- you sold yourself for your fame

[Thomas Ambrose III]

THOMAS. JESSE. AMBROSE. III.


( AND NOW I'M LIKE THE DEVIL )
( WELL IF I AM THEN WHAT DOES THAT MAKE YOU )

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----"WHO DO YOU THINK I AM? i don't do loans." tommy ambrose narrowed his eyes at the last sentence, looking at a client with cold dark eyes. "tommy, tommy. come on, come on. it's me man! you-you know me! i just need a little. i'll pay you back next time - plus interest!" dealing with druggies going through withdrawals aways reminded tommy why he would never do drugs. people would do anything for a hit. basically, tommy could tell this client to get on their knees and suck his dick for a packet of cocaine and they would. that's how desperate these addicts could get. but, tommy couldn't complain because he was getting money. money he technically didn't need, but did it anyway. "drew, ok, you've spent five minutes too long standing here. get the fuck out of my face and don't come back unless you have the money."

[/color] drew's shoulders slumped over as he continued to tick nervously. but drew knew better than to push it. tommy heard a few whimpers before drew took off running down the street. probably trying to find another dealer who he could bargain blow jobs for.

tommy was at his usual spot. across the street from the asian king restaurant. he already made some cash. from regulars and a few kids who 'was friends with this one guy's girlfriend's brother who was friends with tommy.' yeah, whatever, give me your money for a few hours of happiness. didn't hurt him. he knew there was always a risk that one kid he sold drugs to was an undercover cop, but he had been doing this for a couple years now. not that that protected him, but the police had their heads rammed up their asses so far that they were too busy trying to control the recent gang problem to look at the nicely-dressed kid on the street corner. besides, he really couldn't see himself going to jail. it was amazing what money could really do. tommy's father, thomas, might ignore his only son, but if tommy was in trouble, it seemed to awaken some shred of parental support in thomas. though thomas would probably try and whip tommy into shape. he could see it now. "selling drugs, tommy? really? what were you thinking? how could you be so stupid!" tommy would sit there, taking it before heading out for the night. thomas was a great rule-enforcer, as if you couldn't tell. he was just glad his step-mom didn't try meddling with being some form of parent to him. he was almost eighteen, this chick was his new mom for barely a year, so any form of trying to 'parent' him would be useless. his own father couldn't. tommy basically parented himself and you could see how that was going.

this year, tommy was a senior, finally. though, he tended to always act like the popular rich jerk from probably around freshmen year, but now that he was part of the big dogs on campus, it gave him more of a reason to act the way he did. a sneaky rich boy that says whatever he is thinking. yeah, he was extremely rude, brutally honest at times, gloated in the fact that he came from wealth, and generally rode through life on his imaginary high horse, not caring because he didn't need to. he didn't really know if he was going to college. he was surprisingly really intelligent, but had a rather hard time applying in anything. as of now, he saw college as a waste of time. maybe because he didn't really want to go in at it right away. kind of take a year of and go back into it. though, the statistics were against him, since typically, students that take a year off don't generally go back. however, tommy's view on college could change in the next few months, and thomas will start really pushing university on top of university on him. because no way is an 'ambrose not going to college.' yeah, his dad was big on tradition. just like when tommy was to have kids, (yeah scary thought,) he would name the boy, (because it would be,) thomas ambrose iv. now, that's just cruel. and kind of... arrogant. that you think you're so great you need to name your kid after you. that was one thing tommy wanted to not happen. he was already cursed with some idiotic 'iii' at the end of his name, why would he want his own kid to suffer? besides, tommy would not want his kid to hate him like tommy did to his dad. this time, the third thomas was going to learn from past mistakes.

it wasn't cold at all for the warm califronia night. but he wore his jacket anyway. made his little business here more legit for some reason. he pulled his last cigarette from behind his ear. maybe with some of the money he made tonight he would go to the nearest gas station and buy a new pack. usually nights like this consisted of a lot of waiting around. he really only got the thrill when the actually deal was taking place. watching the nervousness in the client's eyes upon seeing their hit. tommy, keeping his usual composure of relaxed and dangerous. yeah, rich boy tommy trying to pull off a finn turner stance. though it wasn't really 'trying' since tommy was really good at looking less like a spoiled brat and more like professional drug dealer. he waited around some more, selling some more weed and cocaine to a few people he knew from school. the night dreaded on as he absent-mindfully wondered if he had any homework and what were the chanced he would actually do it. his cell phone buzzed and he saw daphne hayes left him a text of an address to some party and that he should come. he texted back a 'maybe' and that 'he was working.' though, a party did seem like a lot of fun. maybe he should just close up shop for the night and do the other thing he did best. get some attention at a party and dance with other guys' girlfriends.


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______________

[/color][/center]
STATUS, complete
CRED, format and graphics to me
LOCATION & TIME, streets, october 4, 2007
LYRICS, 'jealousy' - PARIS HILTON
CLOTHES, here
TAGGED, cas!
I SAY, the week was almost over, we needed to start this! & paris ftw!
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/font][/justify]

[Cassidy Slade]

( CASSIDY TAMARA SLADE )

OCTOBER 4TH, 2007. EARLY EVENING. THE STREETS.

[/size]
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baby, where's the glory,
IF ALL NIGHT, ALL NIGHT, YOU'RE ATTENTION IS NOT MINE
PLEASE DON'T LET IT BEGIN. YOU'RE UNDER MY SKIN.
IT'S A SIN 'CAUSE YOU'RE STARTING TO WIN.
-----------------------------------------------------------[/color][/center]

- - - SHE WAS TOO

[/b] busy giggling to take any notice of her surroundings. curving her thin arm around the waist of her now-faceless companion, cassidy tamara slade was losing balance. a curved grin loosely hanging on her face, the indie darling closed her eyes as she leaned heavily into him. she had met up with this fellow - shane? shawn? - the previous evening, and had not left his side since. all she really remembered was he was familiar - an old friend from los angeles. the past twenty-four hours of her life had been a blur - dissolving little white pills into her straight vodka; smoking this and then that; injecting mysterious substance number seven. said mysterious substance number seven was the reasoning she was giggling into oblivion, struggling to walk straight. the past twenty-four hours, cassidy slade had been on a whirlwind of drug binges. she didn't remember anything too clearly, and didn't want to start anytime soon. feeling shane's firm arm grasp her closer, she sniggered softly and rested her chin on his shoulder, nestling her face into his neck. "i forgot how much fun this could be." her words were soft, muffled, as she spoke against his neck. bringing her other arm forward, across his stomach, she interlocked her fingers. "almost forgot."

she had, indeed, almost forgotten. ever since being forced to valkyrie by her no-name, pathetic excuse for a brother, cassidy had been clean. she remembered that day, even in her disillusioned state, much too vividly. it had been, what? mid-july at the latest. she'd finished wrapping her latest film, celebrating with the rest of the cast and crew. of course, she'd stayed out hours longer than the rest. with one of the cameramen, and an extra, in toe, she had only rolled into her apartment minutes before the sun really risen - seven or seven-thirty, carter had told her. rain was already spitting from the sky; it became a drenching downpour half an hour later. that was when she'd heard the all-too-familiar banging on her door. loud noises and coming down from a high do not work well together, just so you know. she'd stumbled drunkenly from the living room, tripping over the over-the-edge cameraman. wrenching the door open, all she managed to see was a face full of bruises before getting pulled right from the doorway and shoved into the frontseat of that smelly Pontiac he always insisted on driving. no one ever told her what he did about the cameraman and film extra. all he did was push her into the latest rehabilitation clinic, and then bailed. he was the one standing beside that god forsaken car the minute she was due for release, thirty days later. then he pulled her back into the frontseat, drove the two hours down to valkyrie, and dropped her off on their mother's doorstep. she hadn't seen him since. she hadn't seen her favorite thing since then, either.

and here we were - an odd ninety days later. it was reaching primetime in valkyrie, california. and strolling down one of the streets downtown were two individuals soaking up the primetime atmosphere. for the last solid day, cassidy had been missing in action. she had innocently slipped from the awkwardly-large estate she was now forced to live in, the previous evening, in hopes of meeting up with some old friends at a party down by the beach. had she ever. there was no actual plan to relapse this quickly. it just happened. one minute, she was arriving, requesting a diet coke like a good girl. the next, she was failing at playing guitar hero and looking for the next high. as always, she had stayed out much later than most everyone else. it always happened that way. once the party officially ended, she was out on the streets with a shady character, intoxicated out of her mind. the entire day had been one big, long acid trip. now that the twenty-four hour mark was coming up, things were beginning to come back into focus. it had been a long high - a record nine hours since she'd injected the LSD. she was merely acting drunk into next year now. feeling shane's arm come across her shoulder, she leaned into him more heavily. "you never were much fun otherwise," his voice, too, was highlighted with oblivious laughter. dissolving into giggles again, cas opened her eyes again to look at him. while still unnaturally saturated with color, she was able to see in front of her correctly for the first time all day. definitely coming down from her high. "i was so. remember that award show where i didn't win? i-i threw a microphone at the guy...what's his name? fred. he's called fred now. i threw a microphone at fred's head. you thought it was funny." grinning a slacked grin again, she chuckled haphazardly at the blurred memory. it had been funny.

coming upon the main street of valkyrie, separating the valks from the shaks, she was definitely near sober. the let-down had been a long, slow process. that LSD had been borderline legal. weak, weak poor excuse for a drug. you don't get high for three hours and then spend the next five or six acting like a drunken idiot. stupid. straightening her lopsided fedora, cas pulled away from shane for the final time that day. apparently he decided to get a job. give himself some sort of responsibility. he knew how hilarious she thought of him working at starbucks was. whatever pays the rent, he said. "make a no-fat, double half-something latte for me," speaking loudly to his departing back, as he crossed the street, she giggled again. now that the world was in the usual flat colors, she was bored again. restless. her stride somewhat crooked, cassidy slade took off down some random sidewalk again. nearly two months of living in valkyrie, she still had no idea where she was going. she didn't really care; it's not like she had anything better to do. ignoring the buzzing coming from her messenger bag ( it had to be her mother. gag. ), she instead fumbled around inside it, looking for her pack of cigarettes. while simply a social smoker, it gave her something to do with her hands. lighting it quickly, she lazily smoked the cancer stick, her other hand pushed loosely into the pocket of her shorts. pausing at another traffic light, her eyes finally began to search her surroundings. looking across the street, she raised her eyebrows. huh.

pulling her hand from her pocket to impatiently press the button requesting to walk, cas absentmindedly straightened her slouchy t-shirt. slapping the bottom of her sandals against the dirty pavement, narrowly avoiding bumping into another crosser, she took another drag of her cigarette. "now, i don't imagine daddy dearest liking what i'm seeing." coming to a stop beside her shiny new step-brother, cassidy looked him over. she'd met the kid only a few times, ever since her vile mother decided to marry an equally vile man - she didn't even know his name. dennis? something like that. she'd spent as much time away from her new 'family' as possible. all she knew about his son, tommy, was that he was only a few months younger, still in high school. and he was the stereotypical rich kid that she'd seen around so many times. not her type to hang out with. running her other hand through her messy hair, she paused and looked over at the well-dressed young fellow. complete opposite of shane. "i thought your extracirriculars involved like, croquet or something. daddy cut off your credit card?"[/size][/font][/blockquote]STATUS,, complete.
TAGGED,, tommy !
LENGTH,, 1316 words.
CLOTHING,, hurrr.
NOTES,, WOO. still getting into cas.
CREDITS,, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to PARIS HILTON - "screwed."[/size]

[Thomas Ambrose III]

THOMAS. JESSE. AMBROSE. III.


( AND NOW I'M LIKE THE DEVIL )
( WELL IF I AM THEN WHAT DOES THAT MAKE YOU )

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----TOMMY SAW SOMEONE COMING towards him. at first, he didn't know who it was. it was a chick by the way she was sauntering towards him. oh... his girl clients always were a mystery to him. you see, tommy had rules. yeah, the drug dealer had some standards when it came to girls. tommy, being the professional that he was, wasn't one to mix business with pleasure. if you were a girl, tommy would not sleep with you if he was dealing to you. this was because it could get messy and this rich boy didn't want to go down that road. he was a stickler to his word too. ask some of his ex-girlfriends. if they wanted some, they'd have to find their drugs elsewhere. this was mainly because drugs cost money and even if tommy technically didn't need the money, he didn't want to get cheated, because who would be expecting the free drugs? how do you ask a girlfriend, or a girl you were comfortably sleeping with that if she wanted a hit, she'd have to pay? exactly. and then there was that whole mess that they might just be in a relationship with him for the free drugs. yeah, tommy was a player, but if he was in a relationship, he didn't want to be played. so, if you wanted to sleep with him, you weren't going to be buying from him. and if you wanted some drugs, whatever you and tommy had was done. this system of his had been working quite well, and he was sticking to it.

until he was able to see who it was he couldn't peg what type of client she was. at first, he didn't recognize her and wondered if she was some noob who didn't know the difference between oxycontin and ibuprofen. then, it clicked. it was his step-sister. using the term 'step sister' loosely considering he only met this supposed relative about three times in his life. it was pretty much, 'hi, i'm tommy' at the wedding between his father and her mother. but, she was like, some lindsay lohan actress or something like that. not that he cared. he was too busy to be some supporting step-brother or some bogus shit like that. whatever information he learned about cassidy was from rants her mother made around the house. "now, i don't imagine daddy dearest liking what i'm seeing." he could have told her he didn't know what she was talking about, then he remembered she was like some hardcore drug addict. she could probably smell the cocaine in his pockets right now. tommy plucked her cigarette from between her fingers. he squinted at her and inhaled. "cassidy, right?" he said after the first drag. "aren't you suppose to be in rehab?" he handed her cigarette back to her after another drag. "i don't know how that stuff works. is it like two weeks and you're cured?" he wasn't being entirely mean, because he could be, but he'd like known her for now two-seconds and was finding her irritating. like, what the fuck was she doing down here at night dressed like she should be going to a club? better yet, what the fuck was she doing in valkyrie?

maybe if he actually knew his step sibling, he would have been less annoyed that she parked herself in front of him. but, maybe he should take this rare opportunity to get to know her. especially if she was staying in valkyrie for a certain period of time, breakfast would be awkward. she was around his age... maybe a year older if he remembered right. however, this whole sibling thing was kind of weird. he knew he had an older step brother too. some hockey player or rugby or polo... well, some other sport. tommy grew up by himself. no siblings to play stupid games with. he had a father that was never around and a mother who seemed like a ghost half the days when she didn't take her pills. so, as you know, tommy grew up a very lonely life. very independent too. there was a reason why he did his own thing more than half the time.

"i thought your extracirriculars involved like, croquet or something. daddy cut off your credit card?" tommy laughed and nodded. that was a good one, he would admit. typically, people were surprised that someone like tommy was a drug dealer and actually enjoyed it. clearly, he didn't have to work a day for the rest of his life, but here he was doing something for the community, as illegal as it might be. he was young, rich, and didn't just have and unlimited supply of drugs he just gave to friends, he actually sold them. "he wouldn't dare. you must got me confused with your mom." he smirked slightly. he knew there was some tension between mother and daughter. that was one thing they both shared. dislike for the people that raised them... more or less. "but croquet is actually on sundays. at the grandparents' estate. brunch, champagne, the whole nine yards. if you stick around long enough, you'll be forced to go too." only slightly true. sundays were some brunch thing, but it wasn't really at his grandparents' house. it was at whoever thought they were important enough to host it. and croquet? he never played a game in his life. but why were such sports like croquet and horse races always associated with the wealthy? it was actually kind of embarrassing considering there was no actual physical exertion used. and it wasn't fun, because he watched croquet and had to get drunk to find it amusing. and horse races? putting money on a horse just sounded ridiculous. it was like putting your money in someone elses' hands. is he was going to lose money, it was going to be his own doing. like card games. "so, what's your deal?" he asked her. "because no one comes here for the sights."

______________

[/color][/center]
STATUS, complete
CRED, format and graphics to me
LOCATION & TIME, streets, october 4, 2007
LYRICS, 'jealousy' - PARIS HILTON
CLOTHES, here
TAGGED, cas!
I SAY, don't mind the new face or anything xD
[/blockquote][/size][/font][/justify]

[Cassidy Slade]

( CASSIDY TAMARA SLADE )

OCTOBER 4TH, 2007. EARLY EVENING. THE STREETS.

[/size]
-----------------------------------------------------------
baby, where's the glory,
IF ALL NIGHT, ALL NIGHT, YOU'RE ATTENTION IS NOT MINE
PLEASE DON'T LET IT BEGIN. YOU'RE UNDER MY SKIN.
IT'S A SIN 'CAUSE YOU'RE STARTING TO WIN.
-----------------------------------------------------------[/color][/center]

- - - TO BE HONEST,

[/b] cassidy had no idea why she was even making an effort. to her, being forced to come live in valkyrie was the equivalent of getting cut off: so unfucking fair. and yet, here she was, actually making some sort of effort into making a life for herself here. at the back of her mind was the six month plan she had half-planned out the moment she was back in rehab. within six months of walking into that damn clinic, she was going to be back in los angeles, in her own apartment, doing her own thing. two odd months in, and she was no closer to that than when she started. faced with that, she should have been doing everything in her power to convince her useless parents that she was clean and sober, could function on her own again. she had been since she was sixteen; she could do it now, at eighteen. not that she was. she was back to her old ways, and her mother wasn't even giving thought to her daughter returning to the movie scene. with the lost of trust with her parents, cas should have been making a proper effort. you know, fitting in with this new family or whatever charlotte slade was calling it. attending those boring charity parties and talking about foreign sports cars. that, everyone had told her, was the ticket to earning her freedom again.

not working. cas was making an effort, of course. just not in the right ways. she was preoccuping herself with fitting into valkyrie's local party scene. while lackluster at best, and severely lacking LA's zest, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. a few trainwrecks could offer her as good a time as any. just because she was doing it didn't mean she knew why she was doing it. four months left. she hadn't even began to attempt to manipulate her mother into thinking she was the perfect darling she had been four years ago. the moment anyone found out that she was walking in rewind, going farther back than she had in a long time, would be a lifetime of living at home. after her first time coming back from rehab, her mother hadn't let her out of her site for weeks. like she wanted to go back to that torment. a good girl would go right home, confess everything, and walk right back into rehab for the last time. a good girl would then dress up in a pretty party dress and smile nicely for all the creepy old guys who had too much money to support their five wives with. when was the last time she had been a good girl? her sixth birthday party, i think. before she'd accidentally-on-purpose lit the pinata on fire. a good girl would put up with security!mother for awhile until all of that trust was earned back. again, with the effort she was making in all the wrong ways, cassidy tamara slade was not a good girl.

as she stood on that corner with her new step-thing, the irony amused her. a good girl was supposed to make an effort to bond with the new family. she was. sort-of. charlotte had always told her that tommy was a nice kid, very bright future. she just probably didn't know he was some wanna-be badass drug dealer. but hey, she was talking to him. that's bonding, isn't it? the five minutes she had met him at the wedding for hadn't really counted. he looked to uptight and perfect in his suit then; pretty much the same now. as he took her cigarette right from her fingers, her eyebrows furrowed. really? he seemed the type to have manners. "cassidy, right?" scoffing lightly as he handed her cigarette back to her, cas looked down at the burning cancer stick for a moment, pondering. breaking the half-smoked stick in half and dropping it to the ground, stepping on the end with her sandal, she remained silent as she fished another from her pack. "left," speaking as she lit her own cigarette, she exhaled the smoke as she looked back at him. "cas. tommy. we're like old friends now." crossing one arm over her midsection, gripping her opposite elbow with her hand, she leaned her weight onto her right side. "aren't you suppose to be in rehab?" wow. "informed, aren't you? i wouldn't have picked you as the us weekly type. time, maybe." her voice unimpressed as she took another hit off her cigarette, she frowned lightly. "i don't know how that stuff works. is it like two weeks and you're cured?" huffing another scoff, she rolled her eyes. cute. "i don't know. try it out and you tell me." a hard look crossing her face, she raised her chin. "obviously not, doctor drew." she hated the taunts for being some sort of rehab failure. you try sober living. it fucking sucks.

five minutes, and her skin was crawling. half an hour ago, cassidy had been blissully coming down from a disappointing high. now, she wanted to fling a bong at this new step-brother of hers. did he honestly have any legitimate excuse for him to mock her? he didn't even know her. she didn't care about knowing him; she got a similar vibe from mister badass over there. "he wouldn't dare. you must got me confused with your mom." why did she assume that he wasn't being sincere? "why not? you don't throw tantrums, do you?" casually smoking her cigarette, cas glanced over to tommy, a similar smirk on her face. like him, she could sense the tension between him and his father. the same sort between herself and her gold-digging mother. disdain for the people who dared to raise them; yay for common ground. "but croquet is actually on sundays. at the grandparents' estate. brunch, champagne, the whole nine yards. if you stick around long enough, you'll be forced to go too." as he spoke, the indie actress pulled her fedora from her head, running her free hand through her tangled mess of waves. "my mom said the same thing. i don't have to wear a sundress, do i?" somehow, she couldn't see herself fitting in with tommy's world. not naturally. everytime she attended a big-name awards show, she looked awkward and out of place in a gown and heels. "the image of you talking about the stock market and college is inviting, though." she smoked the end of her cigarette before throwing it to the ground. "daddy doesn't know about your little habit, does he?"

it was weird, standing there with her step-brother. she had heard his name several time when passing through parties with students who attended the local valkyrie academy. apparently people knew who tommy ambrose was. she could feel their differences just by breathing differently. just something about him..."so, what's your deal? because no one comes here for the sights." arching an eyebrow at his words, she shrugged. who actually cared? "rehab was boring. i decided to try out your party scene." speaking lightly, she watched him for a moment. he definitely wasn't stupid. "on the contrary. i don't like being sober." looking him up and down, sticking her tongue between her teeth, cas smirked again. "so," taking a step closer toward him, tilting her head to the side, she kept smirking oddly. "what's the deal tonight?"[/size][/font][/blockquote]STATUS,, complete.
TAGGED,, tommy !
LENGTH,, 1282 words.
CLOTHING,, hurrr.
NOTES,, i love them<3
CREDITS,, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to PARIS HILTON - "screwed."[/size]

[Thomas Ambrose III]

THOMAS. JESSE. AMBROSE. III.


( AND NOW I'M LIKE THE DEVIL )
( WELL IF I AM THEN WHAT DOES THAT MAKE YOU )

[/color][/center][/font]

----EVER SINCE HIS MOM offed herself, tommy had never been the same. for the record, neither was his father. his father was always an intra-type of man, but he even got colder when his wife died. the supposed 'love of his life' was gone and behind was a son that had a fucked up back and zero social skills. a reason why tommy was so bitter towards his father was because he blamed thomas for his mother's suicide. if his mom got the help she needed, she could very well still be alive and tommy wouldn't hate his father as much as he did and maybe not even be a drug dealer, and not do everything in spite of his father. then this trainwreck in front of him could be his client or some hook-up and he never would have to live with charlotte, his step-mother. funny how life can send you a curve ball and everything gets fucked after it. it was like a domino effect.

he could tell now that him and his step sister were a lot alike. tragically rich, independent, kind of planned and ran their own agenda, didn't respond well to authority, and both could definitely party. tommy was tommy, and well, if you were some actress and gone to rehab, then you knew a thing or two about parties. and hey, they both preferred to not be called by their given names. tommy was thinking him and his new sister might actually get along. "cas. tommy. we're like old friends now." he nodded, "more like old siblings." tommy didn't read tabloids. reading about people more famous than him irritated him. yeah, he liked the attention focused on him. "your mom is my own personal us weekly, star, and intouch," he noted boredly and pulled the collar of his polo shirt up. the rehab comments must have hit a nerve. oops. well, tommy never pitied the addicts. so if you couldn't resist old habits, that was your own fucking fault. keeping risking your life while dealers like tommy were getting richer. but, he guessed he could lighten up a little bit. he had his own issues he'd rather not continue to talk about too, so he got it. "i don't know. try it out and you tell me." he pulled his hands out of his pockets and shrugged his shoulder and moved his hands as if to say 'whoaa, easy now.' "ok, sensitive subject, i get that."

"why not? you don't throw tantrums, do you?" he shrugged and shook his head. "even i'm a little old for that. i'm a rich boy, but not a brat. i generally just try and ignore my father. he ignores me. it all works out." he had to admit, rich kids did get away with a lot of stuff. those movies and tv shows weren't too far off base. somehow, adults got this notion in their head that just because their kids grew up taking manners class and musical instrument lessons that they were responsible citizens. because, you know, growing up with a solid roof over your head and everything you ever wanted didn't make them all greedy little bastards or anything. "my mom said the same thing. i don't have to wear a sundress, do i?" she wasn't one of those girls was she? here was one of his small philosophies: if you had a body, why not flaunt it off a little bit? she was less now than she would be. "yup. with a little cardigan too. look, love, if i'm wearing a pastel sweater, then you need to suffer too." another shrug and he said, "i don't worry about the future, waste valuable time in the present. college is in the cards... eventually."

"daddy doesn't know about your little habit, does he?" tommy laughed, a little too theatrical. people tended to assume just because he dealt he must be a user too. but no fucking way. he wasn't like that. he saw how it effed people up. their looks, their constant need to get high. was it every tempting? a little, but after awhile he just saw it as a product he sold. like hot dogs or newspapers. "there's no habit to tell - i'm not a user." though he liked examining their similarities, this was definitely where they parted their own ways. "rehab was boring. i decided to try out your party scene." haha, was this chick for real? she was one class 'a' drug addict in his opinion. failed at rehab, some party princess in los angeles. he was surprised he hadn't attended her funeral yet. because you know, even if he had no relationship with her, his father would have forced him too. something about 'she was your sister... and we need to uphold a perfect family image.' that man was full of so many lies and sick morals he was like charlotte. all about the public image. you know, actually? those two adults were perfect for each other. though tommy questioned if they even truly loved each other or if was more kind of like they both needed someone else in their lives. thomas was rich, charlotte was pretty hot for her age so then it just kind of worked.

"so, what's the deal tonight?" he knew it was coming. why would she continue to talk to him when she was a known drug addict and he was a known drug dealer. cas had stepped closer to him and tommy just stood there, looking down at her. "well the deal is i got so many pills from adderall to oxycontin to make a pharmacy jealous and enough weed and cocaine to make robert downey jr. question his sobriety." he paused for a moment, reaching up to touch her nose with his index finger, and lean in towards her. he made a face and smiled. "but for you, you get no deal." he straightened up and smoothed over his front. "you're my step sister and i don't deal to girlfriends and relatives."

______________

[/color][/center]
STATUS, complete
CRED, format and graphics to me
LOCATION & TIME, streets, october 4, 2007
LYRICS, 'jealousy' - PARIS HILTON
CLOTHES, here
TAGGED, cas!
I SAY, these two are epicc
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[Cassidy Slade]

( CASSIDY TAMARA SLADE )

OCTOBER 4TH, 2007. EARLY EVENING. THE STREETS.

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baby, where's the glory,
IF ALL NIGHT, ALL NIGHT, YOU'RE ATTENTION IS NOT MINE
PLEASE DON'T LET IT BEGIN. YOU'RE UNDER MY SKIN.
IT'S A SIN 'CAUSE YOU'RE STARTING TO WIN.
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- - - DESPITE THE ENTIRE

[/b] shit-loaded whirlwind in which cassidy had moved to valkyrie in, it wasn't really that bad. she just liked to think of it that way. forced to leave her career and life back in los angeles, back into rehab again, now to live with her mother? it was a perfect story to get pissed off about. wouldn't you? the situation itself sucked. duh. the place she was trapped in, however, wasn't all bad. deep down, she could have seen herself being happy here. valkyrie wasn't all that different from the city of angels, to be honest. smaller. much smaller. but there was the same diversity of people, the same sleepy city until the sun set. she knew there was a new film in production not far from the city limits, as well. there were rumours of several famous faces making homes here these days. she'd seen a number of familiar models. the papparazzi had followed her from los angeles here, pausing to take a photograph of the newly clean indie darling. tmz must have been thrilled. if she thought about it hard enough, valkyrie, california, was a tiny version of los angeles. as a born and raised LA native, that wasn't a whole lot of bad. at the moment, she was denying any sort of affection to the small, coastal city, but still. if, under any other circumstances she had come here, it wouldn't have sucked nearly as much.

she was finding that she was liking valkyrie, okay? the level of disdain toward her mother was sky-high, don't get anyone wrong. it just...wasn't so bad here. if her mother was out of her life, it was that much more tolerable. besides, the same old scene got boring after awhile. why do you think she failed at rehab so many times? if it didn't work the first three times, did you honestly think it would the fourth? hell to the no. all of that crap aside, she was finding it quite interesting here. the party scene was acceptable. the drug connections were fucking terrific. even the people weren't so bad. a gucci wallet with a american express black in a prada purse was overload, sure, but she could get passed that. wanna-be new york socialites could offer as good a time as any. if anything, watching the people she lived around frolick in their perfect little environments offered a good distraction. silently mocking the trust fund whores gave her less time to spend pissed off at the world. just living with someone like that was already making her life slightly more enjoyable.

similarities or not, she was skeptical about this new step-brother of hers. she barely got along with her blood-related brother. the whore slade honestly thought her only daughter was going to bond with some new kid she barely even knew? well, that woman had always lacked a few logicial brain cells. she could forgive her for that. casually smoking a cigarete, standing on that street corner with tommy, felt a hell of a lot more natural that her stiff no-talk car rides with carter. the moment he met tommy, on the other hand, would send her into hysterics for weeks. something to look forward to. unrecoiling her shoulders slightly, cas looked over to tommy. looking at him popping his collar up, she had to smirk and shake her head. wow. well, at least he had a brain somewhere under his arrogance and sleazy charm. she was, after all, in no position to tunr her nose at him. who was the failed rehab queen? who was the first to tell the world she was a trainwreck? point exact. "your mom is my own personal us weekly, star, and intouch." hah. and he found her mother amusing. not so bad, see? "don't get her started on the sports section. there's some creepy box in her closet with every clipping of me ever published. my brother, too." snorting at the very thought - which was true, thanks - cassidy threw her finished cigarette to the ground. not that she wanted to admit it, but this wasn't toxic. she didn't hate this place. and was beginning to not exactly hate the people here. almost.

"ok, sensitive subject, i get that." clucking her tongue lightly at his response, she shrugged carelessly. "you know when to back off. good." a dark tone overlaying her otherwise casual words, cassidy let the subject drop. as focussed as she was on having a good time, her lack of sobriety was a forever tender topic. the hold drugs had over her? it fucking sucked. made her feel powerless, weak. who likes that? "well, here's to parents that don't give a fuck," raising her newly unlit cigarette, she offered him his own from her half-empty package. "just tell daddy dearest he better ignore me, too. he creeped me out at lunch yesterday." smirking, she easily lit her cancer stick and looked over at tommy. money or not, those old businessmen type were about as exciting as wearing heels in a size too small. dennis ambrose seemed to be about as infatuated with her mother as with the limp salad she made him eat everyday. i give it three months before a messy divorce. that way, charlotte could at least live off of his blood money. she was sick of paying for her mother's everything. "yup. with a little cardigan too. look, love, if i'm wearing a pastel sweater, then you need to suffer too." hah. blood money, see? just imagining those classic garden parties was puke-inducing. "can i borrow a cardigan, then?" speaking dryly, she grinned at tommy, "something tells me you own more than i do. something also tells me you never stay in that pastel sweater for long." five minutes of being around him and she knew he was something of a player. people hook up at those things, don't they? manuel required, apparently.

in accompanionment to his sleazy womanizing, she had concluded that thomas abrose III was familiar with valkyrie's party scene. the number of parties she had attended in the past week alone was enough to tell her people knew who he was. it didn't take more than half of a brain. and, trust me, that is what most of valkyrie's female population consisted of. she loved it. while her own party scene was located on the beach, near the shaks, how different could tommy's snooty, rich person parties be? drugs were designer up there. because, you know, you couldn't get high on the same cocaine that brad pitt snorts. "there's no habit to tell - i'm not a user." at those words, however, she was forced to arch an eyebrow. everything about tommy seemed to be stupid rich kid with problems. they all like to drink and do drugs well before their times. interesting. apart from the proper drug dealers, she had never met one who didn't test his own waters. more like a drug pusher. maybe she'd underestimated him. make me a note to investigate this farther. "interesting. do you deserve a congratulatory fruit basket? i like the ones with the muffins myself." the familiar smirk overriding her words, she looked him up and down for several minutes. so, there was more than meets the eye with this one. she could handle that. cassidy, after all, liked to think of herself as a complex individual herself.

complex or not, she was still a relapsing drug addict. smart or not, she was still an addict. half the time she only conversed with people because she knew of their drug connections; she could easily manipulate her way into that ring. tommy, on the other hand, was a different story. she had only spoken to him this long because she knew he was a dealer. otherwise, she would have ignored him completely. what? the twisted smirk fading from her face slightly as he looked down at her, cas rasied her eyebrows briefly. okay then. "acid is more fun, i tell you. consider it for next time then, doctor." as he leaned forward and touched her nose, she withdrew her head slightly. no deal, really? since when did anyone around here even care? valkyrie had its similarities to los angeles, she had to admit. but never before had she honestly considered the people here were as serious about their drug games. as he smoothed his front, she leaned forward and rested her bent arm on his shoulder. resting her chin on her forearm, cassidy tilted her head to the side. "what about your boyfriends?" casually crossing one ankle over the other, a serious gleam danced in her eyes. "i can't imagine daddy being happy about his pride and joy being some dealer. but maybe i don't know him all that well." her voice was dark this time, no amusement or smirk in sight.[/size][/font][/blockquote]STATUS,, complete
TAGGED,, tommy !
LENGTH,, 1514 words -headdesk-
CLOTHING,, hurrr
NOTES,, already, they are. ftw.
CREDITS,, format and graphics to me
lyrics to PARIS HILTON - "screwed."[/size]