Post by ANDREA CAMRYN AMES on Jan 26, 2011 0:03:03 GMT -5
BABY IT'S ALRIGHT NOW
YOU AIN'T GOTTA FLAUNT FOR ME, IF WE GO TOUCH YOU CAN STILL TOUCH MY LOVE IT'S FREE, WE CAN WORK WITHOUT THE PERKS JUST YOU AND ME, THUG IT OUT 'TIL WE GET IT RIGHT.
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Pretending that you weren't actually really you was tiring and tedious. Andrea had spend the last few days hiding behind sunglasses and tacky scarves and floppy hats just so she could get some peace and quiet. But tonight, she was abandoning that. Normally, she would never venture to the club by herself -- she always needed to have the comforting circle of her friends, or even acquaintances. She felt too exposed otherwise. But tonight, so what? If word got out that she was at Naughtical, people would be interested to see if it were actually true. Even people who didn't like her would probably want to confirm it for themselves and come check out the club. This was Andrea's primary plan of producing a crowd. Because once a crowd formed, she would have people to drink and dance with. Once she was under the influence and dancing around, she would have a good time. And Andrea Ames was most definitely in need of a good time.
Tonight's mission wasn't so she would let people know she was on the ship -- God, no -- she just wanted to meet people and actually do something. Her days had been so routine. Wake up, eat breakfast, go to the pool, have lunch, take a walk, get ready for dinner, go to bed. Her attempts at disguises seemed to be effective. Either that, or the people on this cruise weren't the type to get starstruck. She was getting lonely, though. It was a life of isolation she was laying out for herself, and it was damn time she got a little crazy. Hopefully by the end of the night she'd met a few people, shared a few drinks and a few laughs, and burnt off some of the calories she would be consuming.
Tonight was going to way different than going to clubs back in L.A. For one, paparazzi weren't going to be taking disgusting photos of her and selling them to the tabloids for money. It was the worst feeling when you wake up one day and find yourself looking obviously inebriated and sweaty plastered on the inside of a magazine. Not quite so attractive. Andrea honestly didn't care that she was a bit of a bad example to the teenage generation. So fucking what. If parents don't want their kids to see it, then they shouldn't buy the damn magazine in the first place. It wasn't like they were complete angels in their twenties either. When people told her she should be acting more appropriately, she told them to turn on the Disney channel and watch those preteens. Kids don't stay kids forever, and hey, it's not like she's underage. A bunch of Hollywood starlets end up in rehab or (God, forbid) jail. Partying was hardly a crime, and Andrea fully intended to take advantage of every opportunity she could.
With one last coat of mascara, Andrea popped the wand back into its tube and pursed her lips in the mirror, making sure they were extra plump and glossy. She put one hand on her hip and checked out her reflection in the mirror. It was almost drastic to see how different she looked in real life. She got so airbrushed in nearly all the photos published of her (except for the mortifying ones, of course) that sometimes it was a shock to even look at them. At first, she had been a little concerned with it. A picture would be in a magazine or a promo poster and she would think about how much they enhanced her boobs or made her waist tinier. It was fake, just like almost everything else in her world. For the millionth time, Andrea thanked herself for taking this cruise.
Once she was satisfied with her reflection, it was time to head out. She poked her head out the door of her VIP suite, and was satisfied that the halls were empty. She didn't want any awkward run-ins before she hit the scene. Not that she even knew what the scene was yet, but Andrea knew she could create one in no time flat. After reaching Naughtical, she stepped inside and found quite a few people in it actually. It was dark enough that she made an uninterrupted trip to the bar. The bartender stared at her for maybe a moment longer than usual, but Andrea just stared back with her icy blue eyes and almost dared him to say something. He didn't. Instead, he just handed her a shot, which she graciously accepted. After a few shots were down, she was definitely feeling tipsy.
Her mind whirled back to her last encounter with her brother, Noah. When she was younger, she always swore she wasn't going to be like him. She said she would never drink alcohol because she saw what a monster it made him. He was scary sometimes. His eyes would bulge and he would spit and couldn't form coherent thoughts or string together simple sentences. He was an angry, mean drunk, and Andrea never wanted to lose control of herself like that. It was ironic, really, that when he left, it was the cause that started her to drink. Like, really drink, not just a cooler here and there. At first she'd hated herself for giving in, but eventually she just started pretending. It was so easy to pretend. There had been numerous accounts where she would just say she didn't even have a brother. The select few that knew the truth just eventually stopped asking about him because they knew it was a touchy subject. As far as Andrea knew, Noah was doing fine on his own. Or at least, that's what she told herself, but who was she kidding really. He had an addiction and she knew addicts didn't just miraculously get better. He was probably in debt to someone. Andrea was used to getting calls from people demanding to speak to Noah because he owed them money. It was kind of satisfying to tell him that he didn't even live there anymore. That had been practically another lifetime ago. So when Andrea first picked up the bottle, she made herself a promise that no matter what, she would never become like her brother. She'd kept her promise so far, but there was always that nagging thought in her mind that one of these times she would go too far. She prayed to God that it wasn't tonight.
The sound of somebody sidling up next to her at the bar sent her thoughts back to the present. Some slimeball was ordering some nasty sounding shot. When he laid his eyes on her, it dawned on him. Andrea did not need confrontation with this greasy drunk, so she took that as her cue to slip away onto the dance floor before he could even slur out a few words. As she made her way to the dance floor, she could hear the whispers, feel the stares. Good. She felt gratified that people were acknowledging her finally. Her days of disguise were over. It was time to let loose, get wild, and forget all her troubles. It was Saturday night.
Let the games begin.
--tagged; OPEN
--words; 1,203
--lyrics; the way i are - timbaland ft. keri hilson
--music; sway your head - we shot the moon
--notes; i was bored; anyone and everyone feel free to pop in!