Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by BrutalBx
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BrutalBx

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Dead Diary...for the first time in maybe fifteen years, my hair is blonde again. I know right? Crazy! I’ve been all red everything since before I started high school. Rhea loves it. She’s all like “Mommy! Mommy! You’re blonde like me! Yeah, if it makes the little princess happy it can stay. I’ll probably be red again by next week haha!”

The pounding of little feet outside of the bedroom door forced Roxy to put her pen down and a smile to cross her face. ”Morning little one, I’ll be out in a sec” Pushing herself to her feet, the proud momma bear steadied herself somewhat, the chemo was really fucking with her balance, bit of a shit one for a former cheerleader. Once she had corrected herself, Roxanne made her way from the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen where her little pigtailed bundle of treasure was eagerly awaiting her breakfast. Once she had made some cereal for the munchkin, Roxy began washing up the last few dishes from her dinner party the night before and staring out of the window.

Gatling, Texas. In some ways it was straight out of a storybook. Roaming fields, farms and dirt roads, little rivers and ponds that children would use as swimming holes in the summer. Roxy was one of those kids. She was born in this place, she grew up in this place and it was likely she would die here. At least there were worse places for it to happen. It was Friday in Gatling which meant that football was going to be on everyone’s mind today, including her ex husband Jack Palminteri the current coach of the Gatling Garrison. As much as she hated that handsome piece of shit, he was a good father to Rhea and their current relationship was based solely around what was best for that little girl. They were civil and cordial and had left all the poison in the courtroom. He would be here soon to take the baby to school. Even on game days he still took time for his baby girl, at least that much Roxanne appreciated.

It was a warm humid day in West Texas, the sun was rising high, the wind was nonexistent and the town itself was getting ready for the Gatling Stampede. The Stampede was their version of a homecoming, many old faces and favourites were due a return to the town that acted as their foundation. There were a lot of old faces that Ro was looking forward to seeing again and there was just as many she was hoping would finally come home. She had reached out and hopes they would get her message but the world was the world and Gatling was Gatling. She had hope it was not high.

The doorbell rang which soon snapped Roxy out of her daydream. ”That’ll be daddy Rhea, go get your things” Roxanne made her way to the front door and opened wide to be greeted by that damned smile of Jack’s that made everyone in this devil town melt. ”Hey Jackie” the former couple kissed each other politely in greeting. ”Big game tonight Coach, what’s the play?” Jack nodded nonchalantly, a trademark of his. ”Same as of always is. Hit em hard, hit em fast. Cero Miedo”. As with most of them now, this interaction was brief and ended as soon as Rhea re-entered the room. She was soon scooped up into her father’s arms. ”I love you Mommy”. ”I love you too, squirt. Be a good girl for dad” Jack took a step back from the doorstep and smiled. ”I’ll bring her around about lunch time Sunday. My parents want to take her into Austin in the morning” Roxanne offered up a genuine smile, as much as she had grown to dislike Jackie she did love his parents ”No worries, send them my love. Good luck tonight” She waved off her family as they headed down the drive before closing the door.

Now she had peace and quiet, the bodacious new blonde made her way to her office. One of the benefits of her job was that she could work from home, which was pretty much her plan for the next few nights. With Rhea spending the weekend with Jack it meant she had the world to herself and could do with her valuable free time whatever she wanted. The evenings were for walking, the days, well they were for something else. Sitting down in her big leather recliner that she had stolen from Coach Copeland upon his retirement, Roxy turned on the video camera and flashed the bright smile that had won over the hearts of an entire town. ”Hey, so this is video number, well I’ve kind of lost count. I was never good at maths that was always Cyrus’ thing. Anyway, so this is almost everything I wish I’d said the last time I saw your face”

Sunday comes and Jack and Rhea arrive at Roxy’s place just shy of 12pm. As the little creature runs in search of her mother, a weird uneasy feeling swallows Jackie whole. Something wasn’t right. ”Ro?” He called out to no response. Wandering through the house they once shared. She was nowhere to be found until he heard the muffled sounds coming from the office. He pushed the ajar door open and covered his mouth with his hand; aghast as his daughter sat on the lap of her mother. Her eyes were closed, her hands hung at her sides and the little angel was confused.

”Mommy?”







It was a gloomy Friday in Gatling. The usual orange sky had been replaced by a dull grey veil which hung high above reigning down heavy showed in spaces out intervals. It was as if the heavens themselves wept for the departed Roxanne Williams. Most people had already headed off the wake or to their homes to prepare for tonight’s game, even a death such as this wouldn’t stop Gatling football.

Dustin Rockhold alone walked the streets, it was like a scene from a zombie movie or something. He had left his truck back at the ranch, he was going to get fucked up tonight, he didn’t really want to deal with life today. His black cowboy hat shielded his bearded face from the rain as he moved slowly through the main stretch of road that was the town. He looked around and of course, everywhere was littered posters and signs hyping up football or the Stampede, most stores had signs into the windows ”Closed. Gone to Game”. To an outsider, this worship would be ridiculous but to everyone in Gatling, this was a way of life.
It was always God, Football and Texas; not necessarily in that order.

The venue for the wake was the Border Tavern, of course it was; it was everyone’s favourite shithole. Apparently Roxy had left some kind video will to be played at her funeral. Dusty has been to enough funerals in his lifetime and each one was worse than the last. Beyond the horizon, the cowboy could see the feint lines of the Gatling football field where he shared so many memories with Roxanne and their friends. God, they were worlds apart from who they used to be. Everyone but Roxy, she never changed. She was always the heart and soul of everyone around her. The lord must have needed another angel to take her so soon.

Opening the door of the Tavern and stepping out of the rain, Dusty recognised too many of the faces in there and not all of them he wanted to see. He beligned for the bar and the old hag that ran the joint. ”Two shots, two beers Delores and make it your strongest shit”

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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by LovelyComplex
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Will be running late
Hasn't arrived at the Border Tavern
Taking a moment of solitude,
before she has to face everyone.






She knew exactly what she was going back to. Her heart was trying to convince her that this wasn't the truth. This was a practical joke. Roxanne, everybody's Foxy Roxy, her Firefly, was just playing hide-and-go seek. She wouldn't be waiting in a coffin. She wasn't in a sleep that she could never wake up from. She was just waiting to jump out and giggle 'surprise'! That's exactly it. If anyone was supposed to die first, it was going to be the one that didn't have a promising future. The one that had only the hope of her best friend pushing her forward. The one that shouldn't have made it past twenty one. Not the girl that used all her energy to cheer everyone on. Not the friend that put her problems to the side to listen to everyone else's. Not the woman that vowed to keep their memories strong. No matter the season, no matter how much some of it hurt, no matter how distant it all felt, Roxanne Williams was going to look back at each memory with fondness.

so... why world?

why was this happening?

Standing still, holding her phone against her left ear, Helena, known in this town as Nellie, looked down at her mother's tombstone in Gatling Memorial Park. She couldn't have a proper conversation with her mother when her phone was going off every five seconds. First from her second eldest brother, Griffin, who turned his life around, from a Class A Asshole to a bookseller at Gatling's ancient Page Turners. A man that she could now say was humble, thanks to his wife, his three kids, and his lack of ambition. She didn't answer, letting him go straight to voicemail and in short, he was trying to get her to stay with him instead of the After Eight motel.

Next to follow were two emails, one which cordially invited her to a Save the Children ceremonial dinner, for her constant efforts and generous donations, and the other advertising this year's S.O.S 5k and where it would be held. Afterwards, to her surprise, Tucker, her other brother, who was god-knows-where putting his BFA in Accounting to waste, probably doing blow, and getting in more trouble than it was worth, texted her 'srry, nel. call me?'. How sweet. He actually reached out to her. That must mean he cares. Don't even get her started with the notifications on Facebook of people she hadn't talked to in years.

sorry for your loss.

my condolences.

With her other hand, she held a letter and while she listened to the voice on the other line, she knelt down and reached for an old kid's lunchbox, worn and faded, hardly recognizable anymore, placed in front of the flower pot in between Vivian and Edwin Perfect.

Her job hadn't contacted her since she left California, and for that she was thankful. And now? She was on the phone with Nolan Simmons, the man that couldn't love her in the way that she wanted him to, but never stopped showing he cared, "Yes... I'll call you if I get bad. Nols, honestly. I'm okay. I'm not going to lie to you. It hurts like a bitch but it hasn't really hit me yet. Like fully? It's just surreal to be back. The last time I visited was, I think, two years ago. Mhm, yeah, yeah, that's when." When she placed the letter inside the box, her eyes rested on her mother's name, "What? When do I think I'll be back...? You know I don't have an answer for that. You— your husband wants to plan a dinner for me?" Well, his husband needed to get a life and not fucking pester her. "Ah, that's sweet. Tell him thanks and that when I figure it out, I'll let you both know." Fuck that. "I told you already my therapist helped me get approved for FMLA, so, yeah. I'm not going to be thinking about a return date just yet." People never knew when to shut the fuck up. "Nolan I got to— what? You got to go? I was just going— Okay. Okay. Yeah, I know." Fucking hang up already. "Okay. Uh-huh. Sure thing. Talk to you later. Bye." Was he always this annoying and self centered?

Closing her eyes, Ms. Perfect took a deep breath in and then out, before opening them and looking at the headstone, "Mom, could you excuse me?" The next motions were swift and with no hesitation. She stood up and forcibly darted her phone in a direction, almost hitting an angelic statue of a child. It flew past it, inches away, and crashed into the trunk of a remarkable-looking tree causing the screen to shatter even more than it already had due to past incidents and for the battery to fly out. Feeling a little better about herself, she knelt back down and focused in on what she needed to do, "Mom, is she up there dancing? I'd love for a sign to know that you both are happy. That 'God' didn't take you both too soon. But, I guess, since she's with you... I'll be fine. I'll try to pick up where she left off. I'll try to help..."

The more and more Nellie talked, the more her voice shook and as if she tried to keep it all in, the tears started pouring out and her attention went to the sky, "Roxy, why didn't you ask me to come home? Why didn't you ask me to take care of you?" Why didn't you let me worry? Now... "Now, what? Now you expect me to go see your dead body?" Now I have to walk in that place and see all these faces that will remind me of you. "I don't know if I can." I don't know if I'm strong enough. "I don't know..." Her hands covered her face and for the first time, since she found out, she let herself cry.

She hadn't checked the time, and now she couldn't.

She most likely was going to be late.
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by spooner
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spooner *cough*

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Graduation Day had gone by in a blur, one heck of a stressful blur. Elias had been sat in the back row of his graduation ceremony a surley face plastered over his face as he listened to the people making their speeches. If one listened closely you would hear the sound of Elias gritting his teeth. He could not wait for it to be over so he could get his plan his escape from this backwards town.

As soon as the caps had been thrown and the applause had died down the messy haired teen had almost ripped of his gown and headed for the stands to get the inevitable awkward moment with his parents over and done with. And just as he had thought there they were glowering at each other, probably just done with a fight. When his mother caught sight of her son her face broke into a soft but obviously fake smile

“Eliii… Congratulations!” she cooed and embraced him.

“Thanks mom” Elias muttered as he endured her tight hug. His father just slapped him on the shoulder with a quick “Proud of you son” even though it was just hollow words Elias appreciated that Charlie was even there. “So you know where Dusty is going to play next year then?” his father asked looking around to see if he could spot one of Elias’s best friends.

A loud sigh escaped the boy “No dad haven’t really asked him” he monotoned staring out into the crowd. “But I can ask him tonight if it’s that important to you” he said sarcastically, knowing his father hated when he talked back like that. Charlie cleared his throat loudly indicating that Elias was on thin ice. Rolling his eyes Elias said goodbye to his parents and ventured out into the sea of people in search of his friends.

When the crowd had long gone the mismatched group of friends had gathered together behind the small building that housed all of the sports utilities. Where Roxy had insisted they made their friendship eternal by signing their names on the wall.

“Who has the pen?” Roxanne asked in a shaky voice holding back the sentimental tears.

With a soft sigh Elias dug around in the pocket of his jacket retrieving the felt-tipped pen he had swiped from Mrs Rome’s classroom. “Here” he whispered handing it to the redhead. The girl smiled in response as she took it from him and uncapped it. Elias watched as one by one his friends signed the dusty wall. At last it was his turn. With one last big sigh Elias signed his name beside his friends before capping the pen and pocketing it admiring their work.

“We’ll meet back here, every year. Wind, rain or shine, This is our home. Promise me guys” he could hear Roxy say quietly behind him.

Elias turned around trying to rearrange his face into a convincing expression “Of course, you won’t get rid of me that easy!” he cracked a smile and hugged her.



The cab came into a screeching halt, shaking Elias who had been asleep in the back seat awake. He straightened his glasses as he peered out of the window up at the house that he had grown up in. The rain pelted him as he got out of the car and gathered his belongings from the trunk of the car. He shielded his face with his hand as he jogged up to the house, Elias stopped when he got to the porch. He took a moment staring at the door handle almost as if it would burn him if he touched it. Closing his eyes the young man took a deep breath before he opened the door as quietly as he could so to not notify his father of his arrival. Stepping into the house he could hear the tv showing the Longhorn game, and it was not hard to imagine his father parked in front of it while drinking his beer.

“Dad?” Elias called out setting his bags down waiting for answer. He stepped towards the living room, and just as he had though there sat his father eyes fixed on the tv screen. “We winning?” he asked.

“Hey son… yeah looks like it.” Charlie said finally turning his head away from the game and facing his son standing up as he did so. “Come here!” he exclaimed as he embraced Elias. Blinking slowly the young man patted his father on the back awkwardly. It was a confusing scene for him because he could probably count on one hand the times that his father had hugged him. “You holding up ok?” Charlie said as he pulled away. There it was, the hug was some sort of act of pity now that the only good thing about this town was gone.

“Yeah I’m alright I guess.” he lied straightening his coat. “Well, I need to head out again. Dusty is waiting for me at the tavern.” Elias drawled almost as he was bored with what was happening. The small light that lit up behind his father’s eyes whenever Dusty’s name still annoyed Elias to no end. “Oh give the champ my best.” his father chuckled as he sat back down to watch the game. “Sure…” Elias muttered as he turned away and made his way out of the house.

Walking through the town that he had grown to hate made the short walk to the Border Tavern feel like a slog through old memories. Even from under his umbrella he could spot the old movie theater where they used to watch movies one month late and the small liquor store where they used his fake ID to buy beer and then the alley behind the quick n’ go where Diana and Roxanne calmed him down when he had a panic attack the day his grandfather died. Squeezing his eyes shut Elias quickened his pace to get away from the painful memory.

The door of the Border Tavern still creeked when it was pushed opened. His nostrils was filled with the smell of stale beer and peanuts as he entered. It didn’t take long before he spotted the broad shoulders of his old friend.

“Long time no see Cowboy” he said sitting down on the stool next to Dustin.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Kitty
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If only...
Those must be the two saddest words in the world.
~Mercedes Lackey



Hana sat in her hotel suite practicing her cello, the music escaping from deep within and emotion pouring into every note she played. The flowing sound twisted around her as it seemed to take her back in time, bringing forth memories of the past of Roxy all while tears fell from her eyes.

A letter sat in Hana’s hand, a bouncing red-head sat besides her grinning at her. ”Go on open it! I’m sure it says how brilliant you are and how you are accepted!” Hana looked over to her friend as they sat together on a bench at a park. It had been Roxy who had convinced her to apply after her parents almost talked her out of it. Juilliard was her dream school and here was the letter telling her either she was accepted or denied.

”W-what if I wasn’t Roxy? My parents will only rub it in my face and scold me. Then I’ll have to do some career I will never be happy in. I-”

”Hana.” Roxy had interrupted the anxious girl, grabbing her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. ”You are amazingly talented so I know you are accepted. Besides no matter what happens I’ll always be here to support you. Everyone will have your back.”

With a nervous nod and a small smile, Hana let her hand be released from Roxy’s grip and she shakily opened the envelope. From the envelope she removed the letter, as she unfolded it she squeezed her eyes shut, her heart pounding being the only sound she could hear. That was until a small squeal of excitement from her friend ripped through her anxiety and nerves causing the girl to snap her eyes open.

Reading the letters first line a huge grin spread onto her face and she met eyes with Roxy who immediately pounced on the girl hugging her close. ”I TOLD YOU SO!”


The music came to an end and Hana opened her eyes, wishing to be in the past once again with her friend. Wishing that if only things had gone differently and she had Roxy’s back just as well as Roxy had hers then maybe she would still be alive. Hana stood up and carefully put her cello away before going to get ready for the long night ahead.






Right hand holding her left in front of her, her fingers playing with the rings on her left ring finger, Hana looked at the door to the bar in front of her. She knew what would be awaiting her behind the doors. Old faces, old friends, old memories. All in their own way a painful reminder of ’if only…’. All making her wonder how things could have been, but there was no way knowing. It was too late and that was what made it painful.

Taking a deep breath, Hana pushed the door open. The chime sounding her arrival. She made her way to the bar and sat down in a seat one away from the two men who were there. Once she sat down, Hana turned and looked to the men. She had been correct in her assumptions, these were her old friends. They were just much different than before.

Just as if she was back in her highschool days, Hana fell into an awkward state of not knowing what to say. Finally Hana spoke two simple words, ”Hey guys.”

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Venus
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Cyrus wasn’t even sure he wanted to be here. Gatling was so… somber. And it made sense to him, after all, one of their golden children had fallen — and fallen early. He and his wife came back, not because either of them wanted to… well, Cyrus could only speak for himself, but he certainly didn’t want to be back here. The reality of the situation was, a sense of dedication had dragged Cyrus back here, because he’d failed Roxy before by never coming back to visit, and he wasn’t going to fail her again by letting her die and not come back to be there for the funeral.

He’d thought he would cry, and get sad about it, but between his best friend in college, and now his best friend in high school up and dying before either of them even hit 30, he had to wonder if he even knew how to grieve anymore. Roxy’s death must not have hit him yet, but he was sure it was going to at the wake, where he’d have to look at her dead body, surrounded by the rest of her friends and family.

To be frank, he wished they were still in New York, New York — the city so nice they named it twice — and not back in this backwaters town, but… here they were. Staring out the hotel window, at a town he used to know like the back of his hand, and drinking a mix of club soda and crushed up Excedrin. What? He’d had too much to drink on the flight over.

“Di, are you ready for this?” He called out, glancing over his shoulder at his wife.

Sitting in front of the hotel room’s vanity facing the glass window, Diana Kingsley was adding the finishing touches to her makeup. Ever since the news of Roxanne’s passing, the iron-hearted woman had been nothing short of a mess. This had been her biggest loss to hit her since the death of her grandparents years previously. But when you lose a friend so suddenly and with no warning, no amount of previous experience with grief could ever prepare you for the excruciating pain and the guilt trying to swallow you whole.

At her husband’s question, Diana took in a deep breath. She gave herself one last once-over before turning to address Cyrus. “As ready as I’ll ever be...” the woman replied earnestly, sliding on her Dior sunglasses to shield her red-rimmed eyes away from sight and rising from her seat.

When Cyrus broke the news, Di didn’t believe him at first. She’d spoken to Roxy just a week previously: both women excitedly gushing about their upcoming yearly girl’s trip. But when Jack Palminteri confirmed her best friend’s passing, the blonde had collapsed into her husband’s arms, sobbing loudly. The pills eventually helped dull the pain somewhat, but there was never a cure for the missing piece of her heart.

“Yeah,” Cyrus said, watching as she rose from her seat. He knew what she meant; it had hit him hard when Kieran had died, but that was… different than this. That had been like watching his present die, and this was like watching the remnants of his past crumble off. It was over, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever come back to this town after this. “It’ll be fine. It’ll be good, to see everyone again, don’t you think? It’s what she would have wanted.” Cyrus put a hand on Diana’s shoulder and gave her a thin smile. It was his best attempt at being ‘cheerful.’

Diana nodded, placing her own hand on top of his and resting her cheek against it for a moment. As much as she appreciated Cyrus’ intentions, they unfortunately didn’t do much to prepare the woman for what they were about to face. Roxy’s funeral was half of her worry. There was a reason as to why Di hadn’t set foot in Gatling for ten years, choosing instead to meet Roxy in all different parts of the country or even the world. Said reason still resided in her former hometown: one of Gatling’s favorite golden boys, who would undoubtedly be present at this somber event. And in all honesty? Diana wasn’t sure if she had the will to face him just yet.

“He’s going to be there too, you know?” she told her husband in barely more than a whisper, afraid that saying his name aloud would send her down another crying episode.

“Yes, I know.” Cyrus said, though he couldn’t think of anything to do to comfort her. Eventually, she’d have to face her past — just like he was going to do. It was just the reality of the situation, and he didn’t know what to do other than to encourage her. “You’ll have to face it eventually, you know. And I’ll be there. It won’t be so bad.” It was a weird situation for him; he knew his wife loved someone else, but he just… he just didn’t care. He was numb to it, but he still wanted to help her, at least as much as he can.

“Don’t worry about it yet. This is for Roxy. After this… we’ll deal with the other stuff, alright?”

Di merely nodded again, turning around to face Cyrus and wrapping her arms around him. “Okay,” she said softly, planting a gentle kiss on her husband’s cheek. “I’m ready when you are.”

“We can head out soon. I’ll be honest, I’m not ready. I thought I’d be more upset. I’m not upset. I thought I’d be more… emotional. I’m not. The thing I’m not ready for? I don’t want to have to talk to people I haven’t seen in ten years. I haven’t come back here for a reason, and I don’t think any of them are honestly going to know who I am.” Cyrus wasn’t ready for that — there really was something wrong with him, wasn’t there? The impending awkwardness and introductions, and the somber feel… he wasn’t sure he could handle it. He took another drink from the glass. “I’m not ready to be… judged.”

Cyrus’ words definitely resonated with Diana. She’d left without looking back and without so much as a goodbye: opting to bluntly cut all ties that could remind her of Gatling and its people. In small towns like that, people often liked to talk about things they didn’t quite know about; the judgement would come regardless of whether they had been around more or not. But if something was for certain, it was that they wouldn’t face things alone.

“Tell me about it…” the blonde replied, a sad smile on her face. “With the amount of stories the tabloids have fabricated about us, I wouldn’t be surprised they think we’re members of some cult that keep their wealth by making weird rituals or something like that...” Di said with a laugh, shaking her head. “But no matter what happens, we’re in this together, okay? You don’t have to talk to anybody you don’t want to, and I’ll take care of anyone who dares to judge. I’ve got your back no matter what, Cy. Always.”

“What, you weren’t there for the last ritual? It was a blast. We sacrificed a virgin.” Cyrus said, before he kissed the laughing Diana on the lips and nodded his agreement. She was right. They were a team, and a unit — they might not have been perfect romantically; they definitely weren’t — but there was something there. A cohesiveness. A feeling of being in a unit, that both individuals needed. They weren’t perfect, but no one in this world was.

Especially not in this fucked up town. In fact, Cyrus would have put money on most people in this place being as fucked up as the town was. Being bullied when he was younger had soured his opinion of this town, even with Roxy and the others befriending him later in his high school career. “Can we agree on one thing? We get in and we get out. Fast. Home is calling my name.”

Diana vehemently nodded. "Deal. The heat in this town is already making my skin as leathery as these people's tacky cowboy accessories," she replied, face scrunching up with distaste as if ten years ago she wasn't proudly wearing Dusty's cowboy hat at every chance she could.

“Hm.” Was Cyrus’s only response, not wanting to head down the road of Dusty. He didn’t want to deal with the conversation, or the fallout that would follow. Quite frankly, he just wanted to get this whole trip over with, and go home. He wasn’t even sure about the wake, but he was going to do for his friend — he owed her that much, even if he didn’t honor her request to come and visit once a year.

Cyrus stepped away from Diana and gestured for her to follow. He grabbed his jacket off of the bed and put it on. “We should get going. They’re probably waiting for us.”

Nodding solemnly, his wife followed suit. She gave herself one last look in the mirror, grabbed her Prada bag from the bed, took her husband’s arm and left the room.

Once they arrived at the bar, it didn’t take Cyrus long to pick out their group; after he’d gotten hit by the rush of nostalgia that came from walking into the building… the familiar faces, and even the familiar smells. He made a beeline for their group, with Diana in tow, and when he arrived, he looked around at the three at the bar. “Hey, guys. I wish we were getting back together for something… better, but… it’s still good to see you.”

Meanwhile, Diana said nothing, opting to keep a tight, shaky grip on her husband’s arm. The blonde woman kept her stare fixated on the worn-out hardwood floor, afraid of what would happen if her blue eyes found the face of the one who got away.
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Fabricant451
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Fabricant451 Queen of Hearts

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When Mason Coburn had his first day on the job, the Sheriff imparted some words of wisdom for the young deputy. A sheriff’s work is rarely done. Now at the time Mason found those words somewhat inspiring but now, a couple years on and generally being the face of law enforcement where it counts, a better term for those ‘wise words’ would be idealistic. Insipid if he was feeling particularly nasty. Sure, the Sheriff might well still believe it but experience proved otherwise; most days a sheriff’s work was sitting around with a busted A/C unit and a fan blowing in your face until a call came in over something petty and minor often involving petty minors. Hardly the exciting life the movies and television made it out to be, but then that was probably why the movies all took place in big urban cities where the sight of a horse or a cow was exotic and strange. A sheriff’s work might rarely be done, but one sheriff, deputy or otherwise, finished his work by seven most nights.

Of course he knew the job wasn’t quite as glamorous as outside media made it seem, but even still he expected his life would be a bit more like COPS and not like...Waiting to Exhale. On a good day he might answer a noise complaint or some tourist unaware of Texas gun laws as it related to concealed and open carry - those were always fun particularly when he was called a redneck hick for reciting law. On a bad day the highlight was being able to watch Jeopardy in the office and knowing two questions correctly.

Today, though, today was a day Mason knew would be unlike any other; he just wasn’t sure if it was in a good way or bad. There was a sort of pall hanging over the town and had been since the news first broke. It hit some harder than others but everyone who lived in Gatling was affected in some way even if they only knew Roxanne in passing. Small town life does that to a person. Mason remembered when he got the call, the concerned voice, the clear sound of someone who had been trying to hold back a dam of tears, and he remembered seeing the body and the deluge of questions from concerned citizens that followed. He wasn’t a coroner. Hell he wasn’t even technically a detective, he had no comment to make but that didn’t stop people from asking if he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Sure, he told them, right between Jeopardy and Wheel. They didn’t find it nearly as funny as he had.

By the time Friday rolled around the only thing Mason had to offer was condolences. Somehow he doubted that would be good enough but his jurisdiction didn’t often extend to sudden, unexpected deaths. It was a conscious decision on his part to not attend the wake; he was undecided on the funeral. It wasn’t as if he truly knew the dearly departed; sure he went to school with her but he could count the number of conversations they had on one hand and still have enough to slap somebody. So attending the wake would have been a polite gesture, sure, but he couldn’t help but think there would be a small handful of people still asking him what happened and that was something he could do without. Officers of the law don’t really have all the answers and if they do they don’t like to share them unless cameras are present.

Regardless that was why today, of all days, where the streets were as morbid as his former obesity, Mason Coburn was alone in the Gatling Sheriff’s Office, feet propped up, and watching Jeopardy while a rickety box fan blew a mild breeze. “Who is Bill Hickock.” Mason was on a roll today. The first category was about historical sheriffs which made up for the fact that the other categories were well out of his wheelhouse. “Y’hear that, Chuck? Got four of ‘em. Swear I must be a damn genius.” Mason looked over his shoulder towards the empty desk and office where the Gatling Sheriff would’ve been seated had he not been like so many other residents and taken a personal day. Mason offered to ‘hold down the fort’ with the belief that if crime was ever gonna take a day off, it’d be today of all days.

Outside he could hear the rain picking up again and scoffed. Typical. Whole damn town gets to be sad so of course the clouds do too. WIth any luck it’d clear up before kickoff but even so that wouldn’t stop people. Mason couldn’t rightly blame them, people needed a bit of distraction on a day like today and hell itself couldn’t stop the folk of Gatling from getting their football fix. Mason might join them, or he might head home, microwave some popcorn and watch The Waterboy for the hundredth time. It was a good night either way. Quiet, boring, just like most days. He’d pay his respects at the funeral, today he just wanted things to feel...boringly normal.

BRRRRINGGGG

Mason blinked when the ring rang out through the station; it definitely weren’t no Jeopardy sound effect. It rang again and with an unbelieving sigh he snapped his eyes towards the hotline. Why now? Why today? What could be so damn important as to disturb the peace? If this was Old Man Wilcox going on about dog crap on the sidewalk Mason was going to look into how he could legally detain someone for annoying an officer. “Sheriff’s department.” Mason couldn’t hide his annoyance as he answered the call.

“Sorry to bother you, Sheriff.” The voice belonged to Bill Ford down at the gas station near the edge of town. Mason could tell because of the way he pronounced words that start with ‘B’. Bill had had a bit of a stutter in his youth with B and V words to where the only fix was for him to say those words a bit slower than normal. Must;ve been why he liked to go by William or Willie rather than Bill. Though Mason didn’t respond verbally, he let out a sigh when Bill called him ‘Sheriff’. He wasn’t the Sheriff, he was the Deputy Sheriff and he said that every time someone made that mistake. Eventually they’d learn. “I’ve got a robbery to report...if you could...send someone...that’d be...well that’d be swell.”

“I’ll be right there, Bill. Try not to get shot.” Mason hung up the phone and sighed just as Jeopardy came back from commercial ready for Double Jeopardy. Shame he’d have to miss it. Who the hell robbed a gas station? Who the hell robbed a gas station today? Mason was out the door and into his vehicle cursing under his breath while asking himself the very same questions.

How does it feel...to treat me like you do…




“I don’t think you understood me, Roger but it’s probably hard to hear when your head is so far up your own ass, but what I said was: Thirty. Percent. If you’re going to try and fuck me out of this deal, which I have in writing I might add, then you’d best bring me the mother of all steak dinners.” A blue convertible raced down an empty stretch of highway while the heavy synths of New Order served as a backdrop for the driver, a woman whose hair was flowing in the breeze from the open top. A bluetooth device was in her ear as she weaved her way into a lane to overtake a car that promptly honked at her as she sped past. Naturally she extended her middle finger as she sped up even more.

“Yes, you are trying to fuck me, Roger. We had a deal. My client would represent your brand with exclusivity rights I might add and you would give him thirty percent. Now I thought this was a fair arrangement, I saw your numbers last quarter and believe me you need him more than he needs you. How? Fresh from college, third round draft pick, nothing but a bright future ahead of him compared to a company who can barely muster up the costs to sell product in a fucking Foot Locker. Give us thirty percent or prepare your legal team and we’ll take all of it. Have a good weekend, Roger.” Harper hung up the call and tossed the bluetooth from her ear to the passenger seat with a disgusted grunt. What was it about companies and ad execs that made them so unbearable to work with? If there was one thing she had learned since becoming something of a name in the sports agent world it was that she often had to bring out the bitch claws in order to get people to take her seriously. It was a man’s world but she had no problem keeping afloat. Her car and clientele were proof enough of that.

When she first got the message about Roxanne and the subsequent wake and funeral, Harper wasn’t sure she could even make it. Of course she could take a couple of days off and have any emergencies sent her way, but Harper not being able to make it was more code for ‘didn’t really want to show up’. When she put Gatling in her rearview it was supposed to be for the last time; a town like that was murder on the ambitions. She hadn’t even come back for the holidays. It was always a matter of ‘too busy’ or ‘going overseas’ or whatever fancy excuse she could muster, even if all she did on Thanksgiving or Christmas was eat Chinese and watch television. She had left Gatling. She was better than Gatling. The death of Roxanne wouldn’t change the fact.

But then her assistant mentioned how funny it would be to show up in a fancy car smelling of success. How could Harper argue with such logic?

That was precisely why Harper had decided to make the long drive through the desolate waste that was the southwest United States on something akin to a homecoming journey. When she crossed the state line into Texas the first thing that hit her was the smell. She forgot how much Texas just...smelled. It wasn’t enough to get her to put the top up but it did contribute to why she was driving like a bat out of hell along stretches of road. It would all be worth it when she rolled up in her car, sunglasses dipped down to the bridge of her nose, and the looks of jealousy came her way. It would especially be good coming from the unfortunate souls who didn’t make it out. The real losers of the hour. Maybe, she thought, that was why Roxanne died. To finally get the fuck out of Texas.

She wouldn’t say that aloud, of course.

When Harper crossed into Gatling lines, the weather had been shifting dramatically thus facilitating the need to put the top back up. It was raining. And more than that, she needed gas. That final stretch of highway was murder; that she was going about an average of ninety probably didn’t help matters. Harper pulled into the first gas station she came across; the place was damn near empty and from what she could see of the town in the distance so too was it. Did a virus get loose and kill everyone? Couldn’t have happened to a nicer town.

Alas her theory was squashed when she entered the gas station proper and saw a portly old gentleman behind the counter. How depressing; if she was working at a gas station at that age she would’ve offed herself in the bathroom. Still, she did her civic duty and gave the clerk a wave and the fakest of smiles. “Pump four.” She called to him before heading down the various aisles. She needed to stretch her legs and more than that she needed something to eat, not a meal, just something to tide her over like cracker sandwiches or whatever else counted as a delicacy in this part of the world. Her selection stared at her like pillars to heaven: Slim Jims. The spiced meat stick that was a favorite of inmates and sycophants. Harper grabbed three of them and stuck two in her pockets on the sly.

“I don’t suppose you sell lobster here?” Harper joked as she came up to the counter, placing one Slim Jim on the counter.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be paying for the things in your pocket?” The clerk asked in kind, eliciting a bit of a chuckle from Harper.

“The only thing in my pocket is straw wrappers, what’s the going price on those? Hundred bucks?” The first rule of any small theft or really any crime at all was to deny. Harper was good at denying, more than that she was exceptional at passing the blame; unfortunately there was no one else in the store to shift the blame onto so she had little option but to fly by the seat of her pants.

“Miss, I saw you put those beef sticks in your pocket, now are you gonna pay for them or do I have to call the authorities?”

“Isn’t it a bit dramatic to get the ‘authorities’ involved over nothing?” Had Harper not put the mocking inflection on ‘authorities’ she might have gotten away with it. As it stood, she just had to raise an eyebrow when the clerk picked up a phone and dialed a number. He didn’t make the mistake of turning his back to Harper which she honestly had to commend him for, but she did raise her eye at the whole thing. It was a bit dramatic to say the least. “Well, in a few minutes one of us is going to look like a complete ass.”

It only took five before the sounds of a car pulling up, a door shutting, and the little ‘ding dong’ of the door opening to overtake the muzak in the speakers. Harper got a good glance at the man in uniform and wondered to herself when the law got an upgrade; in her youth the cops had been balding and chunky and this guy was neither of those things. Maybe she would let him frisk her.

And then he just had to go and open his stupid mouth.

“Harper? Harper Ownbey?”

Mason couldn’t believe his eyes. There was no mistaking that the woman who was the ‘robber’ was Harper Ownbey, a notorious sort from his school days. Sure she had gotten older but as someone whose greatest exchange with girls in those days happened from afar, he could tell it was her right away. She still had that same...confidence to her eyes, like a sexual smoulder that made you think larceny was cool. Of everyone he thought Harper would be the one he’d never see in Gatling again and yet, here she was. Funny how tragedy had a way of fucking with the world.

“What’s going on, Bill? I thought this was a robbery, like with guns and stuff. What, did she take from the leave a penny jar?” On the way over, Mason was psyching himself up for some cool armed robbery thing, he’d get to be the hero and talk a thief down before slapping the cuffs on him. But of course that wasn’t the case. Why would it be. This was the town where excitement took a permanent holiday.

“‘Fraid not, Sheriff. She’s got two Slim Jims in her pocket and she’s gotta pay for them.”

Mason could not hide his disbelief. All this...for a buck ninety nine? “Has she left the store?” Mason received his answer in the form of a head shake no. “Then she ain’t stolen nothin’ yet. God dammit, Bill, it’s just a stick of meat. You call me out here for that?”

“Am I still getting my gas or…”

Mason tossed two dollars on the counter and promptly left the store in a bit of a huff, running his hand through his hair as he stood under the store awning, listening to the rain drop. When a stick of meat entered his periphery he turned to see Harper offering him one with a devilish grin about her. “Technically it’s yours anyway, you paid for it.”

“Yeah, which means you owe me two bucks. I’ll take it cash or check.”

“Sorry, I only have plastic on me. Tell you what, I’ll pay you back by giving you my hotel number.” There was absolutely no shame in Harper’s voice. If she was going to be stuck here for a day or two then she should at least find some way to enjoy herself rather than be upset over someone being deceased.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” Mason would’ve given anything to have Harper proposition him like that back when they were in school, back when Harper and Roxanne and all the others were in that out of reach area, but times had changed and Harper...hadn’t, really.

“Someone who saved me two dollars.”

“Mason Coburn. Deputy Mason Coburn.” When he practiced saying that in front of a mirror he always pictured it being like a James Bond scenario. Yet another in a long line of disappointments.

“Wait...Mason Coburn? Megaton Mason? Well, fuck me, you did alright for yourself.” Harper couldn’t believe it. In her mind Mason was still the kid that she once said ‘waddled to class’ just out of earshot. Whatever he did it obviously worked for him, but somehow she figured her offer of a casual fling with a man in uniform would be put on the rocks. It was for the best, it might have been a bit too weird otherwise with the image of him in school still fresh in her mind.

“I take it you’re here for Roxanne, too?” If he could control the conversation he wouldn’t have to field questions about his transformation. “Once you’re all gassed up I’ll take you to the wake. I’m sure some people there are dying to catch up with you.”

“Well, Roxanne is for sure.” Mason didn’t laugh. He didn’t so much as flinch. “Yeesh, you would’ve laughed at that in school. I think I liked you better when you were fat.”

“...So did I.”

True to his word, Mason drove ahead of Harper, pulling to a stop in front of the Border Tavern. He wasn’t going to go inside. A room full of people who would treat him the same as Harper just had? He didn’t need that. What he needed was not to be called for bunk calls but this was the job as a small town law enforcement.

Harper, meanwhile, pulled into a parking spot and promptly dabbed some eye drops into her eyes. If she looked like she was actually upset and had a cry that would reflect well on her, at least until she got ready to gloat to everyone. It was all about appearances.

As Mason sat in his squad car, he gave a single nod to Haper who threw open the doors and entered the tavern to her surely adoring friends in this, the most trying of times.
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As the shot of good old fashioned whiskey burned his throat like a round of bad toast, Dusty felt someone sit next to him, yet it wasn’t just any someone. He knew this presence, even in his semi permanent drunken haze he knew what was going on around him. This was a talent he had mastered during his hard partying days as a Gatling superstar. Dusty took off his ten gallon and placed it on the bar, causing his chestnut coloured bangs to fall and frame his devilishly handsome face. He exalted through his nose before sliding the second beer he had ordered over to Elias. ”Hey hoss, yeah it’s been a while”

Elias Hellqvist; Dustin’s high school therapist and the closest thing he had during those days to a best friend. To the untrained eye, Dusty was of course a jock. He was the star running back of the football team, he was unfathomably good looking, he could sing better than Bieber and he just had that IT factor. What most didn’t realise was that Dusty Rockhold was a lonely son of a bitch (Mrs Rockhold was actually a saint but I digress). In their many many talks over the years, Elias had made no secret of the fact that Dusty was the son that his father had always wanted and in hindsight it made the cowboy feel awful. Eli was a good person who didn’t deserve to be made to feel second best. Dusty raised his glass to his old friend before downing the amber ale in three seconds flat. ”Another”

As Dolores, whose apparent immortality was one of Gatlings greatest ghost stories, poured the former RB1 his next drink, a familiar voice pierced its way through the hustle and bustle of the wake. Glancing to his right side, Dusty saw the all too familiar porcelain features of one Hana Cheong. It had been a little while since he’d seen her in person. She had definitely blossomed since high school, most everybody does. The last time he saw her was probably at her wedding. He had decided to surprise her with the gift of learning Korean so he could sing her and her new husband a song. It went off like a house on fire that night. In the split second he had seen her, deep in her eye still sat the look of a stranger in a strange land that had no idea what she was doing. ”Hey little sis”, he said placing a comforting hand on her demure shoulder.

Mere seconds passed before even more of there once merry group of misfits landed in the Tavern. Finally succumbing to social norms, Dusty turned on the ancient, rusty stool to face the gathering of what the beautiful dead considered her best friends. What a mess they were. None of them spoke or kept in touch, if they did it was barely more than a general catch up, any meaningful conversations ended on that first Stampede weekend the year after graduation when only Roxanne turned up and the rest of them gave a smorgasbord of excuses. Bless her she always continues to try but high school friends are high school friends, when the big bad world comes calling, it was every man and woman for themselves.

Cyrus and Diana, a couple no one could have foreseen. Cy had always been a great friend, a good guy so when he and Diana started hooking up he made a point to let Dusty know. At the time he was in Iraq, so the idea brushed off of his broad shoulders with little problem. It wasn’t until after he got home and the weight of his reality began to set in that the thought of Diana, a girl he loved so intently falling for someone else and that someone else being a close friend, that stung, like a punch in the gut. It also didn’t help when he watched Diana’s Dreamhomes on repeat for nights on end. She still looked amazing and her scent was exactly the same. Her waves of blonde hair framing her face like a portrait. He tightened his already firm grip on his glass just a little bit more. ”Ain’t you two looking nice? Welcome back”






From the shit stained back room that Dolores had decided to clean for the first time in ten years, Jack emerged into the crowded Tavern. Damn, his ex wife sure was popular. They had been separated for about a year, divorced only a month when he found her body. Half of the town didn’t even know that so to some he was a widowed father and damned he would be if he didn’t play up to that. The image of her sitting there, like a Madam Tussaud waxwork was seared into his memory. Every time he closed his eyes she was there, staring at him with that literally dead stare. He wasn’t staying; a move some would consider to be dickish but Jackie Palminteri had an epiphany a long time ago; someone was always going to be the dick, it didn’t matter if it was him or not, he was always going to be about number one.

Jack looked up at the large picture of Roxanne that they had placed over the back wall and sighed. What a waste. With those teasing hazel eyes, that shock of red hair and a jawline that could shave ice she was beauty personified; a man was a liar if he didn’t say he fell in love with her just a little bit when he saw her. He glanced over at a group that had amassed at the bar whilst he was in the other room; it was a whose who of Roxy’s friends from high school, no doubt they would play the dutiful friend roles now but where were they the past ten years whilst she struggled? Things may have gone sour but at least Jackie was always there. He scowled lightly for a second before switching back to his usual lackadaisical shit eating grin. He had to go, it was game day after all and not even death could stop football. Leaving the Tavern, Jack caught the glimpse of Helene Perfect; yeah maybe not then but now? Yeah now she wasn’t too far from Perfect. He gave her wink before brushing past to climb into his car.




As Jackie left, the high pitched wine of a broken old tannoy system stabbed through the bustling noise of the bar. The picture of Roxy shot upwards to reveal a screen with another image of the grateful dead, only this one was moving.



”Hey y’all! Don’t adjust your tv screens, it is I, Foxy Roxy Williams coming at you live from, well I guess the afterlife! If this video is being played for you then I’m dead, very dead. Don’t cry for me Argentina, I had a good life, a short one but a good gone. If all has gone to plan, this is the first of a fair amount of videos of the recently deceased me. Their purpose is simple; you’re about to hear the story of my good life and the days I recall being wonderful but you know me, I can’t make it that easy for you, got to make it a little bit dramatic. So scattered around Gatling are some mementos and memories of what came before, each clue will lead you to my next vid and my next memory. Fun right? I totally stole this idea from a book. Anyway, Rhea, babe, if your watching this, mommy loves you and she always will. To the island of misfit toys, this is as much your story as it is mine. We made a promise and maybe my being gone will finally make you fulfil it. I’m not perfect, I never was but you know who was? You Nellie and this first clue is for you. I left my journal for you, it’s yours to carry on the story but if I were you, where would I hide it? Start where we finished. I love you all, see you in the next one”

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