My Little Cheesecake

Gwen's jaw dropped, almost literally to her feet, while she was trying to figure out if she should cry or laugh, or both, at the sight of her one year younger friend. She sure knew how to use that pole, there were no questions about it. Gwen just wasn't sure if she wanted her there of all places. Well, she knew that there was no way in hell to get Sammy down from that spot.

"My God, have she been practicing or something?" Betty added after taking a zip from her glass of vodka, that she really shouldn't have been drinking, according to the law. During the night, she'd exclaimed in various Russian sentences here and there. Everyone around her supposed that that was the consequence of vodka for her.

"I have no idea, but now I see why she was so out of breath at times when I called," Gwen's replied to Betty's question, still with raised eyebrows. "But where has she been hiding a fucking pole?"

"I concur to that question," Betty said and raised her glass to the ceiling. With a bump, Sammy flew down on the seat beside Gwen at the table, who desperately did anything in her power to cover up Sammy's way to low cleavage.

"Gwen! You should try to live life a little bit, baby!" Sammy said, and took a quick zip from Betty's glass, making a grin as her consequence from drinking it. Gwen shrieked and snatched the glass from Sammy's hand.

"You're not supposed to drink! Neither of you are 21 yet, it's not fucking legal."

"Gwen, will you just relax a little. You knew this would happen when we stepped our feet into this place," Betty said, taking back the glass of vodka.

"Can you two just act it out that you are a little bit responsible after all, for me? Please?" Gwen frowned a little bit after her words. Sammy had pulled the nearest young guy to her face, and they were now exchanging saliva generously. He didn't seem to have any problems with it.

"I have just one thing to say to you, Gwen; Tvoya mamu, moya grelka." Betty said as she put the glass on the table, and she was actually glaring at Gwen. Maybe that was another bad consequence of the alcohol?

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"You mom is my bed warmer."

"Ouch, that hurt," Gwen said, and knew that she probably shouldn't take it too seriously, but things like that still burn a little. She shrugged it off quickly, just because of the alcohol involving. Betty would be very lovable in an hour or two. "I'm just gonna go somewhere where I can't bother you, and like, make a call."

She left the table, and was almost on her way of bumping into a stranger in the doorway on her way out. Alright, maybe it was the sort of anxiety-attack she hadn't had before the trip yet, that was starting to creep in on her. She looked at her phone and wondered if it was the right thing to call Brendon or not. She hesitated to press the green button, time and time again.

"Call the dude," a female voice said behind her. She was completely tacken by surprise and turned around to face a dark-haired woman, leaning against the wall and easily taking a drag for her cigarette.

"Huh?" If Gwen had been on a better mood, she'd probably said hello first, but now she was just confused.

"I said; call the dude. I can see it in the way you are shilly-shallying, I tell you. Been there, done that."

"Oh, I don't know, maybe later."

"Alright, only if you do it," the woman said, took another drag and leaned her head against the brick wall.

"Sorry, I'm Gwen and new in town," Gwen said and reached out her hand toward her.

"I've so noticed, you've got no idea. This place ain't big just because it's a suburb to some shitass huge city." She took Gwen's hand and shook with all of her heart.

"You're not gonna tell me your name?"

"Oops, sorry love, Jo's the name."

"Just Jo?"

"I suppose it's supposed to be some sort of shortening of a name, and yes, it is, but you can just call me Jo." She put out the cigarette on the ground, and stomped on it a little extra with her foot. "So, what brings you to out charming little dump?"

"You're exaggerating now, this is way better than a dump, you haven't got trash on your streets of what I can see."

"Okay, but why are you here?"

"We're on a road trip and we're stopping by at my cousin."

"Who your cousin then?"

"Jake, you know him?"

"Sure I do, well, not that good, but we definitely say hi to each other walking down the streets."

"Awesome." Gwen was now standing beside Jo, leaning in the same relaxed way. She liked that woman, as she could feel that they had a lot of things in common. She offered Gwen a cigarette, but she shyly turned it down. Jo just shrugged her shoulder, lit up a new one, and took a deep breath.

"Y'know, I should really go home and do a 'Nicky Wire'." Gwen didn't think much of the hint of her Manics-knowledge.

"Do a what?"

"'Nicky Wire', clean baby, he's got like OCD or something, and owns a lot of vacuum cleaners."

"Hang on a minute. You like Manic Street Preachers so much you know that?"

"No, I love Manic Street Preachers so much I would go out any day to search for Richey if the clues were given to me."

"I definitely have someone you need to talk to."

"Oyeah, who?"

"If you just go inside, and look for a read-head, waving a bottle of vodka in the air, singing something in Russian, you've got your long lost fellow Manics-lover."

"Are you serious?" Jo was ecstatic, now facing Gwen and smiling so much. "People around here don't tend to know much about the Holy Bible."

Gwen smiled and confirmed the existence of her friend Betty, and asked her to drag whatever girl dancing at the pole away from it, (she knew there would only be one), and Jo told her she would be glad to do it, even tough she would start off on the wrong track with Sammy. She took the last drag and went into the pub again, leaving Gwen leaning toward the wall by herself. Though merely seconds later, Jo peeked back again around the corner.

"You're gonna call him?" She looked very tricky, while Gwen didn't know what to say.

"I suppose so."

"Just do it, girl, I've got your back." She winked at her, and then she was gone again. Gwen stood there with the cellphone in her hand. What did she have to lose anyway? Why didn't she just do it? She pressed the button, and waited, listening to the tones on the other end, and hoped that someone would pick up.

"Heeeeeeello," she heard the familiar voice of Brendon say. He sounded tired, though as spirited as he always was.

"Babe, it was like ages since we last talked."

"I know, I know, I know, but I've really tried to find myself, y'know, the real Brendon Boyd. I think I'm on the right track, man."

"You say so? Then I just have to say that I'm at my cousin Jake's area, just chillin'. Just picked up a date for Betty, right from the streets."

"Your supercool cousin Jake? And why do you get prostitutes for Betty?"

"She wasn't a prostitute, just this really cool chick that happened to adore Manics."

"Okay, so you made Betty's evening. But what's up with you?"

"I don't know. I just miss you, that's all." There was a brief silence on the other end, as if someone was thinking, deeply.

"I miss you too. The vibe here is just so different. Only guys, y'know, but we'll be back again in your couch someday soon, right?"

"I really hope so. But I've got to go now, to see what happened to Sammy and that strip pole."

"Wait! What, a strip pole? Is she any good?"

"Oyeah, she's the best. Maybe she'll show it to you someday."

"Yeah, the day I find her walking around, high on drugs."