JANE
"Superhero names? Like in the movies? If we had powers and stuff?"
" Yeah. If we could do anything."
" Fine. What would yours be?"
" Wendy first."
Wendy sighed just a little. "Agent Ginger. No supernatural stuff, just really really good at like a dozen martial arts."
" Fast Finger Man. Really fast—"
" I get it," Jane raised an eyebrow at the two other people sharing the backseat of the car with her. "You've talked about this before."
" Agent Ginger" smirked, and gave the guy between them a friendly swat on the arm. "Alexander likes to recycle this conversation topic, yes."
" It's always fun," Fast Finger Man himself said.
" Give me a sec then."
A large part of what Wendy, Alexander, and Jane did was this —give themselves names. Jane took it seriously. Also, giving yourself a superhero name meant admitting to a power, or at least an awareness of what made you special, what you lorded over the common man. This was a revelation not to be made lightly.
" Princess Midas," Jane said, coughing lightly into her hand. She suddenly hoped that she wasn't getting the flu or something.
Alexander whistled. "Fancy."
" Classic reference," Wendy added.
" Thanks."
A silence fell over the car, parked discreetly behind an SUV at the far end of the makeshift lot behind the Asylum Rose , what used to be the trendiest club in the city. They had been there, in the car, in the backseat specifically, for an hour. They needed to do this sometimes, just sit and wait.
It didn 't need to be this cramped. Alexander had driven them over, and Wendy rode shotgun, but they eventually moved to the back. Less conspicuous that way, they said. Alexander apologized for the smell of the vehicle, just a little too lemony, but didn't apologize for the claustrophobia.
"So, we're clear, yes?" asked Wendy. "You have the rings?"
Jane nodded.
"You know what to say?"
Sure she did.
"You know how much the copy should be?"
"Yes, I do," said Jane.
"Margaux says the buyer could be ready tomorrow, if we close this tonight. Are we closing this tonight, Jane?"
"I sure hope so."
"Go, team," Alexander piped in. "Home stretch, people. Let's sell this bling so I can take my ten percent and go home."
She almost smiled at this. "Next topic," Jane said instead. "Worst meal you've ever had?"
FROM THE SAUCY SOCIALS BLOG
Who the fuck is Elizabeth Madrid?
And shut up, you know-it-alls, those of you just waiting to be the first five to comment on this post. You're going to say that she's the brat from one of those rich families in the south that your mom was related to. That she was educated abroad. That she used to be a model until that unfortunate relationship with the druggie actor that got her shipped off overseas again. I know this, bitch posers. But I want to know WHY I know her.
Because none of you bitch posers knew her last Christmas, admit it. This blog had zero entries on her. And now that she's the BFF of the day of our favorite trainwreck Chrysalis Magnolia, formerly engaged to the Walking Dick, now a day doesn't go by without me getting tips about this person I don't know if I should care about. We wouldn't be doing this if she weren't friends with our Chrysalis now, would we? She's not a celeb really. She's not dating one. She's vaguely pretty in that Eurasian way and she's got long and silky hair and that she's at least a size heavier than the club princesses we usually tear to shreds with glee over here. She could be an heiress but she's boring as fuck and please tell me why I should care.
When do Chrysalis Magnolia BFFs expire again? Because the last one stole from her right, and that was five months into forever friendship?
What I need is an actual person who knows Elizabeth fucking Madrid. Did you go to daycare with her? Were you boarding school classmates? Were you in her dorm in NYU or Berkeley or wherever the fuck you say she's from? Because if you're not, and you can't even give me a picture,
"Superhero names? Like in the movies? If we had powers and stuff?"
" Yeah. If we could do anything."
" Fine. What would yours be?"
" Wendy first."
Wendy sighed just a little. "Agent Ginger. No supernatural stuff, just really really good at like a dozen martial arts."
" Fast Finger Man. Really fast—"
" I get it," Jane raised an eyebrow at the two other people sharing the backseat of the car with her. "You've talked about this before."
" Agent Ginger" smirked, and gave the guy between them a friendly swat on the arm. "Alexander likes to recycle this conversation topic, yes."
" It's always fun," Fast Finger Man himself said.
" Give me a sec then."
A large part of what Wendy, Alexander, and Jane did was this —give themselves names. Jane took it seriously. Also, giving yourself a superhero name meant admitting to a power, or at least an awareness of what made you special, what you lorded over the common man. This was a revelation not to be made lightly.
" Princess Midas," Jane said, coughing lightly into her hand. She suddenly hoped that she wasn't getting the flu or something.
Alexander whistled. "Fancy."
" Classic reference," Wendy added.
" Thanks."
A silence fell over the car, parked discreetly behind an SUV at the far end of the makeshift lot behind the Asylum Rose , what used to be the trendiest club in the city. They had been there, in the car, in the backseat specifically, for an hour. They needed to do this sometimes, just sit and wait.
It didn 't need to be this cramped. Alexander had driven them over, and Wendy rode shotgun, but they eventually moved to the back. Less conspicuous that way, they said. Alexander apologized for the smell of the vehicle, just a little too lemony, but didn't apologize for the claustrophobia.
"So, we're clear, yes?" asked Wendy. "You have the rings?"
Jane nodded.
"You know what to say?"
Sure she did.
"You know how much the copy should be?"
"Yes, I do," said Jane.
"Margaux says the buyer could be ready tomorrow, if we close this tonight. Are we closing this tonight, Jane?"
"I sure hope so."
"Go, team," Alexander piped in. "Home stretch, people. Let's sell this bling so I can take my ten percent and go home."
She almost smiled at this. "Next topic," Jane said instead. "Worst meal you've ever had?"
FROM THE SAUCY SOCIALS BLOG
Who the fuck is Elizabeth Madrid?
And shut up, you know-it-alls, those of you just waiting to be the first five to comment on this post. You're going to say that she's the brat from one of those rich families in the south that your mom was related to. That she was educated abroad. That she used to be a model until that unfortunate relationship with the druggie actor that got her shipped off overseas again. I know this, bitch posers. But I want to know WHY I know her.
Because none of you bitch posers knew her last Christmas, admit it. This blog had zero entries on her. And now that she's the BFF of the day of our favorite trainwreck Chrysalis Magnolia, formerly engaged to the Walking Dick, now a day doesn't go by without me getting tips about this person I don't know if I should care about. We wouldn't be doing this if she weren't friends with our Chrysalis now, would we? She's not a celeb really. She's not dating one. She's vaguely pretty in that Eurasian way and she's got long and silky hair and that she's at least a size heavier than the club princesses we usually tear to shreds with glee over here. She could be an heiress but she's boring as fuck and please tell me why I should care.
When do Chrysalis Magnolia BFFs expire again? Because the last one stole from her right, and that was five months into forever friendship?
What I need is an actual person who knows Elizabeth fucking Madrid. Did you go to daycare with her? Were you boarding school classmates? Were you in her dorm in NYU or Berkeley or wherever the fuck you say she's from? Because if you're not, and you can't even give me a picture,
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