Week Twelve: Tuesday Who: Kissy and Manny Where: Cambridge, MA When: Afternoon What: Imagine, Kissy and Manny shopping at the same places and eating in the same restaraunts and never quite running into one another until now.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* The Faerie Princess in Whatchudoin hea, Wulf! *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Her majesty, the Princess, had returned to her faire kingdom of Boston, MA, had reconvened with her court: Cecelia, Suzette, Xiomara, LaTorna, and Jaceinthe. They were a gaggle of New England girls gone wild. It was the misfortune of a vintage store owner between central and cambridge square to have fallen into their path. They swooped in like a swarm of locusts over slightly worn and sun-faded leopard print jackets from the early 90's.
It was so good to be back with her girls again. They buzzed with their machine-gun fire chatter, everyone of them speaking at once and to each other. Kissy had felt a little weird at Halcyon. When you walked and talked with someone they actually waited until after you were finished speaking to start talking. Then, if you started talking before they were done they, like, stopped. The rule was that you both kept talking louder. At least, that's how Kissy understood it. Not like her family was much help, those typical Boston tactics worked to her advantage with the usually packed house.
Hell, they had seven guests alone not including her, her parents, and her innia. "I love that unyu!" Kissy yelled, her phone blaring Flo Rida loudly as she tried to squeeze her way out of the store. "Nuh-uh! I got shots onnit!" She yelled back. "Nuh-uh! Nuh-uh! Whatevah! I gotchoo! I gotchoo! Alright!" The store was so tight that by the time she made it out the door the force of the crowd, made entirely by her own friends, practically shot her out.
Kissy clamored into the tiny entryway. The stores had been carved out of the bottom floor of an old Colonial. The second floor was probably storage. The entryway was low and barely fit two people. On either side was a door. Her side was the vintage store and the other was some record shop that specialized in bands with periods and dots in the name or whatever. "Hello? HELLO!? HAAAAALLLLOOOO! I can't hear you! What? WHAT! I can't hear you! Bye! Byeeee! Okay! I can't hear youuu! Byeeeee! I SAID BYEEEEE!"
Her mother. Again. She didn't know why she was still calling when they all had that big talk about how she was more responsible and grown up and they didn't need to check up on her every two seconds. The flying thing helped. They thought it was like, the ultimate escape route. But hello, she was wearing a skirt and didn't need everyone knowing she was wearing her Wednesday Paul Frank briefs on a Monday. But at least she looked fly. Navy blue knee-skirt with argyle ankle socks and pink chucks. Houndstooth fitted jacket with Roca Wear tooth charm on extra long gold chain over Old Navy fashion tee.
But today she was wearing her brand new "Kissy" earrings in fabulous bamboo hoops with gold lettering and inset rhinestones. To show them off she'd twisted her hair into an updo with an explosion of curls near her face. Seafoam eyeliner and pink high gloss lipliner. Yeah, she was still the little high fashion plate of the group. "MOM I CAN'T HEAR YOU STILL, YOU'RE IN A TUNNEL!" Phone again!