Mandy Slade (smileslie) wrote in expresslogs, @ 2012-09-29 15:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | !open, {mandy slade |
Who: Mandy and Open (!dice if wanted)
Where: Mini kitchen
When: Saturday afternoon
What: Mandy's fighting a hangover and self pity.
Rating/warnings: It's Mandy. Language, references to sex/drugs likely.
Status: Open/ongoing
The last time she'd sulked like this her husband had been off with another man. Mandy wasn't sure which was more pathetic, now or then. After all, she' known Brian was...well, Brian.
But she'd also known the train could kick Grey off any damn time it pleased.
It was just so shitty, though. They'd finally had that girl's night, and she'd finally gotten rid of the goddamned ring and gotten laid in Shanghai, and this was what she got in return? Losing the one fucking person who'd been a real friend to her in ages (Curt didn't count, she told herself. That was more complicated than friendship)? It was enough to drive a girl to...well, curl up at the bottom of a bottle, which was exactly what Mandy had been doing for the last few days.
But some annoying little voice--like that high little squeak she used to think was so damn classy--had piped up today, breaking through the splitting headache (and making it worse at the same time), telling her that this was no way for the Divine Miss Mandy Slade to be acting. So she'd lost her friend--she could make more. She'd always done that, hadn't she? She'd had tons of friends once. No matter they'd all left when the money did, that Grey was the first one who hadn't cared about that. She'd bought those nice clothes and lipsticks in Shanghai for a reason, hadn't she? So what if she was feeling like her head and heart had been run over by a bus and wanted to just hide--if she ever wanted to be more than the woman Brian had laughed out of his rooms (she thought she did, sometimes she did), she had to stop acting like it.
It took far longer than it should have, but she managed to put on some clean clothes and some lipstick and eyeliner, then stumbled out of her room to the kitchen. It was an ungodly challenge getting coffee going, but she'd managed and was sitting at the table sipping very slowly as she willed the world to stop spinning and stop fucking her over.
Maybe if she was lucky she'd manage the first.