2019-10-03 - The Midnight Breakfast Of Friendship

On the beach four frost-tipped gentlemen swing their arms close to each other, lip-synching to their own hit back in the 90's. There is a small camera crew with them, despite their last hit having been way back when, and most of this revival being four men who bought into a Kickstarter troll campaign.

The five middle-aged men with sagging muscles and bronzed, leathery skin shake it for the camera, and despite the sadness of it all for those mean enough to capture it, every boy band needs its share of hot babes for their clips. Enter Aubrey.

Aubrey is resident Main Bikini Babe. The outrageously young thing that is the target of the four grampas' lust, the trophy to be won after their volleyball competition.

As D-J asks for some time, feeling out of breath from half-dancing on the sand for a while, the crew takes a little time. When that time is taken, there is Madison, standing by the director, "Oh, so let me get this right. You will film this bullshit, but you won't film my band?"

"They pay in dollars, not in cantrips, Madison," the man readily answers, eyerolling. Madison proceeds to dog her friend for the next few seconds about exposure and great opportunities and future videos for when her band has exploded, but no dice. In her pursuit of fame, that leaves her by Aubrey, now wrapped in a robe she had to bring from home.

"Wow, what an asshole, amirite?" She eyes the woman, and cants her head, "Oh shit. You are Main Bikini Girl! Up top, you dance fucking well. Too well to be with these weirdos!"

At the distance, the men size up their biceps, and there is a lot of touching and complimenting.

Despite her largely failed career, Aubrey still has an agent. Or well, she had one as of a few months ago. Possibly precisely because the jobs she could get always ended up being things PRECISELY LIKE THIS, that business relationship no longer exists. Or maybe she got dropped the last time she was arrested?

REGARDLESS of such minor and trifling details, they'd booked this job even before Aubrey had returned to Gray Harbor. She hadn't planned on coming back under the circumstances she did, but she had planned a vacation back home for a month or two to 'regroup,' as she liked to think of it, and of course to live free of rent while she pondered her next ill-advised career move. As it turned out, she DID end up back under much more ominous circumstances. She also wasn't nearly so sure about her living situation. And all of those factors resulted in the fact that: fine, she would do this job, even though it felt like it was nearly winter and she was pretty sure these geezers weren't going to be her break-out platform into superstardom. Sometimes, a girl has to take what she can get!

And when it's all said and done, tackiness aside, it's hardly the most embarassing thing she's ever done on camera.

Walking from the filming area, she claims the robe - a rather ridiculously fuzzy-trimmed thing - and she quickly snaps that up to throw on over the bikini, hugging her arms across her chest and shivering a bit.

"I should kill my fucking agent," she declares, ignoring the detail of the fact she no longer has representation. "Who films a beach party in October?" All this ranting is more or less for her own benefit, or perhaps just to vent her very important frustration on the little people all around. That is, the others there working to put the whole thing together. Madison runs into her mid-rant, and the way Aubrey turns, she looks like she's ready to unload on the other young woman (or really anyone who happened to be standing there) next.

Except... "Oh my god, yes, totally." They have common ground in thinking these people are stupid assholes! "Um yeah, thanks, no, I know, it's a stupid job, I'm was right about to call my agent and complain, in fact... who are you?"

"Hahaha! Hey, it is stupid but it pays the bills, right? I mean, it is dog eating dog out there. It fucking sucks."

Madison smiles from above, her heels making, at the same time, nigh impossible for her to move on the beach and also way taller than Aubrey. With hands on her hips, the goth cants her head to the side with a lopsided grin. "Who am I? Girl, you come to Gray Harbor and you haven't heard of the Amulet?"

The black-haired pale girl eyes the actress as if waiting for the 'Oooooh! You are Madison Holloway! I have all your albuns! I got into Wicca because of you!' But no. It never comes. In fact, it comes in a frequency that is starting to alarm even Madison's legendary lack of self-awareness.

"Whatever. Name is Madison! I am the party technician!" SHe extends her hand for the other woman to shake. With a grin, her head always waggling weird side to side, Madison just eyes the bikini girl. "That means that if you need drugs, I'm your girl!" She points at herself with a thumb. She seems not to care about being identified.

"Her drugs suck. Don't do them. All natural shit, like frog farts or something," the director comments when coming back. Madison frowns, and then her head snaps back at Aubrey, "Look. Just going to level with you right now. I know we had that incident with Cannnibal Carrie, but that bitch was on bath salts, not my herbs. Ask the guys at the morgue!"

There is a pregnant as Madison just eyes Aubrey, trying to regenerate her legitimacy with a stare.

"Addington, you are up! Get close to C-J and I want to see that booty shaking, okay? Nobody wants to stay here longer than needed," says the director, as the Boyzz are finally gathered again, their leathery orange skins and artificially blond hairs with depressing hairlines making them almost monstrous. It is very hard to tell them appart, but C-J is the badboy.

He has a bandana, you see?

Madison stands there by the director as Aubrey gets to working.

The shooting is long, it starts to rain, and A-J says the rest of the Boyzz that is actually perfect because rain cleans the folicules of the skin and it will make them look extra rad. Safe to say that by the time it is all said and done, or Aubrey has quit her last gig, she finds herself leaving the set in a fury.

That is, until an umbrella finds its way over her head, as the Party Technician Madison appears to try saving the day. "Looks like you need a gimmie." She chin points at the Boardwalk. "Wanna grab a bite?"

"Unfortunately, I've lived in this depressing shithole the majority of my life, and I've still never heard of 'the Amulet'," Aubrey counters rather blandly. "Is that a..." A store? A breakfast cereal? Perhaps the other young woman will kindly fill in the blank. Or not. No, Aubrey doesn't seem like she cares enough to actually make a point of asking. The initial sense of common bond born of whatever mutual disregard for her employer seems to be rapidly dwindling, as she tolerates the barrage of commentary from her new-found hanger-on.

This may be reinforced as she gets through her immediate post-shoot routine (looking through her phone, and pretend angry-texting her non-existant agent), and actually seems to bother to properly LOOK at the person talking to her. Oh, she's one of THOSE. The kind of person who she wouldn't sit within three tables of in High School.

"Hmm what? Oh. Well. Look, that's wonderful, Madeline. If I need any mushrooms or strange bacterial infections, I'll be sure to let you know." She then shares a bit of an eye-roll with the Director, and uses the fact that shooting is soon to resume as a convenient excuse to promptly disinegage from this weirdo goth person before.

The show must go on!

... Needless to say, Aubrey doesn't make it to the conclusion. While the young ladyh has no reservations about gyrating in minimal clothing in public OR on camera (that's what, 70%% of instagram?), her work ethic is something else entirely. Mostly it's missing. Even if this wasn't a total disaster, she's poor at taking direction, impatient, short-tempered, and generally not the sort of person who likes to put up with things she feels are beneath her. And needless to say, this whole thing rapidly proves to be VERY far beneath her lofty estimation of self-worth.

"I don't care how A-J or C-J or P-J or any of them fucking look! This is amateur hour, and I'm not freezing my goddamn tits off for less than a million views! This nightmare will be lucky if it breaks a thousand."

Now she's outright in a shouting match with the director. "I don't care what you tell Cheryl! Fuck Cheryl! You can tell her I said that!"

Shortly after, she's stomping off, only to find Madison inexplicably waiting for her. "You're still here? Ugh. Whatever, fine. I'm hungry. You're not going to make me eat something weird, are you?"

"Amateur hour?! Oh, I am sorry, I thought I was dealing with a has been, not Gray Harbor's Beyonce! Yeah, yeah, throw your tantrum, this will be the last set you will ever visit! Not even all the couches in the world are going to get you another gig here!"

The director of this piece of crap sorely overestimates the movie scene of Gray Harbor, and it is quite obvious the skinny, thin-bearded man believes he is some sort of Scorcese.

The four Boyzz stare at the distance, wincing at the arguments, not getting into it. C-J has to go away for a bit as t he stress levels start to affect his tummy or something like that.

"Fuck Cheryl? FUCK YOU!"

Talk about making an impact!

An umbrella is swiftly taken from Aubrey's aerial vicinity, letting the sweet rain ruin her day further, as Madison herself doesn't even use the umbrella. Instead she closes it, using the thing as a cane, tapdancing on stupidly high-heeled boots as the rain falls.

"Wow! Are you ALL asshole, to the last molecule? I mean, not that it bothers me, I wasn't shaking my ass with four mutant half-carrotmen in the beach all by myself, but you were. I can go home to an awesome bed and great company! Get high, pretend this never happened. I don't need pick me up sweettooth! YOU do! So what do you think about cutting the attitude off? Can we do that?"

Madison tilts her head, that perfectly smooth hair soaking in the water and certain to be wavy by the time this is all said and done, but Madison seems willing to sacrifice her perfectly straight hair for this particular interaction.

"What? Only you have a shitty job? Only Main Bikini Girl's problems matter? So I'm the dumbass she will pass on the bad feels to? No way, dude! I am not in high school anymore! So here I am! Take it or leave it. Nice stranger with a weird amount of natural drugs in her car, or home and sorry ass microwave dinner!"

Madison poses, swirling the umbrela on her wrist in a way that goes surprisingly smoooth, showing the girl has some performatic ability.

"What say you, Alice? Want to see how deep the rabbit hole goes?"

Oh wonderful, now the weird goth-person is yelling at her too. Narrowing her eyes (although more like she's fighting of a migrane than STARING WITH VICIOUS HATERD), Aubrey takes a heaving breath, as if planning some retort... and then expels it in what just seems like a tired sigh.

"Look- Marilyn, was it? I'm not just having a very bad day, but a bad... week, month. So I really don't have a lot of patience. And I don't know how you know those idiots but, well, clearly you're not part of this whole ridiculous farce of a production, so you're right that it's really not your fault." If anyone is waiting for a heartfelt apology, that is the close as she comes!

The rain continues to fall, cold and depressing, although at this point the umbrella would probably be of mild relief at best, as she's soaked head-to-toe and down to the skin, the clothes she'd thrown back before storming off the set on already sticking to her. So it's not the cane twirling like some 50s dance number that holds her attention, as much as the other woman herself. Because otherwise, Aubrey is rather alone, just standing there.

"Let's start over!" she declares, and here summons a bit of preppy pep. "Aubrey Addington." And NOW she does offer a hand. "Now, I'm going to ignore several dubiously-accurate things you've said while trying to be cruel - it was fair play, after all - and take you up on the offer. Well, the first part of it. We'll see about your... herbarium, or whatever it is, as I'm a little cautious of things that look suspiciously like they should be growing on old bread." She's very particular about her drugs, see?

"Do you know anywhere good that's open? Admittedly, its been a few years." It's a poor excuse, since Gray Harbor doesn't exactly see the rapid turnover of trendy eateries that she's discovered in more metropolitan environs, and the places are all probably the same as when she was a kid. "We can grab a bit to eat and you can tell me about your necklace or whatever it was."

And this is her being nice!

"Madison!"

The correction is instantaneous, but Madison seems to be one not to get too upset about things such as mistaken identity, a smile on her face even if it keeps raining. She watches Aubrey though, as the miracle of life happens, and a woman once taken by her own Princess Syndrome buds into something more!

"Lets! I love do-overs!"

Again, immediately after Aubrey suggests they start again. All the while Madison keeps her pose, one foot ahead of her body, which leans slightly back, like she is showing off a product behind her or about to take a rabbit out of her inexistant hat.

"BOOM, baby! We are on, all right!" Madison finally relaxes and offers a fist that Aubrey can bump, "Madison Holloway, girl! Yeah, lets totally grab a bite somewhere! I know some awesome places and you are not going to regret this decision right now, like, ever. This one is a golden one! Zero regrets!"

She pops her umbrella open, by now useless to the both of them. The wind, however, has other ideas, and after she tries to keep it in her noodly arms, Madison stands there and watches as her umbrella fliiiiiies into the wind. She stares at it, silently cursing the instrument, now free to follow it s heart.

"Fucking umbrella. Anywayas! Yeah, drugs! Look, I don't sell anything I don't take, but whatever, we don't need to get high together! For now, I could go for a waffle. Fuck. I -need- a waffle." She approaches the other woman and loops an arm under Aubrey's, hooking it and guiding the woman away.

"Oh, and by the way, it is Amulet. My band. We are a pretty big deal around Gray Harbor, you will hear all about it. When you do, you can talk about me, okay? I am not really a private person to my fans!" Somehow, Aubrey can tell this situation will -never- happen but still. The level of detail to this delusion might surprise.

And so it is, that two unlikely souls shared a Waffle of Friendship in a cold night, and met in the streets of Gray Harbor!

The newly improved, reset, and more-or-less peaceful mood seems to suit Aubrey. For all her aggravating behavior, conflict is still kind of stressful! Her skin really doesn't need that!

"Oh, so it's a band," she has now finally pieced together, after... well, being told that it is in fact a band. But the information goes through her skull this time! It sinks in! "That's exciting, I love musicans." And here, there's an interesting twist. Although Aubrey is still very much sure she has never heard of this supposedly amazingly 'big deal band,' she doesn't actually make a point of ridiculing the fact. Musicians get special privileges when it comes to being ratty-looking nobodies struggling to make it big. That's part of the charm! And as great woman once said: 'I'll fuck any drummer.'

"So you play shows around town? I should come see one! And you can show me around back stage, introduce me to your bandmates." See above.

After this bonding moment, there is a second point upon which Madison finds no disagreement or disparagement: waffles. "Oh fuck yes, its is definitely breakfast o'clock at night. Lead on."

Madison's friendly posture finds no disagreement, with Aubrey linking arms happily as they seek out that particular late night poor decisions brand of comfort food.