tearin' up the radio ,

[Cassidy Slade]

( CASSIDY TAMARA SLADE )

NOVEMBER, 2007. MID-EVENING. BREEZE BAR (TREASURE ISLAND).

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she's outta control, so beautiful ,
TATOOS AND A SWITCHBLADE ATTITUDE,
SNAKEBITE HEART WITH A BUBBLEGUM SMILE
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- - - SHE COULD BARELY

[/b][/font] remember the last time she had been in sin city. had to have been at least a year. i think. the last time she had been anywhere near nevada, cassidy slade had been in the middle of a very smokey, hazed-out dream. what's new, right? a press tour or something. she did, in fact, remember hanging around the strip for only a day or two. she hadn't even gotten to the luxury hotel room her agent had booked. when is there honestly time to sleep when you're in law vegas? hello, it's called sin city for a damn reason. even if you're the virgin mary, that doesn't count once you cross the big 'welcome' sign. screw mexico. what happens in vegas hopefully stays in vegas. i don't give a flying bat if you're the straight-laced wanna-be ceo of some douche-y company in downtown los angeles. and you have a beautiful, very classy, fiance waiting for you patiently back home while you're on a very important business trip. some sort of meeting. the man you want to be said that las vegas is the middle of all of the head corporate tools of america. none of that matters. within hours, you're going to be at some trashy strip club, wedding ring lying forgotten in your jacket pocket. you empty the bank account you had been using to save up for your surprise fairytale wedding for your lovely lady. you lose yourself in las vegas. you see the pretty lights and the colorful smoke, and you completely forget who you are. best to arrive knowing this, because it'll happen whether you like it or not. see, that's how she was a step above everyone else. even if it had been awhile, this damaged starlet crossed the border with absolutely no expectations. she knew she was going to fuck up here. might as well prepare yourself.

not that preparing yourself ever actually works when when your name is cassidy slade. she'd remembered the long weekend when the spoiled kids clogging up the local valkyrie academy were escaping for a very scandalous, very illegal, trip to vegas. apparently it's annual. cool. which meant everyone she knew was going to be in sin city for several days. did that have any flaw in it to make her not go? getting into obvious trouble, the city of sins, and no forced parental supervision? recipe for a golden good time. it's not like anyone had the power to stop her. not that it didn't keep people from trying. people only being her mother. that annoying speck of a human being who was the only one who pretended to give a damn about her well-being. everyone else either didn't give a shit, or had long learned that it didn't matter; she was going to do what she wanted until she didn't want to do it anymore. there were no arguments, no screaming and crying. she just went out and did it.

which was exactly what she was planning on doing once the vegas trip rolled around that late november weekend. consistantly rolling her eyes, cassidy slade, the girl in question in this whole thing, didn't even bother to respond to her mother's many, many comments. first it was 'absolutely not!' and a bunch of yelling she paid no attention to. then the threats of making her give up acting for good. then bargaining. now it was all just white noise. she loaded her single suitcase into the back of her shiny audi, and charlotte slade-whatever was still going at it. "we had a deal, cassidy..." she was whispering as to not tip off the neighbours. it's not like these people didn't know their business anyway. slamming down her trunk, cas pulled her sunglasses from her face and glared right at her mother. "no. you had a deal. i'm just letting you live in paradise before i go and get my life back." an unfamiliar venom lacing her words, cas shoved past her too-skinny mother and into the frontseat of her car. pushing her sunglasses back on, she looked at charlotte through the open passenger window. "if it makes you feel better, tell everyone i'm checking myself into a whack shack." live in that stupid place much longer, and she'd have to.

it was all metalica and open road between valkyrie, california and las vegas, nevada. and she kept it that way. the entire however-long trip - it was way too much driving - did not stop once until she left that dirty old welcome sign well in her rearview mirror. for the first time in a long time, cassidy was sober a day when she entered the city of sin itself. granted, she had to drive by herself. and she was a responsible addict, thank you. drive while intoxicated? absolutely not. have you seen those hilarious-as-hell papparazzi pictures of the drunk lindsay lohan's of the world? they look ridiculous. and then wreck their perfectly nice car. she liked her little gray audi to be free of scratched and paint from street signs. she should give the little car a name, come to think of it. he has enough character for one. and the bright blue fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror just add to his charm. smirking to herself as she pondered outrageous names, she easily slid into a parking space around the back of the legendary treasure island hotel and casino. apparently everyone was staying here. good choice. her agent should have gotten her a room here last time, despite not actually using it. it had way more cool lights. oh, and no, she was not going to be using the valet service. honestly? she didn't want to aid in humiliating the poor underpaid college students forced to wear ugly red jackets. her sunglasses still plastered on her face, despite the sun beginning to disappear from the sky, cas casually strolled right into the lobby. "miss slade, we are so pleased you could make it." she made her reservation online. and some dude in a suit and blue tie was approaching her with a big smile. ookay. "of course you are...pat," quickly looking at the hotel manager's nametag, she looked back up at him. "it's patrick." boring. "well, i'm going to call you pat. can you please get someone to take my bags up to my room? thanks." without really waiting for an answer, she turned and walked back through the lobby.

wishing to hell she had worn something with pockets, the indie darling pushed her sunglasses atop her head in time to hear another voice. it was cute though, small and shy. "uhm, miss slade, can i have your-your..." half-turning to see a girl no older than ten blushing, tightly holding a notepad and pen, she smiled. contrary to what every trashy tabloid said, she wasn't the next lindsay lohan. she wasn't famous or unclean enough for that. "of course you can, sweetie." leaning on the cold tiles, making sure her dress stayed in place, cas signed the notebook, making sure to include some random little note. "oh, hey, cassidy! can i have one, too?" another voice. this time one belonging to some buff dude, trailed by a few friends. she grinned. it was nice to actually be back in the world in which she was accustomed. it was boring strolling down the streets of valkyrie without being stopped at least once with the usual, 'didn't i see you in some movie?' she loved that about her job. as the here-to-stay indie darling of hollywood, her fanbase was more of a wanna-be cult following than anything. okay, so film-buff girlfriends punch their boyfriends, saying who she actually was, and then she was asked for an autograph or picture, but still. that was the charm of it all. taking the time to sign several more pieces of paper, pausing for a few cheeky photographs, cas actually began to enjoy herself. for the first time in a long time. without drugs in her system, and no intention of causing a scene. it was good to feel that again.

not even bothering to go up to her room, cassidy escaped the lobby and went to the nearest club. she read somewhere that treasure island was home to like, four nightclubs or something. and apparently they were all trendy and worth the outrageous price of everything. she loved this city. choosing one with the glittery 'breeze bar' sign, she easily slipped past the huge, scary looking bouncer. she would have thought a place like this would be strict when it came to underage drinking. but i guess not. anyone can be bribed, i guess. or having sufficent status on the global fame scale worked, too. she recognized at least six people from valkyrie, and a few that had to have loitered in the los angeles scene for awhile. well, there you have it. carefully avoiding any high heels - who honestly could walk in those things? - she grabbed herself a stool at the edge of the long, dark marble bar. not one for dancing, she camped out on her little seat for awhile. the bartender serving her definitely made it worth just sitting there. "you need to actually try one of these things, dude. they're fucking...i dunno...epic. they're epic." a cheeky grin on her face, cassidy leaned across the bar, holding her empty glass to the bartender. obviously used to it, he only smiled at her, offering to make another. "absolutely. i need to get really drunk so you can rescue me." snorting at her flightly speech, cas leaned back on her stool, her grin replaced by a sly smile. she was normally high out of her mind, which meant acting more sober than having this amount of alcohol in your system. now she was enjoying herself just being foolish. it was a nice change.[/size][/blockquote]

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STATUS, complete.
TAGGED, dustin !
LENGTH, 1700 words. exact! xD
ATTIRE, clicketh + sandals.
NOTES, RANT. but finally. i'm going to like them.
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to all time low - "lost in stereo"

[Christopher 'Dustin' Harris]

DUSTIN HARRIS,
- - - - -
THAT BOY IS BAD AND HONESTLY HE'S A WOLF IN DISGUISE
BUT I CAN'T STOP STARING IN THOSE EVIL EYES
that boy is a monster m-m-monster
- - - - -

"And then there was peace." Christopher Dustin Harris, more commonly known as simply Dustin, leaned his head back against the head of the large red sofa as a stringly blonde mop of hair flew out the front door. Suddenly the quiet seemed so amazing and Dustin shut his eyes to absorb it all in. It was so nice to suddenly not have his younger sister running around the house in her tarty outfits and chatting loudly to on her cell phone or worse; bringing her friends over and having multiple loud female voices shouting and drowning out the basketball matches on the flatscreen. Honestly, she'd only moved in, without Dustin getting any say whatsoever, about a few weeks ago and already she had practically taken over the entire house. The fridge in the kitchen was full of girl food like salads and weird chocolates that tasted like fish and peanuts. Why anyone would want to eat anything like that Dustin would never understand. Secondly, the other day when he did a load of washing, his favourite white t-shirt and Dustin rarely got any time in the bathroom anymore.

For some guys this wasn't really a problem since all they needed to do was wash their face and that could be done by splashing water over your face in the kitchen sink but Dustin was not just 'some guy'. Hell no. Dustin Harris was famous, bitch! He needed to keep up appearances all the time unless he wanted to appear on People's list of stars who look crap without make-up. Not that Dustin wore actual make up like girls. He just had certain moisterisors he needed to use and a hell of a lot of hair products that were necessary to keep his hair looking as awesome as it did. His good looks definitely came naturally but there was no harm in just emphasising those good looks was there? So you can see the anger that Dustin felt now that he was currently forced to wake up about an hour earlier every morning just to get some time in the bathroom every morning. What did Maeghan need to do in there anyway? She was a lost cause and three hours of trying to fix that with make-up wasn't going to do any help whatsoever. At least Dustin had the looks. And he got the brains too. He wasn't the Harris child who got expelled from boarding school for getting high at his own birthday party on campus was he?

Nope. Not Dustin. He was just the Harris child who was going to court in a little over a week for supposedly both physically and verbally abusing his ex-girlfriend in their home. That was much better. Insert a sarcastic snort here. Christopher Dustin Harris was just as bad as his sister actually, as much as he refused to admit it. Augh. What a mess his life had become. A few months ago everything had been great. He was a hot movie star with fans screaming for him. Now those same fans were screaming AT him, disgusted by what they were now hearing. At least the press was beginning to wind down a little bit now since it had been a few weeks. He hadn't seen many photographers around lately which was a relief although that would change when the court hearing arrived soon. Why couldn't everything just go back to how it used to be? Instead he was stuck in this stupid town with nothing except a stupid slutty sister to keep him company. Boring. Not even the television could entertain him right now. Dustin flicked through a few channels as this thought passed his mind. There really was nothing decent on, despite having cable. With a growl of frustration, Dustin turned it off and sat in silence for a moment.

What he really needed was to get away. Get out of town and live. If that was even possible. Anything too exciting and he'd be cursed for trying to have a life while his ex-girlfriend 'suffered'. Right. Like she wasn't having her own fun with Trent fucking Langford every single night while she lapped up the public's sympathy. It made Dustin want to be sick. Or to escape. Yeah, he needed to escape for a bit. Screw the press, screw his pact to his manager about staying in Valkyrie until the court case. He was getting out of here. But where to go? Dustin racked his brains as he eased himself off the couch. Well where had Maeghan said she was going? Something about a girl's weekend in Vegas? Perfect! He could go down and pretend he was supervising her and then go off and have his own fun! Well that would be his story if anyone asked him. He didn't have a fucking clue where Maeghan was staying and he didn't really care. He ran up to his bedroom and threw a few things into a duffel bag and within minutes he was out the front door. Well by minutes, this was about twenty since this was Dustin Harris and not even a few nights in Vegas would stop him from keeping appearances up. Still, twenty minutes was much quicker than the four hours that Maeghan took to zip up her bag. Dustin was way too eager to get out of this stuffy town so it wasn't long until he was out the door, in the car and flying down the highway on his way to Las Vegas.The whole ride there, Dustin couldn't get the excited and relieved smile off his face. He was actually going to do something for himself for the first time in weeks. As he drove he called up a few hotels in Vegas and with a bit of name-dropping, he had himself a nice luxury suite in one of the more...higher class hotels found in Las Vegas. None of the trashy places with bad room service. No sir! He was going to be living the life he should be. This was almost too good to be true.

But you know, as soon as someone thinks this, it usually does become too good to be true. Because as soon as Dustin arrived at the hotel and climbed out of the car, handing the keys over to some random hotel worker who got the lucky job of parking rich people's cars, he heard the dreaded click of a camera, followed by a familiar flash. Turning his head, he spotted a bunch of paparazzi guys standing a few metres away, clicking away frantically. Damn it, why hadn't he at least tried to disguise himself a little? Idiot. Turning away to ignore them, Dustin headed into the hotel to check into his suite. It wasn't anything to get too excited over. Dustin had stayed in much fancier suites but it was nice enough. Still, Dustin wasn't planning on staying in the room for much of his time here anyway so he didn't really care. After a quick shower to freshen up, he was out of the hotel and headed towards the nearest club which apparently was called 'breeze bar'. It looked good enough and he'd arrived in Vegas pretty late so it was fairly dark now so hopefully the clubs would already be packed enough that he could sneak in without causing too much attention.

Slipping past the bouncer with ease, Dustin walked into the nightclub and let out a quiet sigh of relief. This was more like it. With the music blaring at a decently loud volume and people littering the dance floor with drinks in their hands, Dustin felt more at home than he'd felt in the past several weeks. Who cared if the paparazzi spotted him? Who cared if this didn't help his case? He deserved a night or two of fun. Vegas definitely fit the description of fun. And speaking of fun, as Dustin headed over towards the bar, he spotted a lone female figure sitting on a stool, glass in hand. Interesting. What was even more interesting was how well Dustin recognised that figure, even from a distance. He quickened his pace, manouvering around a huddle of drunk girls trying to stand up straight together and finally reached the lone girl. Dustin smirked as he sat down on the stool next to her and leaned over to speak. "Well, well, well. Cassidy Slade. Keeping out of rehab I see."

- - - - -

STATUS; ridiculously late but finished !
TAGGED TO; cassidy slade !
TIME/PLACE; mid evening nov. / breeze bar, treasure island LA
CREDITS; format inspired by v-siders. lyrics by lady gaga.
OUTFIT; sexytime is here xD
NOTES; augh so late but my muse is returning! and a facechange may have helped xD but yay for dustidy!

- - - - -

[Cassidy Slade]

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NOVEMBER, 2007. MID-EVENING. BREEZE BAR (TREASURE ISLAND).

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- - - BEING DRUNK FELT

[/b][/font] weird. it felt funny, actually. she hadn't not mixed drugs with alcohol in so long, the experience was somewhat foreign to her. that's what happens when you're an experimental user. you start on the small stuff - hard liquor, maybe some pot. but then you get bored. you dare yourself to try something new, just one time. well, how many times is it just one time? she'd been doing it one time since she was seventeen. that was simply the way addictions worked. they escalate, because people grow bored easily. why do you think peeping toms slowly turn into perverts, and then rapists? then rapist-murderer people. it's the same equation. that's how cassidy fell into hard drugs. because, when you try something 'just once', you discover that it's way more fun that being drunk and mellowed out, smelling bad. her first time was an acid trip, experimenting with danger levels of LSD. jumped in head first, she did. it was nothing special, what happened to her. she simply lost her taste for alcohol, beginning to crave the out-of-this-world experience that came with hallucinogens. even when acid got too weak, she began to search for something stronger. that's what happens everytime someone gets involved with drugs and alcohol. after awhile, she had tried everything. that's when she fell into the solid title of an addict. she knew what she liked, she knew what would give her the best high. she could tell what was weak, and what was worth it. when you finish experimenting, you know which direction you're going - depressive heroine addict, suicidal and locking yourself in the dark; high-powered executive with a cocaine addiction, just to keep you going; or the way she had gone: wild party girl constantly searching for a good time. who knew, that after all this time, the good ol' bottle could give her a good time.

she wasn't handling her alcohol as gracefully as she did drugs. she took small doses of acid, rarely inducing enough to secure hallicinations. that last time she "saw" sounds was more than six months ago. the mild euphoria that came with fifteen milograms was enough to keep her functioning. it was at house parties did she play with the pharmacy bowl. everyday, it was another story. you know, as you slowly dwell deeper into addiction, the need for experimenting vanishes. she rarely touched alcohol, unless it was at one of those messy parties down on the beach, or in someone's wreck of a home. but that didn't mean the small stuff didn't still work. cas had only decided acid to be her drug of choice, as it wasn't considered addictive. imagine being strung out, desperately searching for your next hit of crack or something. uhm, no. those people are fun to mock, though. where were we? oh. right. alcohol. the point of this was all that she couldn't handle her poison as well as she remembered. the way these girls walked around in their four inch heels, barely stepping out of line, was impressive. not to mention kind of creepy. she'd seen sixteen year-olds taking four straight shots of tequila - all in a row - and coming back for more twenty minutes later. who's going to need a new liver by the time their twenty-fifth birthday rolls around? and AA. and an intervention. can she call it now? these girls are going to be on the show in less than ten years. don't worry, it'll be around. that show cannot be cancelled. what would she do on monday nights? yet, here she was, on her second double-shot drink, and she was grinning like a five year-old on christmas morning.

a five year-old stretched across the bar, actually. half of her torso was laid on the dark bar, hands hovering on the other side, haphazardly holding her empty glass. hey now, no judging. it was damn comfortable. "y'know, you should cut me off now. no. after this one, that you're making right now. i've become a lightweight. so i'll become a slobby mess soon, and that's not cool." the same elfish grin on her face, cas spoke in slurred tones as she watched the amused bartender mix her another another vodka-something. she didn't even know what she was drinking, only that it was strong. super strong. like...superman. maybe it was called a superman? that'd be a fly name, yo. apparently she thought in '90s terms when intoxicated. interesting. as soon as the clear drink was back in her hand, the actress leaned back on her stool. toying with the bright red straw, she hazily turned to look around the crowded bar. a lot of people were here. they smelled like sweat and sex and trying-to-have-sex. on the dance floor, really? at least go to the bathrooms like the less-nasty girls. "ow. no fair." speaking to herself, not paying attention, she cursed herself. why? she'd almost fallen off her rather cushy stool. snorting again, cassidy crossed on leg over the other, sloppily attemping to appear somewhat sober.

okay, well, she'd be lying. she wasn't that drunk. she was tipsy, yes, but that's only because she hadn't had alcohol in so long. she'd been a heavyweight during her high school years, so shut-up. but she wasn't feeling the out-of-body experience quite yet. happy not to. because it felt weird. she didn't like being head-smashing drunk, thanks. even just being tipsy, slowly approaching a happy balance of being drunk and shitfaced, still felt funny. the fact that the bartender working in front of her deserved a cover on gq[ gave her all the more reason to act flighty and giggly. that wasn't so much an act as playing up the stupid-drunk bit. maybe she could get rescued by the heroic worker, happily living out her weekend in vegas. that would be ideal. it's not like she had anything to go back to in valkyrie. knowing she had to be back in los angeles bright and early monday morning would be more secure. she'd actually be responsible about things. contrary to popular belief, the slade girl took her acting career seriously. it came before all of the trivial bullshit she pulled for something to do. leaning one elbow on the marble countertop, head leaning on said hand, she turned the half-filled glass with the other, watching the liquid spin around slowly. dangling her long, crossed legs toward the floor, she continued to watch her surroundings. dancing was so stupid. who honestly came here to gyrate foolishly to top 40s? she could do that in her living room. not to say cas never danced like a moron. she did quite often as those super popular house parties. but that's different, she never knew what the hell she was doing. these girls were wasted and dancing with each other, flirting to tear their cocktail napkin dresses off for the boys with cameras. in what way does that sound fun? finishing off her drink, slowly feeling the real effects, a twisted smile crossed her face as she fell into a self-debate about what was nastier: girls who dance with each other or the girls giving handjobs in the center of the dance floor. it was a close call.

"Well, well, well. Cassidy Slade. Keeping out of rehab I see." her amusing comparisons were so rudely interrupted. by a voice. who the hell knew her name? well, a lot of people. but they never approached her in clubs. even before her infamous tabloid covers, the word was that the indie darling was catty when it came to the nightlife. and they would be very correct. she never kept her mouth shut while partying. a sweet girl looking to talk to her favorite actress, well, that's different. people obviously using her for...whatever, that's annoying. or bumping into her. either or, it pissed her off. anyway. said voice obviously knew her, as everyone knew she'd bite your head off otherwise. lazily turning her head to look at the body behind her, her expression changed to drunken euphoria at the sight of dustin harris. while the rest of the world decided the boy was a waste of space, she got over it. friends stand behind friends, don't they? he made a mistake. wow. amazing. she made mistakes all the time. besides, the infamous disgraced hollywood duo was a hell of a lot more fun than slutty young actresses who don't wear underwear. they judge you too much. leaping out of her stool and throwing her arms around his neck, she sloshed half of her new drink onto the tiled floor. "dustin! slowly pulling away from him, her bright eyes examining her old friend, the same childish grin crossed her face. it had been so fucking long since she'd seen him. they'd originally worked together on some up-and-coming film. he got the stardom, she didn't. oh well. whatever. she liked him. "only recently," settling back onto her stool, swinging around to face him, she resumed her former position. "but fuck that. it was boring. my mother is babysitting me. i have to live in some creepy big house and it's all stupid." cutting herself off ( the rants about her mother could go on for hours ), cas grinned again. "but you, mister badass. what's this i hear? another disgraced child star? how have you been?" that was all teasing, the friendly sarcasm she had developed just for her friends. he was one of the only familiar faces she was happy to see.[/size][/blockquote]

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STATUS, complete.
TAGGED, dustin !
LENGTH, 1656 words.
ATTIRE, clicketh + sandals.
NOTES, fiiinally. oh, they're so epic.
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to all time low - "lost in stereo"