The crowd inside of the LAX club is going cray right now as they are hosting a special event for local rappers. They ain’t doing too bad right about now, but the crowd of hipsters and wannabes are eating it up. This is where a disgusted Chanelle Martinez pushes her way through the crowd, letting herself be known. Torielle catches up to her, trying to grab onto her friend’s hand to lead her back to the crowd. Chanelle rips her hand away from Torielle and holds a hand up in her face.
Torielle: Girl, what the hell is yo problem? This show is off the chain, and…
Chanelle: AND you be on some shit and you ain’t sharin’? This show is jank and honestly it makes me laugh. You got some fake ass Eminem up on stage rappin’ about sellin’ crack when I just saw him selling Abercrombie at the mall like last week! I don’t know why you ever dragged me out here tonight, girl, trust…
Torielle: We got a match comin’ up and we need to unwind. Like bad, girl! You bein’ a bitch right about now. If we lose, it’s gonna be your fault.
Chanelle rolls her eyes and walks toward the bar. She grabs onto the post nearby as she waits for her turn to order a drink. Torielle watches her from a distance as Chanelle tries to cool down. She holds onto her hips, which makes Chanelle want to be even more stubborn, flipping her long black hair around for emphasis. She mutters to herself as the bartender finally comes over to gather her order.
Chanelle: Yeah, git me the your finest…
”Awww, baby, that’s gonna be hard coz you iz definitely the finest thing up in this club right about now…”
Chanelle rolls her eyes and clinches her jaw as she turns to face the direction the voice came from. She sees something that shocks her to the core. A red headed, green eyed, fair skinned guy looking at her, wearing an oversized fur jacket. She can’t help but let out a loud laugh.
Man: You strike me as the lady with the right mix of ass an’ class. Go’ne and get her a dirty martini, double olive, and make sure it is done with your finest vodka. She will know the difference.
Chanelle: Who the hell you think you is, dawg? Macklemore wannabe ass orderin’ for me like he gone get in my pants coz he think he know me… Nigga please…
She puts a hand in his face, fighting the urge to claw out his eyes. His sparkling emerald eyes, the same shade as the olives in the martini sitting in front of her. More like the credit card going from his hand to the bartender. She shakes it off cause this dude was starting to look kinda cute.
Man: Put her on my tab, brother.
Chanelle: Uhhh, no, thanks for the drink, wanksta, but I’m good. I’m real, real good dawg. Peace.
She realizes her hand is caressing his silky smooth temple, so she slides down, feeling that fine sandpaper feeling of his whiskers and her hand shakes. She pulls away as he sets his cane on the bar… yeah, a cane! He is totally going there, girl! He stands up to shed his fur coat, revealing a black silk dress shirt, unbuttoned down to the third one. She wants to laugh so hard, but she can’t deny this dude had some serious swag for being a white boy. He holds onto her hand and gives it a kiss as she walks away in a mixture of disgust and delight. Torielle stands there pointing and laughing at Chanelle.
Chanelle: Bitch please! PLEASE don’t tell me the same girl who say she wanna jump Jamie Staggs’ greasy bones is laughing at me right now! I will put you down in a second, ya heard?
Torielle: Girl, Jamie Staggs is like two up on that fake ass gangsta, and you know I ain’t gonna tell no lie. Was that Macklemore? He sure got his get up from the thrift shop.
Chanelle: No, girl! I mean, maybe. No! I don’t think so… I was thinkin’ the same thing, damn it! Shut up!
Torielle: Whut, whut, whut, whut… I’m gonna pop some tags, only got $20 in my pocket… I, I, I'm hunting, looking for a come up, this is fuckin awesome…
Chanelle: I’m gonna kick ya ass girl! That’s a cold ass h*nky and you know it.
Torielle looks over to the guy walking up on them, and she lets out a howling laugh as she hugs onto Chanelle’s shoulder, stomping the floor wildly. Chanelle shoves her off and flares her eyes up at Torielle. She is ready to say something when “Macklemore” pops up on them with that gangsta lean that just proves Torielle’s point eve further. He passes Chanelle and walks right up to Torielle. He leans in as if he is about to whisper a secret but he says it loud enough for Chanelle to hear it.
Man: Laugh all you want. At the end of the day, I’m still the biggest… thug in this club. You know what they say about us Irish dudes…
He nods his head before popping out a card and handing it to Chanelle as he works his way toward the exit with his coat draped over his shoulder. Chanelle watches his walk out the door, studying his form as he disappears behind the black doors. She looks down to his card reading his name Cason Callahan. She seems almost stunned as Torielle comes over to the side. She taps Chanelle’s shoulder slowly.
Torielle: Cece… Is that true? Jamie’s Wikipedia say he half Irish….
Chanelle: GURRRRRL!
Chanelle shakes her head as she tosses back the rest of her martini. She starts to walk off, leaving Torielle in her wake to think it over for a minute.
*********************************************
True Talk
Outside on the sidewalk, Pussy Willow is seen with a microphone, standing against a brick wall like she scared in the neighborhood. She looks a bit relieved as Chanelle walks up on her with Torielle close by.
PW: Thank God you two are here. I saw some shady characters walking by, and…
Torielle: And what? You thought cause you was up in the hood, bein’ a blonde white girl, you was gonna get jumped? That shit racist! It ain’t like we up in the barrios or some shit, clappin’ back on ya cousin mom and shit…
Chanelle: Girl, you so wrong sometimes… It’s some shady shit out here, but we here for True Talk, P Dubz, don’t mind Torielle. See, we got us a big match comin’ up. It’s like they was tryin’ to get us a win already with this one.
Torielle: True dat girl! They put us against that six foot monster, but when you add our height together, we got over 4 feet on her! The advantage she had in Chelly don’t count now. See, Mark Ward be wantin’ to reward us for stickin’ true to Team SCW, and we gone win this shit. Ya heard?
Torielle cups her hands around her ears like she was waiting to hear a response from Pussy, who is still in shock from Torielle’s last outburst. She simply holds the mic out toward her in an attempt to keep some distance. However, Chanelle steps in and gently takes the microphone, smacking Torielle over the head with it before continuing.
Chanelle: Wait up. In case you ain’t heard it the first time, here the remix! Roxanne might be all big and shit, but there only one of her, and two of us. Two trained wrestlers against someone who wrestles in her underwear and whips dudes balls with a fly swatter in her basement? Ain’t had but three matches in the last year. Three lucky wins, but that ends at Saturday Night Seduction. Me or Tee Tee is gone be her first loss in a decade. Trust…
Torielle: TRUST!
Torielle and Chanelle high five as they walk back and forth, making noises as they circle a confused and scared Pussy Willow as we fade out from True Talk…
