pop_tarts: xtina's ass (dirrty)
J finds her smoking against the wall at alarm, six hours before Busta gets to work. "What are you doing here?"

A shrugs; "can't go home," she says, and then hesitates. "You ever see someone die because they were sick before?"

J leans on the wall beside her, and takes her cigarette. They're sweet, dandelion maybe. Real tobacco is too expensive for her tastes. "Once," he tells her. "When I was a kid. Rich people die because they get sick, sometimes, and the surgeons can't put them back together again."

She stares down at her arm. The scar, from where the doctor had to restitch her bone up from the inside out, was obvious in the sunshine. Her skin is faint pink beneath the brown tan, the leathery skin. J has a thousand scars on himself. "You ever get sick?" she asks him. J shakes his head; Christina says, "Mer's dead," and gulps.

--
pop_tarts: xtina's ass (dirrty)
well, THIS has been a while, hasn't it? um, all I can say is that I've been listening to Kid A by Radiohead? and? um? --yeah. anyway.

--

Christina wakes up and there's some kind of smell in the apartment.

It's sweet, like honey nights over at fifty-second street, the few afternoons she went to see. Honey is still cheap and plentiful, there are always insects and always straggly little weeds to pollinate. The girls wrapped in plastic and the sweat and the overripe fruit and the honey all mix together to make this kind of, smell. not like weed smoke, that's sweet and earthy, pleasant like a dream, and not like perfume, that's oily and flowery or deep and slightly sour but always in a fresh way.

this doesn't smell fresh. She sits up, wipes sleep out of her eyes and sweat off her neck, and stands up. The smell gets stronger as she turns to the window, and then she sees Mer over by the window, slouched on the glass, hair in her face. her skin is bright pink from being in the sunlight, intensified by glass, but her hands are blue-y green, especially around her fingernails, with raised little bumps. the only reason she can see them is because one of Mer's hands is sitting in a pool of sunshine, so peaceful, so serene looking.

"Mer?" she says, but there's not going to be an answer, and she knows it. the sunshine has accelerated it, Mer's already gone, skin blotchy. Christina doesn't investigate any more, she just opens the door and takes her bike keys. she makes sure to lock the door with a unique code before she leaves, because Christina has been living in this world for long enough to know what drug overdoses and what stabbings and what shootings look like, and this is none of those by far. this is something worse.

--

urges.

Feb. 8th, 2004 10:42 am
pop_tarts: xtina's ass (dirrty)
something I just had to do. remember Alarm? just me? okay. )
pop_tarts: justin/lance (Default)
"ring the alarm" idea list, updated:

-- Christina at Nelly's club; no boxing save thursdays, but dance-offs all night
-- JC and Justin drag racing and betting
-- monster trucks at JC's diner, the hell hole
-- Lance watching Justin fight
-- christina talking to one of the top bettors; how to pick up tips and influence people at ALARM

--madonna's club and porn downloadable straight to your cell phone

-- busta rhymes takin' the fall for "pass the couvoursier" for puffy; jumping the wall to avoid his family as a teen
-- Justin and nelly knowing each other; that's how justin gets into the club scene?
-- pink's history a mystery
-- gwen stephani being the mechanic on a freighter

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pop_tarts: justin/lance (Default)
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