Wishes Washed Away
eight.
Give me patience.
Flash.
Give me foot tapping.
Flash.
Give me "hurry up, Brendon".
Flash.
He couldn't possibly take any longer to say goodbye to his friends. It's not like I do this to him. Well, actually, that's not true; I'd probably just do that for fun.
If he's doing that to me, I'll throttle him.
He jogs to the Volvo, and I sit there, patiently. I lock the doors as he walks up, and he glares. I shrug my shoulders, and Brendon taps on the glass. I wave. He points to the lock, and I stare. Again, Brendon points angrily at the lock, but I start to whistle. "Maggie, open the door!" His muffled cry means nothing.
"You kept me waiting, so I'll keep you waiting." He scowls. "I'll just sit here and waste your time, so you'll learn a lesson."
"Maggie, if you don't open this door, I'll make sure Reum fires you, and hires someone else to be in that movie!"
"Oh, that could never happen; they're pretty close to production." My nails could really use a manicure. God, they look awful now. Maybe electric blue with some white stars would compliment that dress I bought two weeks ago... "He could never replace me."
"Oh? Why do you think that?" He crosses his arms.
"Katie Holmes is being suppressed by Tom Cruise." I unlock the doors, and he climbs in. "Are you going to call him now?"
He grips the steering wheel. "God, if you weren't such a bitch..."
"Then what?"
"Maybe I'd actually like you." He revs the engine, and off we go back to that dump he calls a home. I could really use a bubble bath...lavender scent, please.
> >
"Miss Magnolia Cartwright has been spotted--"
"Magnolia Cartwright, main character in the new movie--"
"Edward Norton's girlfriend, Magnolia Cartwright--"
"Magnolia Cartwright, model and now-turned actress--"
I'm so sick of the television. I almost throw the remote at the little convex screen, but Brendon grabs it out of my hand. Cartoon Network, and he sits to watch "Tom and Jerry". Cartoon violence is so childish.
Give me angry.
Flash.
Give me pissed.
Flash.
Give me "I don't have a boyfriend".
Flash.
How are these people finding pictures of Brendon and me this quickly? We're on Perez Hilton again, this time with white dripping down my face. More pictures of Raquel and Ignacio, but this time, it's about them breaking up. Raquel sent me a text about it.
I told her to get over herself, but it didn't send.
"Hey, I'm going to use your computer." I start up the stairs, and Brendon's on my tail. "What? I promise I won't be looking at gay porn or anything." He stops.
"You're officially the weirdest and bitchiest person I've ever encountered." He passes me up to his room, and I follow. The computer boots up, and there's an awkward silence. Brendon types in his password (by the way, it's "password"), slowly but surely, and then offers me the plush computer chair. "Just don't download any computer viruses. I'm a singer, not a millionaire."
I nod, and click on Firefox in order to check my emails.
I'm completely lost. Are you having an "affair" in Vegas? You haven't replied to anything I've sent you since you've been there. Are you all right?
-E
I roll my eyes. He can't possibly believe this bullshit, can he?
I don't know; Reum didn't find me a hotel room. I'm staying at someone's house. Don't be shocked or alarmed; we're pretty much enemies. Sweet kid, but not my type.
-M
I click on the latest email from Raquel.
Borrowing your Benoit Pierre Emery silk scarf, and your cute yellow Burberry riding top. Hope you don't mind.
-R
That bitch is going to stain them. I'm burning those poor items when I get home. I'll pour their ashes in her morning "slimming" shakes in the mornings. She'll regret wearing my clothes when I'm finished with her.
New message from Raquel:
Boy the way, I have a new boyfriend.
Picture enclosed.
-R
I click on the link, and it's her in my scarf and riding top, arms tightly wound around a boy in drain pipe jeans and a red v-neck. Could she have picked a more feminine-looking male? I suppose not.
Just for clarification: I didn't say whether you could borrow any article of clothing out of my closet. I would appreciate it if you returned everything cleaned and pressed at the dry cleaners.
-M
If nothing comes back neat and clean, I will burn her on a stake.
I check Perez Hilton, and I find pictures of Brendon and me driving to Ryan and Keltie's place. Photos from the party, and photos of us exiting, and me playing that little game with Brendon. Something about us being "love birds", and linking to many fan sites loathing our relationship. Preteen girls should calm down; I'm not taking their "man" away from them.
I log off the computer and fix my plaid cotton skirt from Burberry as I daintily skip down the steps in search of Brendon.
We have to set some rules.
Flash.
Give me foot tapping.
Flash.
Give me "hurry up, Brendon".
Flash.
He couldn't possibly take any longer to say goodbye to his friends. It's not like I do this to him. Well, actually, that's not true; I'd probably just do that for fun.
If he's doing that to me, I'll throttle him.
He jogs to the Volvo, and I sit there, patiently. I lock the doors as he walks up, and he glares. I shrug my shoulders, and Brendon taps on the glass. I wave. He points to the lock, and I stare. Again, Brendon points angrily at the lock, but I start to whistle. "Maggie, open the door!" His muffled cry means nothing.
"You kept me waiting, so I'll keep you waiting." He scowls. "I'll just sit here and waste your time, so you'll learn a lesson."
"Maggie, if you don't open this door, I'll make sure Reum fires you, and hires someone else to be in that movie!"
"Oh, that could never happen; they're pretty close to production." My nails could really use a manicure. God, they look awful now. Maybe electric blue with some white stars would compliment that dress I bought two weeks ago... "He could never replace me."
"Oh? Why do you think that?" He crosses his arms.
"Katie Holmes is being suppressed by Tom Cruise." I unlock the doors, and he climbs in. "Are you going to call him now?"
He grips the steering wheel. "God, if you weren't such a bitch..."
"Then what?"
"Maybe I'd actually like you." He revs the engine, and off we go back to that dump he calls a home. I could really use a bubble bath...lavender scent, please.
> >
"Miss Magnolia Cartwright has been spotted--"
"Magnolia Cartwright, main character in the new movie--"
"Edward Norton's girlfriend, Magnolia Cartwright--"
"Magnolia Cartwright, model and now-turned actress--"
I'm so sick of the television. I almost throw the remote at the little convex screen, but Brendon grabs it out of my hand. Cartoon Network, and he sits to watch "Tom and Jerry". Cartoon violence is so childish.
Give me angry.
Flash.
Give me pissed.
Flash.
Give me "I don't have a boyfriend".
Flash.
How are these people finding pictures of Brendon and me this quickly? We're on Perez Hilton again, this time with white dripping down my face. More pictures of Raquel and Ignacio, but this time, it's about them breaking up. Raquel sent me a text about it.
I told her to get over herself, but it didn't send.
"Hey, I'm going to use your computer." I start up the stairs, and Brendon's on my tail. "What? I promise I won't be looking at gay porn or anything." He stops.
"You're officially the weirdest and bitchiest person I've ever encountered." He passes me up to his room, and I follow. The computer boots up, and there's an awkward silence. Brendon types in his password (by the way, it's "password"), slowly but surely, and then offers me the plush computer chair. "Just don't download any computer viruses. I'm a singer, not a millionaire."
I nod, and click on Firefox in order to check my emails.
I'm completely lost. Are you having an "affair" in Vegas? You haven't replied to anything I've sent you since you've been there. Are you all right?
-E
I roll my eyes. He can't possibly believe this bullshit, can he?
I don't know; Reum didn't find me a hotel room. I'm staying at someone's house. Don't be shocked or alarmed; we're pretty much enemies. Sweet kid, but not my type.
-M
I click on the latest email from Raquel.
Borrowing your Benoit Pierre Emery silk scarf, and your cute yellow Burberry riding top. Hope you don't mind.
-R
That bitch is going to stain them. I'm burning those poor items when I get home. I'll pour their ashes in her morning "slimming" shakes in the mornings. She'll regret wearing my clothes when I'm finished with her.
New message from Raquel:
Boy the way, I have a new boyfriend.
Picture enclosed.
-R
I click on the link, and it's her in my scarf and riding top, arms tightly wound around a boy in drain pipe jeans and a red v-neck. Could she have picked a more feminine-looking male? I suppose not.
Just for clarification: I didn't say whether you could borrow any article of clothing out of my closet. I would appreciate it if you returned everything cleaned and pressed at the dry cleaners.
-M
If nothing comes back neat and clean, I will burn her on a stake.
I check Perez Hilton, and I find pictures of Brendon and me driving to Ryan and Keltie's place. Photos from the party, and photos of us exiting, and me playing that little game with Brendon. Something about us being "love birds", and linking to many fan sites loathing our relationship. Preteen girls should calm down; I'm not taking their "man" away from them.
I log off the computer and fix my plaid cotton skirt from Burberry as I daintily skip down the steps in search of Brendon.
We have to set some rules.