See You in Five

[Jacob Adams]

Man, how he hated his inability to say no sometimes. Specifically, when it came to dares, and specifically if the dare started with ”Bet you couldn't...”. Of course he could! No matter what it was. He could do it and he would be the best at it. Of course, his co workers had taken to using this against him for no other reason than the fun of it. Usually the dares was funny, challenging, something to do in his otherwise dull free-time. Man, he needed a better hobby. Still, this time it just sucked. They'd bet him he couldn't go three days without trying to pick someone up. What was the fun in that? Still, naturally, he had to prove that he could. He'd just... find someone to hang out with that didn't have any expectations of him. He knew that kind of people, right?



Eventually, he decided on pestering Vicky. He needed to get some stuff picked up anyway. When he texted, he was already in the neighborhood.



Vicky! You home? I'm on my way. See you in five. Love you!



Cause giving people a heads up before arrival was obviously overrated. Still, if she wasn't home, he'd find something else to do. Like text Vicky about how rude it was that she wasn't home when he needed her.

[Vicky Zhang]

Today, in the studio apartment labelled 320 (just a floor off from being 420, and she's honestly glad that terrible joke never saw the light of day,) Vicky Zhang was enjoying some nice, tranquil solitude. Amidst the daily chaos of life, she treasured these quiet moments to herself-- especially now, after having dealt with an annoying client for the past couple of days. (He'd finally caught onto her 'forgetting' a gram or two in his last order and confronted her about it. "Your scale must be broken," she had insisted, because at a certain point it's better to keep going on with the lie rather than to admit it.) The argument never got too violent, but it was one of those times that Vicky was glad she decided to buy a gun to hide in her apartment.

Vicky sat curled up in her bed wearing nothing but a comfortable tank top, scrolling through instagrams on her phone and wearing one of the new "brightening and softening" face masks that she bought earlier that day-- well, technically shoplifted, but that's a story for another time. Although, she wouldn't mind actually buying these in the future. The mask felt satisfyingly slimy and cool on her face, and it smelled pleasantly like pomegranates. Her phone buzzed, and a message popped up on the top of the screen: Vicky! You home? I'm on my way. See you in five. Love you! ;)

Vicky snickered to herself and replied back, A five minute notice? That's a new record. She wouldn't be surprised if one day, she came home to find Jake lounging lazily on her couch, smoking a joint that he rolled himself, and eating all of her favorite blueberry granola bars. Vicky then realized that she wasn't at her most attractive at the moment-- her hair was up, her bangs pinned back, and with the white mask covering her entire makeup-less face except her nose and mouth, she looked akin to Michael Myers. Then she realized-- it's just Jake. And they had been unconventional friends long enough for her not to care. But she did put on some shorts, for his sake, before getting up to answer the door when the knock finally came.

[Jacob Adams]

Honestly, it barely even took him five minutes in the end. He still gave himself a few minutes margin if he was to get lost on the way, but he was starting to realise even him couldn't get lost on the way to her place anymore. When she opened the door, he let out a small laugh. ”Shit, hun. You can't do what you do and answer the door looking like a swamp monster. You'll freak out the stoners.” he said, winking at her before letting himself in, living up to at least some of her expectations by dropping down on her couch. At least he had the common curtesy to leave her fridge alone. For now.

”So. Whatcha been up to?” he asked. The everyday stories of a drug dealer was usually entertaining to listen to, after all.

[Vicky Zhang]

"Don't make fun," she warned, shutting the door behind him. "Perfect skin doesn't come easy. Start wearing these and your tips would go up by 70%, at least." Although, in the dim and gaudy lights of a strip club, no one would be able to appreciate smooth, evenly toned skin, Vicky imagined.

Vicky shrugged as she took a seat beside of him on the couch. She pointed to the wall across room, focusing on a fist-sized hole that had blossomed in the middle of the off-white paint. With the gruffest and deepest voice she could muster, she mimicked, "You been skippin' out of me, ya bitch." She turned to Jake, dark eyes narrowed behind her menacing face mask. "You're messing with the wrong guy." She growled a bit for dramatic effect, before letting out a laugh and ending her reenactment.

Mental note: get that wall fixed soon, Vicky reminded herself. Feeling her face begin to dry, she peeled off the face mask and stood up to unceremoniously throw it in the trash. "So," she said, patting her cheeks, "What do you want? Or, do you have some crazy story from last weekend to tell me?"

[Jacob Adams]

He laughed at her remark. “Yeah, that's what the people want. A perfect... face.” he nodded. Following the direction of her pointing finger with his eyes, he made a face when he saw the wall. Man, that'd be a bitch to fix. He leaned away from her when she did her impression. It was one thing to be freaky, she could pull that show off anyday. With the facemask, it just made him want to throw a pillow in her face and run out the door. “Really? Shit, this city is weak, if the 'wrong guy's can't even aim their punches right. Makes you wonder what piece of heaven the right guy must be.” he said, feigning a dreamy face. “I assume he ran off after that embarrasment, considering you're still standing?” He realised this business came with risks. He'd been a hooker in Mississippi, after all, that hadn't been risk-free either. It was oddly nice to know someone that could relate without judging or overreacting at every turn. Still, it did call for some extra concern, although he tried to tone it down, at least when there were no obvious flesh wounds visible. Otherwise, it'd get naggy.



When she questioned why he came, he leaned back slightly into the back of the couch, smiling innocently. “Why, I just came cause I missed your pretty face! As for my weekend, I spent it trying to keep Frankie from planting his ass where it doesn't belong. Unsuccessfully, as usual. And I kicked his abusive stalker in the balls. Shit, remember when they cared enough to stalk me? Maybe I do need that facemask..” he shook his head. He needed to get a life of his own instead of running around trying to keep his fellow strippers out of trouble. He'd brought Frankie around once or twice, but man, if you thought Jake was all over the place... he'd quickly decided to keep him away from Vicky, lest she make his face up to match her wall. “And some guys at the club were looking to buy some E. You can probably go light of a gram or two, they won't notice. Here.” he reached into the back pocket of his jeans to pull out a piece of paper with the amount each guy wanted, rolled around a roll of cash.

[Vicky Zhang]

"Of course," Vicky answered in regards to her aggressive client. In truth, she had instead pacified the man by offering him free weed-- the cheapest and lowest quality strand she had, but Vicky didn't think he'd be able to tell the difference. And since that was the least interesting part of the story, she didn't bother mentioning it. Besides, it wasn't the worst client that she had dealt with, by far.

Vicky let out a laugh. "They say a stripper's value is only measured by the amount of stalkers that he has, you know." She walked over to Jake and pinched his cheek, leaning in and examining his skin. "Hmm. Your pores could use some work," she teased, as took the wad of cash from him and unrolled it. She flipped through the bills rapidly, counting at a speed only acquired from years of practice. If the drug dealer gig did work out, she could make it as a banker. Probably. "Let me know if you get any-- there's some days that I'd love an excuse to kick someone in the balls."

She made her way to her closet and shifted some clothes out of the way, and four beeps could be hear as she unlocked her safe. She pulled out a couple of small plastic bags, pre-weighed and pre-packaged, with the requested tiny, colorful tablets inside. Vicky considered going light on them again-- but she decided against it this time. If word actually got around that she tended to short people, it might not make for good business. She'd give it a couple of weeks.

Vicky grabbed another item out of her closet before shutting the door and tossing the bags, one at a time, over the Jake. "And this," she added, walking back over to hand him a face mask that wouldn't have made it through the air if she had thrown it. Its packaging was bright and colorful, with an overly cute, cartoon duck cartoon drawn on it. The instructions, however, were entirely in a difference language. "Trust me, you need it".

[Jacob Adams]

He nodded, taking another look at the wall. Well... as long as they kept missing. The stripper comment just made him look like a sad puppy. “I know... Although, luckily, the club's been getting an unusual amount of creeps lately. Maybe someday soon, I'll be the lucky guy..” The hurt puppy-look turned into a frown as he spoke. He had been avoiding a guy in the past week, but that was mostly because he was tired and didn't want to deal with someone with boundary-issues right then and there, not because he'd actually been a threat. “Oh, my knight in shining armor! Although, I think I've grown pretty competent at dealing with stalkers at this point.”



He caught the bags one by one, giving them only a brief glance before shamelessly sliding them into his underwear through the side of his jeans. If he was gonna get busted, the cop was going to be pretty damn uncomfortable as they did so. He took the face mask, looked confused for a while as he tried to figure out what it was. “... oh, what're you trying to do, make me cry?” he said when he realised what she was talking about. He looked it over again, raising his eyebrows slightly. “... yeah, see, I rarely put sticky stuff on my own face, so I wouldn't know how to do this.” if she was going to suggest his appearance was flawed, she was going to be uncomfortable while doing so, too, he sulked.