine amongst other differences.
"Woops, sorry I didn't realise," I reply, shrugging it off and laying it on the sofa's arm. "There was no need to throw me around though."
"Sorry," he huffs, turning back to the mirror, eyeliner in hand.
"You will be if you do it again," I mutter darkly, swinging my feet to the floor and smoothing down my Ministry t-shirt.
"What was that?" he spins back around.
"I said, you will be sorry if you do it again," I repeat, clearly and unafraid of whatever he could possibly attempt to do to my person.
"Bitch," he growls, finishing his eye makeup and taking a drink from his beer.
"Cock sucker," I reply.
"She's got a right mouth on her," Craig complains.
"Yeah and I can do more than one thing with it too," I sneer.
"Speaking of cock suckers," Joey grins at me, obviously thinking I just got given my own line back.
"Shut the fuck up or you'll be licking mine," I snap.
"Oh yeah...get it out then," he retorts, finishing his drink.
"Get a plate."
"Your dick wouldn't be worth a plate even if you had one."
"Well whether I do or not, it'll always be more impressive than yours."
"Oh yeah, try me."
"Blow me."
"Bite me."
With that, I leap off the sofa, grab his shirt and throw him to the ground. The ease must be because he wasn't expecting it. I kneel on his chest, clamping one arm down with my leg and hold the other away while writing cunt across his face with the nearest writing instrument I could find. The 't' gets smeared as he throws me off but everyone laughs at my handy work. I jump back to my feet and notice that it was in fact a sharpie marker in my grasp.
"You fucking whore, I'm gonna fucking kill you!" he yells, seeing the sharpie that I am staring at, grinning maliciously.
I decide that this would be a good time to run.
I throw the door open and speed down the hall in six inch platform Mary Jane shoes. I've never had much luck outrunning anyone but I can't hear him behind me. I look over my shoulder for second and see him white in the face and at my heels looking madder than ever. My eyes flip back in front of me as I skid around a corner and notice a freshly mopped floor with a yellow sign over it. Breaking distance is gonna be quite a long one as I try to stop myself toppling over the wet.
"Fuck no!" I scream, skidding over the drenched floor.
"Shit!" he yells, he grabs my wrist before slipping onto the water and almost pulls my arm out of the socket as he tries to anchor me. anchoring works but I can't do vertical. Unlucky for him, he falls down too.
"Look what you've done now!" we both yell at each other simultaneously more or less.
"What I did?" chorusing again.
"If you hadn't written on me then we wouldn't be here now!"
"If you hadn't chased me, we wouldn't be here now!"
"If you hadn't pissed me off I wouldn't have chased you!"
"Get fucked, Jordison!" I hiss.
"If you're offering," he says after a pause. There's a silence apart from our heavy breathing.
"You wish," I scoff, looking up from the floor and into his eyes. I have no idea why we are still on the floor.
He leans towards me slowly, still heavily breathing. I'm not drunk, but caught up in the moment, I also lean forwards and without another thought our lips connect. Once is enough. I'm not having another guilt trip off Reagan. I pull away as soon as she flashes into my head.

Reagan

"Alright, where the fuck are they?" I say, looking around the room of eight men for an answer.
"Maybe they got abducted" Sid offers.
"Ok, anyone but him got an answer?" I ignore the nut job.
Nothing.
I get up from the arm of the sofa and look through the doorway, down the corridor both ways until Elvira comes into view with her mirror in her hand, gazing at her reflection. She snaps it shut and looks up, catching me.
I grumble to myself, she looks shifty, and I find myself sitting down on Mick.
"Well hello there," I widen my eyes. He gives me a strange look, "What? Have I got shit on my face?"
Moments later, a Miss. DeMona appears around the door with bright shiny red lips. Who's she trying to impress? Behind her is Joey who glances around the room and shrugs before resuming his seat.
Not long after, after being hit on a record of twelve times in half an hour, the band disappear to the stage leaving Elvira and myself to be hostile alone.
Five minutes and the silence is unbearable.
"Alright, fuck it! what did you do? Please don't tell me you fucked!" I practically scream at her.
"Reagan!" she shrieks, taken aback by the outburst. "I didn't fuck him alright! Like I'd want you being all fucking moody on me again as if its PMS times a thousand."
"Then what did you do?" rage still obvious in my voice.
She stays silent, studying my face. This is what she does when she's trying to decide whether to play with me or not.