Thread: Going Down? (Traveler & Charlotte)

He wasn't going to to go home that night, not after the endless calls and texts from Vanessa, but the pale ginger he had fucked on the bathroom counter was getting too clingy, so he dumped her with her friends and spent an hour outside, sobering up before going home. He sat in the passenger seat when he thought he was ready and pulled the breathalyzer out of his glove compartment. A few puffs later and he gauge confirmed he was good to go. Good. He didn't need a damned DUI fucking up his credibility with the people he worked with. That would royally screw up several multimillion dollar deals. Nobody had time for that shit. The windows had been left open and the apartment reeked of perfume. His eyes stung. After walking around, turning off the extra lights that had been left on, he finally found Vanessa passed out drunk on the couch. She was wearing some ridiculous teddy that she must have thought he would have liked. He found it desperate at best. Cheap and tawdry were more the words that sprung to mind. As he loosened his collar he walked to his bedroom, where the bed was still stripped down, the stain was still on the bed, and the damned cat had taken up residence, right in the middle of the mattress. A swiftly thrown bottle of some shitty perfume later and a very smelly, very irate cat was screeching out of his bedroom and licking it's pride on the living room floor. The next morning he had left early. A note for Vanessa had been pinned to the front door, with the instructions to be out in 72 hours. He was done. They were done. She woke with a start, her head blurry and her eyes hurting from the sun. Why had it gotten so bright? She rubbed her face and stared at the window for a long moment as she tried to remember why she was on the couch. Hung over eyes looked down at her outfit. Oh... had they had sex? Was it a kinky sex night? Vanessa glanced around, her dark hair frizzy on her head and her mouth feeling like it had been stuffed with dirty gym socks all night. Jacob? Her voice wined as she looked around. Her cat purred loudly, rubbing up along the couch. He slid under the glass dining table and his tail caught the edge of a wine glass, spilling the red liquid all over the white carpet. Jacob? She stood up on unstable feet. Looking down she figured it out she was still wearing the four inch strappy heels she had put on to go with her sexy outfit. She struggled to kick them off, using the couch to pry the back of one of the straps off her foot, then stumbled towards the front door. His note made her burn with anger. Who the hell do you think you are? She sneered at no one. She was getting angrier. Who do you fucking think you are? I'm the star! I'm the big shot! I tell you when we're done, not the other way around! She screeched and balled up the paper. With a banshee cry she hurled it across the room and accidentally hit the cat, who cried out in surprise and ran from the room. Fuck you! Vanessa shook her fist at the door. I didn't like you anyway! You and your stupid car! You asshole! She dropped to her knees, the anger succumbing to something else. She sobbed in her hands and felt like it was unfair that anyone else in the world might be happy if she was not. Her day had turned to shit. Thus, everyone else was going to have a shitty day also. Her eyes were still puffy when she arrived at the studio. Her hair was a mess, her complexion splotchy. Everyone instinctively knew to keep clear of Vanessa. She snarled at the coffee girl and pushed away her usual fruit bowl. There was something going on, that much was certain. Someone get me some coffee! Vanessa pulled a cigarette out of her purse and lit it, puffing like some addict needing a hit. One of the interns started to tell her that smoking wasn't allowed inside, but the weather woman shot her an I'm going to kill you look and the girl skittered away. No one had ever seen her like that before. The girls looked at each other with trepidation. Who was going to approach her first? And with that attitude, would any of them survive?