Paper Dolls
Shadow of LA
I really didn’t have anywhere in mind... Mike (along with my freelance work) was pretty much my world... I mean, to him it was bad enough that I was the way I was... So really, I wasn’t allowed to have many friends... or any. God forbid I talk to someone with the same interests as me for a change.
God Scar, I thought silently, he treated you just as bad as your father, emotionally... Yeah, he didn’t hit you, but he still didn’t love and care for you...
For the first year, maybe two, he did love and care for me though, just to be clear... He wasn’t always an asshole.
Good riddance, I thought, kicking a can into the street.
I’d rather be homeless in LA, than anywhere else, though... This town is just amazing... There’s always something to do, and it never shuts down. Yeah, it can be dangerous, but so can I.
After about twenty minutes of aimless walking, I came up to what I like to call the best Italian restaurant in LA and walked in, my stomach was growling anyhow and I needed some pizza and a drink.
I ordered a slice of veggie pizza, some French fries and a beer, a well balanced meal, as you can see. I finished the pizza and was sort of picking at the fries, cursing why I’d ordered them--- I never really ate fries when I bought them, I’d have three and be done. I should’ve gotten the onion rings...
Taking a sip of my beer, I sighed, “God, I need a freaking cigarette,” I muttered.
No sooner had I said that, did someone tap my shoulder. “I think I can help you out with that,” I heard a boy say.
I turned ready to scold at the owner of the voice for being nosey in my pissed off state but instead, my expression softened and I smiled shyly, taking the cigarette and muttering a thanks.
I’d come face to face with not only the cutest boy I’d ever seen... but also the singer from one of two bands that I idolized and attributed in my tattoos.
He smiled and lit my cigarette for me before extending a hand, “I’m Mat.”
I took a drag, blowing the smoke away from him in a polite manner before shaking his hand, “I’m Scar, and I have to confess... I know who you are,” I said turning a bit pink.
“Well,” he smiled, “that always makes introductions a hell of a lot easier...”
I laughed lightly before motioning to my tattoo, “If I didn’t know who’s symbol that was, I’d pretty much be a tool.”
“Badass!” he grinned, looking over my arm work. “Do you have anymore?”
“Yeah, maybe I’ll let you see them sometime...” I smiled thinking to myself that life works mysteriously sometimes. Here I was, down and out after being kicked out of my apartment and somehow... I managed to sit next to Mat Devine and strike up a conversation.
Now he smirked, “That private?”
“Not too private,” I laughed before explaining, “It’s a back piece... I’m just not sure this restaurant would appreciate me stripping off my shirt.”
“Well, it would certainly turn some heads,” he laughed with a wink.
We continued to talk like that for hours, until the restaurant finally kicked us out after cleaning around us, but it didn’t deter the conversation. We simply decided to walk around LA.
“So, Scarlet, why was a girl like you sitting alone in a restaurant on a Saturday night, anyhow?” he asked suddenly, looking sideways at me with his hands stuffed into his pockets.
“Jeez,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “It’s a long story, Mat...”
“Well,” he smiled as he gave a shrug, “it’s early and I’m on vacation here for two weeks so if you can finish it within that time frame, I’d like to hear...”
“Well, to start off simple: My ex-boyfriend is a dick...” I shrugged before I started to tell him about Mike.
He was a really, really good listener and the type of person you could talk to for hours... and unlike every guy I’ve ever met... he actually cared about what I had to say. That’s despite having just met me and despite being in a pretty successful band, mind you.
Then we talked about his childhood, and how he hated high school and would’ve loved to just get his GED and I secretly thought to myself that I would’ve killed to go to highschool instead of getting my GED.
Soon, 5 am rolled around and we still hadn’t run out of things to talk about, but we had run out of energy.
“Scarlet,” he said softly as I yawned for what felt like the millionth time, “do you need a place to stay?”
I pondered that for a moment, I had never been so scared to accept someone’s help in my entire life... I mean, jeez, look at my track record with human contact.
“I’m not an asshole,” he offered almost knowingly as I contemplated the proposition.
“Alright,” I smiled with a shrug. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” he smiled before hailing a cab. “Everyone needs a friend in LA, right?”
I smiled... right.
God Scar, I thought silently, he treated you just as bad as your father, emotionally... Yeah, he didn’t hit you, but he still didn’t love and care for you...
For the first year, maybe two, he did love and care for me though, just to be clear... He wasn’t always an asshole.
Good riddance, I thought, kicking a can into the street.
I’d rather be homeless in LA, than anywhere else, though... This town is just amazing... There’s always something to do, and it never shuts down. Yeah, it can be dangerous, but so can I.
After about twenty minutes of aimless walking, I came up to what I like to call the best Italian restaurant in LA and walked in, my stomach was growling anyhow and I needed some pizza and a drink.
I ordered a slice of veggie pizza, some French fries and a beer, a well balanced meal, as you can see. I finished the pizza and was sort of picking at the fries, cursing why I’d ordered them--- I never really ate fries when I bought them, I’d have three and be done. I should’ve gotten the onion rings...
Taking a sip of my beer, I sighed, “God, I need a freaking cigarette,” I muttered.
No sooner had I said that, did someone tap my shoulder. “I think I can help you out with that,” I heard a boy say.
I turned ready to scold at the owner of the voice for being nosey in my pissed off state but instead, my expression softened and I smiled shyly, taking the cigarette and muttering a thanks.
I’d come face to face with not only the cutest boy I’d ever seen... but also the singer from one of two bands that I idolized and attributed in my tattoos.
He smiled and lit my cigarette for me before extending a hand, “I’m Mat.”
I took a drag, blowing the smoke away from him in a polite manner before shaking his hand, “I’m Scar, and I have to confess... I know who you are,” I said turning a bit pink.
“Well,” he smiled, “that always makes introductions a hell of a lot easier...”
I laughed lightly before motioning to my tattoo, “If I didn’t know who’s symbol that was, I’d pretty much be a tool.”
“Badass!” he grinned, looking over my arm work. “Do you have anymore?”
“Yeah, maybe I’ll let you see them sometime...” I smiled thinking to myself that life works mysteriously sometimes. Here I was, down and out after being kicked out of my apartment and somehow... I managed to sit next to Mat Devine and strike up a conversation.
Now he smirked, “That private?”
“Not too private,” I laughed before explaining, “It’s a back piece... I’m just not sure this restaurant would appreciate me stripping off my shirt.”
“Well, it would certainly turn some heads,” he laughed with a wink.
We continued to talk like that for hours, until the restaurant finally kicked us out after cleaning around us, but it didn’t deter the conversation. We simply decided to walk around LA.
“So, Scarlet, why was a girl like you sitting alone in a restaurant on a Saturday night, anyhow?” he asked suddenly, looking sideways at me with his hands stuffed into his pockets.
“Jeez,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “It’s a long story, Mat...”
“Well,” he smiled as he gave a shrug, “it’s early and I’m on vacation here for two weeks so if you can finish it within that time frame, I’d like to hear...”
“Well, to start off simple: My ex-boyfriend is a dick...” I shrugged before I started to tell him about Mike.
He was a really, really good listener and the type of person you could talk to for hours... and unlike every guy I’ve ever met... he actually cared about what I had to say. That’s despite having just met me and despite being in a pretty successful band, mind you.
Then we talked about his childhood, and how he hated high school and would’ve loved to just get his GED and I secretly thought to myself that I would’ve killed to go to highschool instead of getting my GED.
Soon, 5 am rolled around and we still hadn’t run out of things to talk about, but we had run out of energy.
“Scarlet,” he said softly as I yawned for what felt like the millionth time, “do you need a place to stay?”
I pondered that for a moment, I had never been so scared to accept someone’s help in my entire life... I mean, jeez, look at my track record with human contact.
“I’m not an asshole,” he offered almost knowingly as I contemplated the proposition.
“Alright,” I smiled with a shrug. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” he smiled before hailing a cab. “Everyone needs a friend in LA, right?”
I smiled... right.