continues. “So I pretty much just washed my ’nads and pits then I was outta there.” Jared starts smirking at him. “I’m hitting the fucking buffet.” Roger pulls out his chair and heads toward the buffet. Jared glances at the menu then gets up to follow Roger.
I take a bite of my oatmeal and it’s delicious. When the warm, gooey goodness hits my stomach, I instantly start feeling a little better. Looking over at Matt’s plate, I can see that he’s already halfway done eating his breakfast.
“Geez Matt.” I start laughing. “You seem like you’re starving or something. How can you eat that fast? Especially after drinking?” I pick up my orange juice and take a sip.
“I don’t know. I got up at nine, worked out for forty five minutes then showered. I guess the working out helped me work up an appetite.” He shrugs then continues with his meal.
“Damn, Matt. Maybe I should’ve tried that. But my head was killing me this morning.”
“Yeah, when I feel like shit, usually working out a little kills my hangover. I’m ready for another night now.” He’s smiling at my cringed face. Yuck! Not me tonight, that’s for sure.
Cory enters the restaurant now, and his clothes look clean. Jeans on and he’s wearing a vintage Nirvana T-shirt. But his eyes… His eyes are blood red and bugged out. It’s either he didn’t sleep at all last night, or he is stoned out of his mind. He pulls up a chair between Matt and I on my left side.
“Good morning, guys,” he says to us.
“Hey how are you?” I pull my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose a bit and quirk my left eyebrow up at him. He knows I’m onto something because he gives me this puzzled look as he pops an ice cube from his water into his mouth.
“Ahhh… Fine,” he says slowly, clearly.
“Okay then.” I know it wasn’t just pot. His eyes wouldn’t be bugged-out-looking, and he wouldn’t be fidgety either. He would’ve been laid back and have more tired-looking eyes. Nope. My guess is that he did some coke again. I hope he doesn’t keep going with this. Ever since that one night in the studio, I have been worried about him.
Roger comes back to the table and practically drops his plate. I laugh to myself a little because Frankie was kind of right. Roger is barbaric. His plate is smothered in sausage gravy. I can’t even tell what’s underneath the gravy. Fucking eh.
Jared sits beside me, and I can at least tell what he is having: bacon, cinnamon roll, and yogurt. Roger must have noticed it too because he blanches out.
“What the fuck, Jared? Yogurt!”
“What, man? This shit is good. Not like that heart attack shit you’re eating.” Jared peels off the tab of his yogurt and digs in.
“This is what grown men eat, Jared. Not bitch food like yours.” Roger starts digging into his plate, and after a few bites he says, “So how you doing, Sophie?” Sophie is what they call me sometimes. Our own little endearment. “You look like hell.”
What?
“Well, Rog. I don’t feel that great, so of course, I might not look like it.” I roll my eyes at him and start eating my oatmeal again, laughing a little. Gotta love him. And sometimes wanna slap him.
After we finish with our breakfast, we go back to our rooms and collect our things. We make our way down to the lobby, waiting for our cab. Undead Society gets to travel to the airport by limousine. Not us. But maybe someday. Hopefully, we will be as successful as them.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Once we reach the airport, we drive through these gates that lead us to a private runway where the private jet is waiting for us. From LA to Vegas, Undead Society flew via private jet; but we came via commercial flight. So right now is fucking insane.
Stepping out under the hot Vegas sun, I pull my hair up into a sloppy bun. I was just starting to feel decent, and I don’t want my hair on my neck, making me feel too hot again. It might trigger something in my hangover.
Lux walks up to us and
I take a bite of my oatmeal and it’s delicious. When the warm, gooey goodness hits my stomach, I instantly start feeling a little better. Looking over at Matt’s plate, I can see that he’s already halfway done eating his breakfast.
“Geez Matt.” I start laughing. “You seem like you’re starving or something. How can you eat that fast? Especially after drinking?” I pick up my orange juice and take a sip.
“I don’t know. I got up at nine, worked out for forty five minutes then showered. I guess the working out helped me work up an appetite.” He shrugs then continues with his meal.
“Damn, Matt. Maybe I should’ve tried that. But my head was killing me this morning.”
“Yeah, when I feel like shit, usually working out a little kills my hangover. I’m ready for another night now.” He’s smiling at my cringed face. Yuck! Not me tonight, that’s for sure.
Cory enters the restaurant now, and his clothes look clean. Jeans on and he’s wearing a vintage Nirvana T-shirt. But his eyes… His eyes are blood red and bugged out. It’s either he didn’t sleep at all last night, or he is stoned out of his mind. He pulls up a chair between Matt and I on my left side.
“Good morning, guys,” he says to us.
“Hey how are you?” I pull my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose a bit and quirk my left eyebrow up at him. He knows I’m onto something because he gives me this puzzled look as he pops an ice cube from his water into his mouth.
“Ahhh… Fine,” he says slowly, clearly.
“Okay then.” I know it wasn’t just pot. His eyes wouldn’t be bugged-out-looking, and he wouldn’t be fidgety either. He would’ve been laid back and have more tired-looking eyes. Nope. My guess is that he did some coke again. I hope he doesn’t keep going with this. Ever since that one night in the studio, I have been worried about him.
Roger comes back to the table and practically drops his plate. I laugh to myself a little because Frankie was kind of right. Roger is barbaric. His plate is smothered in sausage gravy. I can’t even tell what’s underneath the gravy. Fucking eh.
Jared sits beside me, and I can at least tell what he is having: bacon, cinnamon roll, and yogurt. Roger must have noticed it too because he blanches out.
“What the fuck, Jared? Yogurt!”
“What, man? This shit is good. Not like that heart attack shit you’re eating.” Jared peels off the tab of his yogurt and digs in.
“This is what grown men eat, Jared. Not bitch food like yours.” Roger starts digging into his plate, and after a few bites he says, “So how you doing, Sophie?” Sophie is what they call me sometimes. Our own little endearment. “You look like hell.”
What?
“Well, Rog. I don’t feel that great, so of course, I might not look like it.” I roll my eyes at him and start eating my oatmeal again, laughing a little. Gotta love him. And sometimes wanna slap him.
After we finish with our breakfast, we go back to our rooms and collect our things. We make our way down to the lobby, waiting for our cab. Undead Society gets to travel to the airport by limousine. Not us. But maybe someday. Hopefully, we will be as successful as them.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Once we reach the airport, we drive through these gates that lead us to a private runway where the private jet is waiting for us. From LA to Vegas, Undead Society flew via private jet; but we came via commercial flight. So right now is fucking insane.
Stepping out under the hot Vegas sun, I pull my hair up into a sloppy bun. I was just starting to feel decent, and I don’t want my hair on my neck, making me feel too hot again. It might trigger something in my hangover.
Lux walks up to us and
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