A Dangerous Addiction:
*XtremJiggy*
7-14-200
If they knew what I knew. If they cared. If they
paid attention. Maybe they'd notice. Maybe they'd
realize that most of the time when they're around me
I'm fucked up on Cocaine. Bastards. They don't even
pay attention. Maybe if they listened to me. Maybe
if they talked to me they'd get it. Is this a cry for
help? Of course it is. What else could it possibly
be? I want them to know. I want them to care. I
want him to care.Yeah, him. My dear, loving cousin.
My dear, loving cousin who is so smitten with his god
damn girlfriend he can't even notice what's going on
with his own cousin. Bitch. I've known him longer.
I've known him since I was born. I'm 18 years old.
I've known him for 18 years.
He just doesn't care what the hell I do.
He doesn't care and he doesn't want to care.
Gotta love family.
***
"You suck."
"What?!
"You suck!"
"Uh uh, I don't think so. I dance better than you,
you monkey."
JC stared at his girlfriend. "Care to prove it?"
Cree laughed. "Oh come on, JC, you've seen me dance."
"Do it," he taunted, stepping dangerously close to
her.
"Do what?" she asked coyly, running her fingers over
his collar.
"This," he whispered and pressed his lips to hers
lightly.
"GET A ROOM!" Christine, a dancer yelled across the
studio.
"They're already in one," Catherine remarked dryly,
stretching her legs.
Christine shot her a look. "Thanks buuuuuudy." "No
problem."
"WHOA! Yikes! Get a ROOM!" Chris yelled as he
entered the studio, dragging his girlfriend Kelli
behind him.
"Hey Chris did you have sex last night?" Christine
called.
Chris turned towards her. "And you care because . .
..."
"You have a condom stuck to the bottom of your shoe."
Chris' eyes darted downward and Christine and
Catherine started cracking up.
"Made ya lo-ok!" Catherine called.
"Sucka!!!" Christine laughed.
"Haha NO." Chris turned back to JC. "Anyways, Jace,
I just wanted to tell you, I'm going on a cruise with
the most beautiful woman in the world here for a week
and I won't be back! EVER!" "That's nice. Come back
for the tour, all right?" JC was busy checking out
call sheets for the last video. "Yo, who the hell is
Maurice and why are we paying him this insane amount
of money?"
"Maurice makes your wigs," Veronica said as she
entered the room, placing a vase of flowers on the
table.
"Thanks, Rica," JC said sarcastically. "So nice to
know you memorize my life."
She smirked. "At least I don't NEED a wig."
"Ha Haaaaaaa, at least my name's not Rica Suave!" he
called after his best friend's retreating figure.
"Haha, JC got TOLD!" Chris exclaimed.
"Chris! LEAVE!"
"Psssshhhhh fine. See ya in a week. And yes, Cat and
Chris, I brought five boxes of condoms!" he yelled
across the studio.
"Honey, buying more condoms isn't gonna make up for
the fact that you can't use them!" Cat yelled.
"Viagara is available!" Cat slapped Christine five as
Chris muttered things under his breath, leaving the
studio.
"Y'all are just vicious," JC proclaimed, smiling in
the direction of his dancers.
"We know. We're just so damn good at it," Cat said,
hopping off of the windowsill.
"Shall we practice?" Christine followed her. "That we
shall. Where are the rest of us?"
"Do we constitute the rest of us?" Alyssa asked, being
followed in by Kylie and Mandy.
"Why yes you do because there's what? One . . . two .
... . three of you. And WOW would you look at that, me
and Cat are already here!" Christine smiled sweetly.
"Well, that has to be the first time you haven't been
late," Kylie muttered.
"Oh, excuse me, what was that?" Cat asked, leaning
forward and squinting. "Did you just say you have a
huge zit right smack in the middle of your forehead?"
Kylie's eyes grew large.
"Oh, that's not what you said? Well then you'd better
check that out, honey."
The dancers never really got along very well.
"Ok, before there's, like, blood, stop," JC said
heading for the door. "Cree's gonna stay here and
practice with you guys, so, have fun. Later." He
disappeared and the six girls looked at each other.
"Then let's get going," Christine said, turning on the
music.
***
"You know, Rica, if you keep frowning, your face is
gonna get stuck like that."
"You know, Jace, if you don't quit bothering me, your
face might get rearranged."
JC held up his hands. "Whoa Nelly."
He brought his hands to her arms and stood behind
her, rubbing up and down her arms lightly before
moving to her shoulders to massage.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"You're tense and bitchy, you need to relieve a little
tension."
"I have a vibrator for that, so if you don't mind . .
... oh, GOD, that feels good." Her head rolled forward
as JC's fingers worked deep into her back muscles.
JC leaned forward and blew on the back of her neck
where her auburn hair parted. It sent shivers down
her spine and she rolled her head from side to side,
letting him work his magic.
"Are you ever gonna let me work?" she asked after a
few minutes.
He shook his head. "Nope, never. Just because
you're, like, important around here when it comes to,
like, you know, my LIFE, doesn't mean I'm gonna let
you do your job."
"I do basically run your life, don't I?"
"That you do, and you're doing a damn good job." He
dropped his hands from her and patted her back
lightly. "So go work your magic, Suave."
She smirked. "Haha, that nickname got old in high
school."
"Are you saying we're out of high school?"
"Are you saying we're not?"
"I don't recall graduation."
"That's because you didn't go."
"Oh, yeah . . ."
***
Perfect. He's so fucking perfect. He has the most
perfect fucking life. Everything about him is
perfect. His perfect fucking car. His perfect
fucking house. His perfect fucking job. His perfect
fucking skin, hair, clothes, his fucking SHOES are
perfect. His perfect fucking girlfriend.
God, I hate her. She doesn't do me any good. She
stole away my goddamn cousin.
She's just the perfect fucking girl, isn't she?
She's the Marsha fucking Brady of this entire bunch.
Always Mary fucking Sunshine. She makes me wanna kill
myself.
I hate my life.
I'm such a good actress. None of those fuckers even
know. They have no fucking clue I'm wired all the
time. They have no fucking clue how depressed I am.
How helpless I am. Like any of them care.
They're all too wrapped up in their own shit to
notice anyone else. Anyone else like ME. Like me, an
18 year old girl screaming for help. Maybe if I just
overdosed one day they'd want to help me out. Yeah,
that'd be a treat.
To see the face on my dear loving cousin when he
finds out I overdosed on illegal Pixy Stix.
That day isn't too far off. He'll care then, I bet.
He'll fucking care then.
***
