Status: Finished. No sequel.

Hypocrite

On the Dumpsters

“He should be here soon.”

I looked up and across the booth, my cigarette dangling loosely from my fingers. Terra, my closest friend, sat across from me, fidgeting with her purse nervously. Her friend - date I should say - was supposed to meet us here a few minutes ago. I suggested we come fashionably late, but Terra wanted to come early and get a bit of liquid courage in her. I couldn't blame her, though. She was talking this guy up like he was king-shit or something.

Normally, I would be at home working. I do commissioned artwork, and my schedule is usually pretty packed. Get in with the right people, and rich assholes are eating right out of your hands. I let my hand trail to my bag, where I had my supplies stashed - a few pills, and a pre-rolled joint. I hate to say it, but drugs were what made me successful in my line of work. Pop a few, play the tortured artist, and you were painting pure gold.

“Oh, there’s Frank now!” Terra practically bounced in her seat, and I hurriedly reached my hand back on the table, towards my light drink. No getting smashed tonight; Terra set me up on a double date with her boy-toy’s friend. I didn't want to end up naked in his bed tomorrow morning.

“Hello, Ladies,” Frank was cute, I guessed. He had eyes like a teddy bear, and his smile was perfectly curved. His hair was black and short, but his bangs were parted to the side and a bit longer. Just how Terra liked them; covered in body modifications. I looked over Frank’s shoulder, hoping my date was a bit more tame.

I would say it was love at first sight, but it honestly wasn't even close. He was good looking; no tattoos and not a single piercing. His hair was black and hung around his face, also parted to the side. He was almost as pale as I was, and his clothes were pretty nondescript. He didn't like to stand out. Good, I didn't either. I scooted farther into the booth, and my “date” took the seat next to me.

“Um, Frank, this is Iris. Iris, this is Frank Iero,” Frank’s pretty smile came across the table again, and he reached an inked hand over for me to shake.

“Nice to meet you. The guy next to you is Gerard, he’s kind of being an ass tonight. I can be your date too, if he disappoints.”

“Thanks for the offer, but then who would be Gerard’s date?” I countered, taking Frank’s hand and giving it one pump. Retracting my hand, I took another sip of my drink and dug through my bag for another cigarette. Lifting my head, I saw Gerard’s gaze break from my purse. He’d seen what was inside, and I almost missed the smile that passed across his lips.

“That’s true. Offer still stands. That is, if Terra here wants to share,” Terra gave me a mock glare, and the three of us laughed lightly. Frank went to grab another round of drinks for us, and of course Terra followed after. That left Gerard and me in the booth, somewhat awkwardly.

“So, what do you do?” I asked offhandedly, fumbling with my cheap lighter and igniting the end of the cigarette briefly. Gerard gave me a grateful smile, probably thankful that I had broken our lame silence.

“I don’t do a lot. Spend most of my time watching television or listening to music.”

“That’s cool. I actually meant for work, though,” I laughed around my cigarette, maneuvering it to the corner of my mouth. Gerard sputtered for a bit, before scrambling for his own pack of Marlboros.

“Oh, I uh… I do comic work. Art and stuff like that. At Dark Horse.”

“Yeah? I do art to. Commissioned stuff, though. I do work for the rich assholes of America. Someone caught on that I’m a depressed, struggling artist, and now everyone’s scrambling for my work.”

“Depressed? They probably think you’re going to kill yourself and want to get something before you’re gone. I mean, you probably have talent, otherwise they wouldn't care, but-”

“Don’t cover it up, I know what you meant. It’s exactly what I’m going for. Call me a cheap and heartless bitch, but being a depressed and suicidal artist is exactly how I make myself out to be. It makes me money,” I said as if it were nothing. Something flashed in Gerard’s expression, but it was too quick for me to decipher. By this time, Frank and Terra returned to the table with drinks in hand, laughing and tittering amongst themselves.

“Gerard doesn't look so angry anymore. I knew you were an angel, Iris.”

“What can I say?”

Image


I only had two drinks on Terra and Frank’s seven, when Gerard reached for my hand and pulled me from the booth. He walked with purpose, so I let him lead me along. He obviously knew where he was going; he had the same amount of alcohol I did, and I wasn't even buzzed.

When we got outside, he took me around the side of the building. I opened my mouth to ask if he was going to rape me, but instead he gestured to my purse, “So you aren't going to rape me. Rob me, then?”

“I saw what you had in there earlier.”

“My lipstick? I didn't know you were into that, Gerard. I won’t judge you, I think Ruby would look nice on you-” He rolled his eyes and jammed a hand into my bag, pulling out the joint and waving it in my face.

“I know you didn't want to be in there as much as I didn't. So let’s light this up and we can stop beating around the bush, alright?”

“Alright,” I laughed, pulling my lighter out of my bag and flicking it on, “I’ll even let you have the first pull. I’m such a good host.”

“You are. Real pretty, too.”

“You fucking charmer. Keep that up and I might just take my panties off,” I held the lighter of to the joint, and it lit easily. Without skipping a beat, Gerard took the first drag and passed it off to me. I took mine as well, and the two of us climbed to sit on top of the dumpster.

“How does a date sound?” He looked over to me, running a hand through his hair and pushing the sweaty mass off his forehead. He was cuter without his hair in his face. It made him seem less withdrawn - more confident in himself. I threw him a skeptical look, unsure of his motives. He might just want to use me for my drugs - I’ll make him bring it next time.

“An actual date? Or are we just going to sneak out and smoke pot on top of a dumpster again?”

“Probably a mix of both. I don’t want you to think I’m a complete heathen.”
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Oh hey. I'm back. Probably. Comments will remind me to update, but I'll probably update without them, anyway. You go, Glen Coco.