Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Lost Control ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

AN/

 

Chapter 2

 

It was stupid of me to believe my life would be perfect as soon as I arrived in California. Maybe it was the thought of celebrities, or maybe it was the smog. But something went wrong in my brain and I automatically thought that I was going to be a famous as soon as I stepped off the plane. California isn't at all what it's cracked up to be.

The plane ride was pure torture. There was cramped sitting and it seemed that every asshole in the whole world was on that plane. They leaned back in their seats, crushing the assholes behind them. They cussed and sputtered about this and that. The air was filled with complaints.

Babies wailed their little heads off (I don't see how they can do that. How do they not suffocate? How do they get a breath in when they're screaming so much?) while their mothers tried to shush them. When they'd finally fall to sleep some retarded asshole would lean back or the turbulence would shake them awake again.

I thought it would never end. I had to go through ten hours of it. We'd stop at one air-port then we'd go onto another, and another. It was endless stop and go. The noise of bags being shuffled on and off with the passengers was maddening.

Somehow I managed to catch some z's. As I slept among the noise I had a strange dream. It was so surreal. I was standing in this white place. There wasn't anything there at all, except for a bunch of people. Some I knew, like my mother, Susie, and Michel stood there as well as Austin and Miss Blondie. Some faces where blurred like forgotten memories. It seemed that every person I have ever even glanced at was staring me in the face. And they all just stood there and stared like I was some wacko.

When I woke up I felt worse than when I was before. My head felt like it was gonna spilt in two. Flashes of the dream kept flickering in the back of my mind.

I knew I looked like a train-wreck by the end of it. Every other scumbag on that plane looked the same. We all ambled off moaning and groaning. Luckily the babies had finally quieted-tuckered out from annoying the hell out of me.

I wondered into the lobby of the airport, feeling uncomfortable and timid. By this time I had realized that I had no place to stay. No hotel reservations, no old friends, nothing. Worst of all I didn't have a ride.

Don't panic, I told myself.

I didn't panic; I was actually really calm. I strolled up to a snack bar, gave the hot clerk an uneasy smile and acted.

“Excuse me sir,” I said.

“May I help you?” He grinned back, showing pearly whites. Hook line, and sinker. I've got a bite here and a hot at that.

“Well, I just arrived from New York and I don't have a clue where I'm going. My friends were supposed to call me a cab, but they didn't even show up.” I'm such a dirty little liar. But isn't that what acting is? People lying to become different people? Actors are the best liars.

He belly-laughed and he snorted. I hated snorters and belly-laughers especially when they laugh when something wasn't funny. And this guy, he wouldn't stop laughing. “Don't worry stuff like that happens all the time,” he grinned.

“Eh, don't worry; I think I'll be just fine.” I turned then and simply walked away. That guy was definitely not my type. Even if I was desperate for a place to stay I wasn't going to date that. That guy probably lived with his parents anyway. I don't like meeting my boyfriend's parents; I would never even consider living with them!

At this point I was starting to get a little home-sick. I actually missed New York. Here I was in wonderful Hollywood, California and I was depressed. I missed all my friends, even that self-centered, little bitch Petunia.

Petunia, ugh, what a horrible name, I don't know how she stands it. Everyone calls her Petunia because of the little purple petunia she wears in her hair. It's a fake but it seemed to suit her, especially her rotten attitude.

Yep, she is my most hated rival, and I have many of those. We were never friends, not even when I first moved to New York City.

It happens that the guy I moved with dumped me for Petunia. She was a sexy little, black haired raver, while I was, well, me. I couldn't match her looks or her amazing personality. She made friends with everyone, and she'd date practically anyone, even girls. But she had one enemy, me.

Our rivalry started when I was invited to a rave by a girl named Lollipop. Obviously my boyfriend went with me, and we had a hell of a time.

It was in this old factory that Petunia had turned into a club. We called it The Factory, and eventually that's what its name became. It was a chilly Friday night, but it was scorching in The Factory.

We danced and drank our selves' silly. Then toward the end of the night Petunia approached me. She was smashed, just as I was, but then again everyone was. She smiled her amazing, dazzlingly sweet smile, and her slim frame leaned toward me. She had a sort of overpowering air, like a lion or a panther. I have to say her eyes were amazing. They glinted and sparkled in the dance lights, and had this ever mischievous air.

Petunia was the girl all the other girls wanted to be. She was slim, but tall. A perfect model-body, that's what I call it. She could have jumped out of some strange mix of a Hot Topic and a Victoria Secret magazine. An emo with an Uptown flair-and an uptown wallet- and I hated her for it the moment I met her.

I was sitting at the bar with him next to me. He eyed her lustfully and I felt jealousy curl in an agonizingly, pleasant way in my intestines.

“You're a pretty little thing,” she cooed sweetly.

I smiled, “I try to be.” What I was really trying to do was not to hurl from the horrible gayness of the moment.

And Petunia laughed a chirping, little laugh that was dainty and fair. A woman's laugh Mom would have called it.

“I like your cheek.” She gave my cheek a little pat, and I know I gave her a don't-touch-me look, because she played off being hurt.

“Please, don't touch me.” I could tell she was bi, and I didn't swing that way.

“Oh, don't worry I'll take good care of you.” That beautiful being reached out for me, but I recoiled.

“I don't need you to take care of me,” I snapped. “I've got what's-his-name.” (I didn't actually say that, but I don't remember his name) I pointed behind me rather snootily.

“I see you've got yourself a looker there. What a hunk.” I then truly felt sick, because I knew exactly what was coming. “I wouldn't mind tapping that.”

Petunia shoved past me, and walked straight up to him. He just stood there looking as happy as a clam, a drunken clam that is.

“How about you? You want a night with this?” She swung her hips toward his groin in a swift, sexy motion. Then she had the nerve to place her hands on his chest, and pull at his shirt like she wanted it gone. “I know you want to.” She laughed again. “Why don't you leave that little girly over there and come with me?”

At this point I was standing, and I did what nobody else ever dared to do. I shoved Petunia. She fell dazed to the floor on her little drunken ass, while everyone stopped and stared.

“Lay off, you slut,” I yelled. Everyone gasped, and I felt myself color. I probably had just ruined my reputation before I had even gotten one.

“Petunia,” I heard Lollipop shriek as she came running through the crowd.

“You little bitch,” Petunia stood with fists clenched. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” I said honestly. Everyone laughed nervously. Petunia looked furious.

“Forget her,” Lollipop said as she grabbed hold of Petunia before she could attack me. “She's new, she doesn't know anything.”

“She had no right,” Petunia pouted.

“I had every right,” I said. I knew I had to be strong in a situation like this one. If I showed any weakness I would be eaten alive. “You were hitting on my boyfriend.”

“Lucy,” he grabbed hold of my arm. “She didn't do anything wrong.”

I ripped my arm away from him. I was furious; he was sticking up for her. Of course, he wouldn't stick up for his girlfriend. He was such an asshole.

“You would have gone with her wouldn't you? You'd just leave little old me behind and go fuck her.” I slapped him then, and everyone just gasped- I swear this group of on-lookers had no pizzazz. They were all gaspy and awing and oohing at my stupidity. Someone giggled drunkenly, but someone hushed them.

“Lucy!” Lollipop yelled, “Try to control yourself, won't you?”

“I'm drunk you idiot,” I laughed. “And that bitch tried to steal my boyfriend.”

Everyone in the room was silent. This whole thing was typical Petunia. When she couldn't get the girl, she'd go for the man. Horrible, but she was pretty and popular. She was the queen bee and I had just hit her, wonderful.

But she laughed, “Since you're new I'll forgive you.” I was fuming, why should I been forgiven? I hadn't done anything wrong. “Just remember this the next time we see each other.”

It turned out that the event made me popular. No one dared to hit Petunia because she could so easily ruin their reputations, but everyone wanted to. You see, Petunia was the controller of good majority of the raves.

When she first started to go to raves she befriended someone who threw a lot of them, parties I mean. In the end that someone moved and left all his/her power to Petunia. She seized the catch and there you have it. That's the story of Petunia, not very invigorating is it? That was all I could ever get out of people, the little pussies.

Luckily, because I was new to the scene I was given pardon. But it just made everyone want to be my friend. Maybe they thought I was going to over throw Petunia? Or maybe they felt safe from Petunia with me around? I guess I'm the little girl-who-could. Yeah right.

It was big news when I told everyone I was leaving. They made this huge fuss. Many cried, others were apathetic, and very few wished me good luck. I guess the only ones who were happy I was leaving were Petunia and her posse.

I haven't told you about her posse have I? They are a group of girls and guys who run around with multi colored hair and old 90's thrift store style. I think they're candy kids (high school ravers) but I'm not sure. The hierarchy is like this Petunia is the mobster and her little posse is the mob, end of story. When Petunia isn't around they're in charge and watch out they bit, literally. Lollipop is one of them; she's Petunia's right-hand-lady. And if anyone would be considered Petunia's best-friend it would be Lollipop.

Back then Petunia seemed so important, but now she seems like just a tiny problem in a whole mess of problems. She truly wasn't that important. Everyone was just afraid of change, so they just let things be. Petunia is just one of those people who aren't afraid of change if it's a good change. She's the type who's willing to work and shape life to make it suit her. I never had the courage to do that.

Back then I worked tireless hours working away at Blockbuster and McDonalds. If you look next to the words pathetic, and coward in the dictionary you'll find a picture of me, Lucy Abigail Daven. I wasn't the girl-who-could; I was the girl-who-couldn't.

As I rode in a taxi to the hotel- I read about it out of a pamphlet I grabbed at some gas station in the ghetto- I thought back on my days in New York. They seemed so far away, like they had happened years before. But as the weeks whore on they seemed to disappear into the fabric of my life. Those days were just a few in many. A simple set of days that drifted away so fast. I realized in that bright, yellow taxi cab that I had to forget about the past. The future was what was important.

The hotel was expensive, but worth it. The lobby was tiled in white marble; it glistened in the dim light. Gold-leaf was on practically everything: on the long oak desk, on the lamps, and on the spiraling columns. The ceiling was domed and painted with pictures of little angels in white diapers. And there were butlers and bell-boys dressed in expensive green uniforms around every corner. They tipped their hats at you and flattered you with attention. I felt like a movie star.

And then there was the manager; a nice, clean shaven man around mid forties or thirties. He even smelled nice, like expensive cologne. But he took one look at me, and he shook his head. His gaze hardened and his true colors came flying out.

“Hi, I'd like to get a room,” I said as sweetly as I could.

“Sorry we're booked,” he said it snootily and he was gazing at me as if I was some unwanted rodent.

“Really?” I didn't believe a word he said. There was a wall of keys behind him and a list of residents on the computer screen next to him. It said they had fifty empty rooms, and here he was telling me they were booked. Bull shit. “I flew all the way from New York City to spend the night in this hotel,” was fibbing, laying on all my girlish charms. I could woo this scum bag.

“I am sorry to hear that,” he smiled at me. “You should have made reservations.

“Would've, trust me, but I'm an idiot. I completely didn't think about it. Its horrible traveling across the country, you know?”

“I'm afraid I don't,” he was falling under the spell. Alright! Score two for Lucy!

“Are you absolutely sure you don't have any rooms at all?” I pouted, and batted my big hazel eyes.

“We might have one,” he said and leaned over the computer. He tapped in some words and smiled. “It looks like we do.” Ha, I won yet again. He was probably hoping I was going to invite him up to my room for some champagne, or some other richy thing. But I decided against it, I didn't like old guys.

I had to fill out a bunch of forms and I paid with my credit card. It was like a hundred dollars a night. No pets were allowed and no loud music. If I was reported I would be kicked out. But I gave him a tip and I got a guy to carry up my stuff for me. It seemed that the guys there were desperate for girls that weren't looking to be another Jessica Simpson.

When I saw my room I thought I was going to faint, it was just that beautiful. Sure I was blowing all my money away on this hotel and I would probably end up living on the streets if I didn't get a job, but it was worth every penny.

Since, we were one of the poor families who lived in a small apartment -instead of one of the grand suburbs that the Microsoft workers and the lawyers and the doctors lived-we never spent a lot of money on hotels. We never went anywhere actually. So, I felt like a fairy tale princess in that room. It was just so grand, like a castle.

The room was a pale blue-green like the ocean, with white trim. It had two main rooms: one a living area with sofa and large 37 inch screen TV, while the other was a bedroom with another large TV and a luxurious four-poster bed. There was also a large bathroom with Jacuzzi bath tub, and a shower with a shower-head that poured down over you like rain. And the kitchen was left in a corner in the living area. The kitchen came stocked with microwave, refrigerator, and a toaster. It even had a coffee maker, but I didn't like coffee.

I knew that I was blowing all my money on some fancy hotel, but life needs luxury every once in a while. I could stay here for a few days on my savings alone, but I'll eventually have to get a job. But first things first, time to live it up.

That night I ordered room service and I stayed in my pajamas all day. Ah, luxury, how did I ever manage without it?

The next day I took a long shower with the water turned on hot. It felt so good. Sure it burned my skin, and it made me look splotchy and red, but it was worth it. I just stood there letting that water drown out my thoughts. I felt like it was washing away my past. Like all those stupid mistakes were just disappearing. But of course, they can never be washed away, and as I stepped out from that warm shower I knew I had to get a job.

I got dressed up in a little vintage, blue dress and a pair of jeans with some flats I bought at a flea market. I pulled on a plaid trench coat and grabbed up my green tote before walking out the door. I flipped out my key and locked the door with a triumphant smile. This seemed to be going well.

I made it to the flamboyant stairs (this place only had an old, fancy elevator that squeaked and rocked: defiantly not a trustworthy elevator) and walked down them with head held high. I felt like Cinderella walking into the ball, sort of nervous but confident.

Today was the day; I felt it in my bones. I'd find a break for sure.