Post by Steve Orbit on Jan 5, 2014 12:17:42 GMT -5
Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...
The sound of the circular clock on the wall is the only thing we hear. Moonlight shines through the window and we can see that it reads 3:01. "The Mack" Steve Orbit lays in bed on top of the messy covers. He's in nothing but boxers. Closer examination reveals that his eyes are open, staring at the ceiling.
After a few moments, the sound of the toilet flushing is heard from the adjacent bathroom. Valencia, a 20 year old Brazilian girl who works at Club Violet, enters the scene. She crawls back into the bed, sleepy-eyed. She looks upon Orbit and begins to rub his chest, speaking softly in her South American accent.
Valencia: Still awake?
Orbit sighs.
Steve Orbit: I ain't been gettin' much sleep lately.
She curls up next to him, lightly kissing his shoulder up to his cheek.
Valencia: I thought I would have worn you out.
He forces a smile and kisses her on the lips. He runs his fingers through her hair.
Valencia: If there's anything you want to talk about... I'm here.
It takes a few moments for Steve to respond.
Steve Orbit: It's just... I feel like I'm finished, you know what I'm sayin'? You ever feel like... everything you do ain't been for nothin'? Like... no matter how hard you fuckin' try, how much work you put in, you just never gonna... never gonna be where you wanna be at? It's like, sometimes I feel like I'm runnin' on a mother fuckin' treadmill. I'm sweatin', and my body is tired and achin', my mind is exhausted, but when I look around, I'm still in the same fuckin' spot. You know what I'm--
"Snoooooore."
Orbit turns his head to Valencia and realizes she's fast asleep. He chuckles and shakes his head. He sits up and spins his legs off of the bed, stretching as he stands. He walks down the hall and into the kitchen, flicking on the light. He opens a cabinet and grabs a bottle of Hennessy, pouring it into a nearby glass. He takes a small sip... and then a long swig, finishing the glass. He pours another and then has a seat at the table. He sits... alone. As he begins to down the second glass, the scene fades out.
==
Several hours later, it's late morning. Almost noon. Valencia exits the bedroom, wearing one of Orbit's pink polo shirts, which fits like a dress on her tiny frame. She walks into the kitchen and stops short-- finding Orbit laying on the floor, naked and passed out. Two empty bottles of Hennessy are on the counter and a broken glass is next to Orbit. The stripper kneels down next to him, lightly shaking him.
Valencia: Steve...
She begins to shake him a bit harder. No response.
"DING DONG"
The doorbell rings. Valencia begins to panic.
Valencia: Shit, shit... shit!
She takes a glass out from the cabinet and pours cold water from the faucet. She pours it over Steve's head. He moves, barely opening his eyes and mumbling. Seconds later, he's passed out again.
"DING DONG"
The doorbell rings again. Valencia runs to the bedroom, and returns with her Dolce Gabbana bag. She puts the bag on the ground next to Orbit and unzips a pocket inside. She pulls out a tied-off baggie of off-white, yellowish powder cocaine, another baggie with a brownish powder, and a hypodermic needle. She takes a spoon out of the silverware door and a dinner plate out of the cabinet. She puts the coke baggie in her mouth and rips off the knot with her teeth. She dumps it onto the plate. She does the same with the heroin baggie. She places the needle sideways in her mouth, holding it with her teeth. She takes the cap off of the needle and uses it to scoop a very small amount of cocaine into the spoon. She takes the needle out of her mouth and draws some water from the glass. She shoots the water into the spoon. She uses the top of the needle (the "plunger) to mix the cocaine and the water. When the cocaine has dissolved, she draws it into the needle. She holds it to her face and looks at it's contents, using her finger to flick out the air bubbles. Satisfied that the shot is prepared, she begins to search Orbit's arm for a good vein. She finds several.
Valencia: Fucking body builders. Wish I had veins like this.
She gently inserts the tip of the needle into Orbit's vein. She draws back slightly on the plunger and a drop of blood enters the syringe, confirming that she has entered the bloodstream. She presses down on the plunger. Orbit's eyes open. He jumps up-- and looks down, seeing the needle in his arm.
Steve Orbit: Yo, what the--
Valencia: Wait, let me--
Orbit rips the needle out of his arm. A drop of blood runs down his arm.
Steve Orbit: What the fuck you doin' to me, bitch?
"DING DONG"
Orbit looks enraged. Like a coked-up lunatic. Which he is.
Steve Orbit: Who the fuck is at the door? What fuckin' time is it?
Orbit grabs Valencia by the neck and THROWS her against the wall, lifting her off of her feet by the neck.
Steve Orbit: Tell me what the FUCK is goin' on, you fuckin' bitch!
Valencia can't respond. He's choking her.
Orbit's eyes are wide and he's breathing heavily. After a few moments, he seems to calm down. He releases her and takes a step back. Valencia rubs her neck.
Steve Orbit: Why do I feel so fucked up? You drug me with heroin? HUH?
Valencia: No! It was coke.
Steve Orbit: What?! Why the fuck did you do that?
Valencia: I just-- you were passed out drunk, and someone was at the door, I didn't know what to do!
Orbit looks down at his arm in disbelief. Valencia goes back down to the ground, to the plate. She takes out another needle and begins to prep a shot, this time adding coke and heroin to the spoon.
Steve Orbit: You coulda just... I dunno, told whoever it is to come back later? Ignored it? What the fuck, girl! Damn!
Valencia grabs a nearby phone charger and wraps the cord around her upper arm. She puts the needle in her arm and moves it around a few times before she can connect with a vein. She shoots the speedball.
Steve Orbit: I knew you liked to party, but damn...
She leans against the wall with her eyes closed and a slight smile on her face. Enjoying the high.
"DING DONG"
Steve Orbit: COMING!
Orbit looks in the mirror and shrugs. He's fine. Feeling good, actually. He turns to Valencia.
Steve Orbit: You gotta clean that shit up, girl. And get your fucked up ass in the bedroom, I got some business to take care of.
Valencia puts everything on the plate, grabs her D&C bag, and heads back into the bedroom. Orbit begins to walk towards the front door. He stops at a closet and takes out a robe, throwing it on and tying the waist. He finally gets to the door and opens it.
Freddy Whoa stands at the door with a cheesy grin on his face. He's wearing his usual WCF issued cheap suit and holding a mic for no reason.
Orbit puts his hand out as if checking if Freddy is real. Freddy backs away.
Steve Orbit: Chill man, I thought you were a fuckin'... cardboard cutout or a hologram or somethin'. Come on in, homie.
Freddy enters the home, following Orbit into the living area. Freddy sits on the couch. Orbit sits... and then stands again.
Freddy Whoa: You alright? You seem... nervous.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, I'm cool. Don't worry about it. What's up?
Freddy looks through his notes.
Freddy Whoa: Well... "they" sent me to ask you about the six-man tag team main event at Slam this week. Before we get to that, I wanted to ask you somethin'. Off the record.
Orbit takes a seat across from Freddy, intrigued.
Steve Orbit: Go 'head.
Freddy Whoa: After your match with Fly... you said something to me, and I can't get it out of my head.
Orbit nods, leaning back in the chair.
Freddy Whoa: You said you'll "never be that guy". You'll "never be the top guy" in the WCF.
Steve Orbit: Right.
Freddy Whoa: Now, I been talkin' to people all week, and... I mean, you have a lot of support here, man. There's a lot of people in the office, in the locker room, and especially fans, who have a lot of respect for you. They think you're one of the best. You saying that to me... it didn't sound like something you would normally say. I guess what I'm asking is, do you still feel that way, or was that the initial disappointment of losing to Fly?
Orbit leans forward in the chair.
Steve Orbit: Initial disappointment, Freddy? It hadn't even sank in, yet. The disappointment.
Freddy Whoa: So, you--
Steve Orbit: I'm not gettin' into it. Sorry. Here's my official response. I am disappointed in my performance at One, because I KNOW I can beat Fly. He beat me, and he beat me with literally everything on the line. For Fly, it was just a fuckin' title defense. For me, it was vengeance, it was payback for this man who tried to take my fuckin' LIFE away from me. And still, he beat me, I lost. And that's fine. BUT. The rematch is on. The One rematch is on. Until then, I don't wanna hear no more about the One main event.
Freddy Whoa: Alright. Let's move on to this week, then. You must have been surprised when you learned you would be teaming with Logan and Chelsea Black Armstrong.
Orbit gets up from the chair and walks to the window, looking outside.
Steve Orbit: Who cares.
Freddy Whoa: Uh... what?
Steve Orbit: It's just another week. These matches don't matter. Nobody remembers them. If we win, great. If we lose... whatever.
Freddy pauses for a moment, letting that soak in.
Freddy Whoa: Ok, but, you have a lot of history with Logan. Everyone remembers the 'Sarah Twilight' situation, where Logan became a drag queen who was obsessed with you--
Steve Orbit: Yup. We alllll remember it. Now I'm supposed to go out there, slap hands with this mother fucker like it's all good. GO TEAM, right Freddy?
Freddy Whoa: ... Right.
Orbit turns away from the window and begins to pace around the room.
Steve Orbit: Logan is a fuckin' mess. Who knows if he's even gonna show up or not? If he shows up, he'll fight. I'm not gonna get into all this other bullshit with him. There's a time and a place for things, Freddy. As long as he don't come out wearing a red mother fuckin' wig, we good.
Freddy Whoa: What about Chelsea Black Armstrong? She's been quite a rising star in the WCF, with her recent TV title run. Are you looking forward to competing on the same side as her?
Steve Orbit: I guess-- I dunno, how am I supposed to feel? I don't know the bitch from nothin'. I watched her, sure. I remember her husband's little tag team... Justice, with that other guy-- can't remember his name. They was a flash in the pan, wasn't they? Anyway, to me, it always seemed like Chelsea was the wrestler in the family. Seifer was the wanna-be. So I think it worked out the right way, with Chelsea in the main event, and her husband watching from home or whatever the fuck he doin' these days.
Freddy looks like he's not sure what to make of that.
Freddy Whoa: Ok... so... you know, nevermind. That's enough about your team.
Steve Orbit: Right. We all professionals at the end of the day. We'll do what we supposed to do.
Freddy Whoa: Let's move on to your opponents. Waylon Cash, Oblivion, and... Jonny Fly.
Orbit returns to his seat across from Freddy.
Steve Orbit: Honestly, I don't give a fuck about any one of 'em. I fought Waylon for half of 2013. I'm bored with Waylon Cash. We used Homegrown Players as a means to elevate ourselves in this company. It worked. I went on to main event the second half of 2013. Waylon went on to start another fuckin' mid-card tag team. He can talk all the bullshit he wants, and I'll be the first to admit that I've never held a decisive victory over him, but to say that he's better than me... I don't think there's any way to stand on that argument. He's a fuckin' joke. S-PAC is a joke. They're fuckin' wanna-bes. They get a big win once in a while and then they fuckin' collapse. For a team that supposedly has this "brilliant" manager, they sure don't know how to fuckin' manage themselves. Waylon Cash bounces around the card like a fuckin' ping pong. He's a joke. A boring joke.
Freddy Whoa: So there's still some bad blood between you two, or not?
Steve Orbit: I guess. Fuck Waylon Cash. He's not even worth sweatin' over. Who the fuck is he, really? What has he accomplished? He's a redneck pussy. Fuck him.
Freddy Whoa: What about Oblivion?
Orbit starts to look sleepy. He's rubbing his eyes.
Steve Orbit: Oh yeah, the monster. I ain't afraid of no fuckin' monsters. IT's gonna get treated like a prostitute on Sunset Boulevard if he really wants to step to the Mack at Slam. I got a brand new backslap that'll park him like a Cadillac. Fuck him. Got nothin' on me. That's Logan's bitch right there. Logan handled that mother fucker. I suppose he's the "muscle" of the group. Well, I'm the DICK of my group and I'ma be fuckin' everybody on Sunday. They all gonna get cock slapped the fuck up. I'ma swing my fuckin' dick around...
Orbit's starting to slur his words. The coke is wearing off. The alcohol is starting to take over again. His eyes begin to flutter. Freddy looks concerned.
Freddy Whoa: ... Steve, are you okay, bro?
Orbit looks confused.
Steve Orbit: What?
Freddy Whoa: You alright? You look tired--
Orbit falls out of the chair with a BOOM. Freddy jumps up.
Freddy Whoa: Holy shit!
Freddy searches his pockets for his cellphone. He finally finds it-- just as Valencia runs out from the bedroom. She's still wearing the same pink polo, but she looks FUCKED up. Her eyes are wild with dark circles underneath. Her skin is pale.
Valencia: What happened to him?
She notices the phone.
Valencia: What are you doing?!
She grabs the phone out of his hand. Freddy looks really confused now.
Freddy Whoa: We was talkin', and then he passed out-- I was callin' an ambulance!
Valencia: He doesn't need a fucking ambulance. Just go, I'll deal with him.
Freddy Whoa: Well, I wasn't quite finished--
Valencia: You're finished now. Leave!
Valencia hands Freddy his cellphone. He grabs his notebook and walks towards the door. As he reaches the door, he turns back to look, and sees Valencia kneeling over Orbit. She looks up at Freddy.
Valencia: GO!
Freddy leaves, closing the door behind him.
Valencia shakes Orbit, who is mumbling.
Valencia: You're gonna be ok, baby... poor baby...
She heads back to the bedroom and returns with the plate and all the goodies. She sits on the floor next to Orbit, Indian style, and begins to set things up.
And we fade out.
The sound of the circular clock on the wall is the only thing we hear. Moonlight shines through the window and we can see that it reads 3:01. "The Mack" Steve Orbit lays in bed on top of the messy covers. He's in nothing but boxers. Closer examination reveals that his eyes are open, staring at the ceiling.
After a few moments, the sound of the toilet flushing is heard from the adjacent bathroom. Valencia, a 20 year old Brazilian girl who works at Club Violet, enters the scene. She crawls back into the bed, sleepy-eyed. She looks upon Orbit and begins to rub his chest, speaking softly in her South American accent.
Valencia: Still awake?
Orbit sighs.
Steve Orbit: I ain't been gettin' much sleep lately.
She curls up next to him, lightly kissing his shoulder up to his cheek.
Valencia: I thought I would have worn you out.
He forces a smile and kisses her on the lips. He runs his fingers through her hair.
Valencia: If there's anything you want to talk about... I'm here.
It takes a few moments for Steve to respond.
Steve Orbit: It's just... I feel like I'm finished, you know what I'm sayin'? You ever feel like... everything you do ain't been for nothin'? Like... no matter how hard you fuckin' try, how much work you put in, you just never gonna... never gonna be where you wanna be at? It's like, sometimes I feel like I'm runnin' on a mother fuckin' treadmill. I'm sweatin', and my body is tired and achin', my mind is exhausted, but when I look around, I'm still in the same fuckin' spot. You know what I'm--
"Snoooooore."
Orbit turns his head to Valencia and realizes she's fast asleep. He chuckles and shakes his head. He sits up and spins his legs off of the bed, stretching as he stands. He walks down the hall and into the kitchen, flicking on the light. He opens a cabinet and grabs a bottle of Hennessy, pouring it into a nearby glass. He takes a small sip... and then a long swig, finishing the glass. He pours another and then has a seat at the table. He sits... alone. As he begins to down the second glass, the scene fades out.
==
Several hours later, it's late morning. Almost noon. Valencia exits the bedroom, wearing one of Orbit's pink polo shirts, which fits like a dress on her tiny frame. She walks into the kitchen and stops short-- finding Orbit laying on the floor, naked and passed out. Two empty bottles of Hennessy are on the counter and a broken glass is next to Orbit. The stripper kneels down next to him, lightly shaking him.
Valencia: Steve...
She begins to shake him a bit harder. No response.
"DING DONG"
The doorbell rings. Valencia begins to panic.
Valencia: Shit, shit... shit!
She takes a glass out from the cabinet and pours cold water from the faucet. She pours it over Steve's head. He moves, barely opening his eyes and mumbling. Seconds later, he's passed out again.
"DING DONG"
The doorbell rings again. Valencia runs to the bedroom, and returns with her Dolce Gabbana bag. She puts the bag on the ground next to Orbit and unzips a pocket inside. She pulls out a tied-off baggie of off-white, yellowish powder cocaine, another baggie with a brownish powder, and a hypodermic needle. She takes a spoon out of the silverware door and a dinner plate out of the cabinet. She puts the coke baggie in her mouth and rips off the knot with her teeth. She dumps it onto the plate. She does the same with the heroin baggie. She places the needle sideways in her mouth, holding it with her teeth. She takes the cap off of the needle and uses it to scoop a very small amount of cocaine into the spoon. She takes the needle out of her mouth and draws some water from the glass. She shoots the water into the spoon. She uses the top of the needle (the "plunger) to mix the cocaine and the water. When the cocaine has dissolved, she draws it into the needle. She holds it to her face and looks at it's contents, using her finger to flick out the air bubbles. Satisfied that the shot is prepared, she begins to search Orbit's arm for a good vein. She finds several.
Valencia: Fucking body builders. Wish I had veins like this.
She gently inserts the tip of the needle into Orbit's vein. She draws back slightly on the plunger and a drop of blood enters the syringe, confirming that she has entered the bloodstream. She presses down on the plunger. Orbit's eyes open. He jumps up-- and looks down, seeing the needle in his arm.
Steve Orbit: Yo, what the--
Valencia: Wait, let me--
Orbit rips the needle out of his arm. A drop of blood runs down his arm.
Steve Orbit: What the fuck you doin' to me, bitch?
"DING DONG"
Orbit looks enraged. Like a coked-up lunatic. Which he is.
Steve Orbit: Who the fuck is at the door? What fuckin' time is it?
Orbit grabs Valencia by the neck and THROWS her against the wall, lifting her off of her feet by the neck.
Steve Orbit: Tell me what the FUCK is goin' on, you fuckin' bitch!
Valencia can't respond. He's choking her.
Orbit's eyes are wide and he's breathing heavily. After a few moments, he seems to calm down. He releases her and takes a step back. Valencia rubs her neck.
Steve Orbit: Why do I feel so fucked up? You drug me with heroin? HUH?
Valencia: No! It was coke.
Steve Orbit: What?! Why the fuck did you do that?
Valencia: I just-- you were passed out drunk, and someone was at the door, I didn't know what to do!
Orbit looks down at his arm in disbelief. Valencia goes back down to the ground, to the plate. She takes out another needle and begins to prep a shot, this time adding coke and heroin to the spoon.
Steve Orbit: You coulda just... I dunno, told whoever it is to come back later? Ignored it? What the fuck, girl! Damn!
Valencia grabs a nearby phone charger and wraps the cord around her upper arm. She puts the needle in her arm and moves it around a few times before she can connect with a vein. She shoots the speedball.
Steve Orbit: I knew you liked to party, but damn...
She leans against the wall with her eyes closed and a slight smile on her face. Enjoying the high.
"DING DONG"
Steve Orbit: COMING!
Orbit looks in the mirror and shrugs. He's fine. Feeling good, actually. He turns to Valencia.
Steve Orbit: You gotta clean that shit up, girl. And get your fucked up ass in the bedroom, I got some business to take care of.
Valencia puts everything on the plate, grabs her D&C bag, and heads back into the bedroom. Orbit begins to walk towards the front door. He stops at a closet and takes out a robe, throwing it on and tying the waist. He finally gets to the door and opens it.
Freddy Whoa stands at the door with a cheesy grin on his face. He's wearing his usual WCF issued cheap suit and holding a mic for no reason.
Orbit puts his hand out as if checking if Freddy is real. Freddy backs away.
Steve Orbit: Chill man, I thought you were a fuckin'... cardboard cutout or a hologram or somethin'. Come on in, homie.
Freddy enters the home, following Orbit into the living area. Freddy sits on the couch. Orbit sits... and then stands again.
Freddy Whoa: You alright? You seem... nervous.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, I'm cool. Don't worry about it. What's up?
Freddy looks through his notes.
Freddy Whoa: Well... "they" sent me to ask you about the six-man tag team main event at Slam this week. Before we get to that, I wanted to ask you somethin'. Off the record.
Orbit takes a seat across from Freddy, intrigued.
Steve Orbit: Go 'head.
Freddy Whoa: After your match with Fly... you said something to me, and I can't get it out of my head.
Orbit nods, leaning back in the chair.
Freddy Whoa: You said you'll "never be that guy". You'll "never be the top guy" in the WCF.
Steve Orbit: Right.
Freddy Whoa: Now, I been talkin' to people all week, and... I mean, you have a lot of support here, man. There's a lot of people in the office, in the locker room, and especially fans, who have a lot of respect for you. They think you're one of the best. You saying that to me... it didn't sound like something you would normally say. I guess what I'm asking is, do you still feel that way, or was that the initial disappointment of losing to Fly?
Orbit leans forward in the chair.
Steve Orbit: Initial disappointment, Freddy? It hadn't even sank in, yet. The disappointment.
Freddy Whoa: So, you--
Steve Orbit: I'm not gettin' into it. Sorry. Here's my official response. I am disappointed in my performance at One, because I KNOW I can beat Fly. He beat me, and he beat me with literally everything on the line. For Fly, it was just a fuckin' title defense. For me, it was vengeance, it was payback for this man who tried to take my fuckin' LIFE away from me. And still, he beat me, I lost. And that's fine. BUT. The rematch is on. The One rematch is on. Until then, I don't wanna hear no more about the One main event.
Freddy Whoa: Alright. Let's move on to this week, then. You must have been surprised when you learned you would be teaming with Logan and Chelsea Black Armstrong.
Orbit gets up from the chair and walks to the window, looking outside.
Steve Orbit: Who cares.
Freddy Whoa: Uh... what?
Steve Orbit: It's just another week. These matches don't matter. Nobody remembers them. If we win, great. If we lose... whatever.
Freddy pauses for a moment, letting that soak in.
Freddy Whoa: Ok, but, you have a lot of history with Logan. Everyone remembers the 'Sarah Twilight' situation, where Logan became a drag queen who was obsessed with you--
Steve Orbit: Yup. We alllll remember it. Now I'm supposed to go out there, slap hands with this mother fucker like it's all good. GO TEAM, right Freddy?
Freddy Whoa: ... Right.
Orbit turns away from the window and begins to pace around the room.
Steve Orbit: Logan is a fuckin' mess. Who knows if he's even gonna show up or not? If he shows up, he'll fight. I'm not gonna get into all this other bullshit with him. There's a time and a place for things, Freddy. As long as he don't come out wearing a red mother fuckin' wig, we good.
Freddy Whoa: What about Chelsea Black Armstrong? She's been quite a rising star in the WCF, with her recent TV title run. Are you looking forward to competing on the same side as her?
Steve Orbit: I guess-- I dunno, how am I supposed to feel? I don't know the bitch from nothin'. I watched her, sure. I remember her husband's little tag team... Justice, with that other guy-- can't remember his name. They was a flash in the pan, wasn't they? Anyway, to me, it always seemed like Chelsea was the wrestler in the family. Seifer was the wanna-be. So I think it worked out the right way, with Chelsea in the main event, and her husband watching from home or whatever the fuck he doin' these days.
Freddy looks like he's not sure what to make of that.
Freddy Whoa: Ok... so... you know, nevermind. That's enough about your team.
Steve Orbit: Right. We all professionals at the end of the day. We'll do what we supposed to do.
Freddy Whoa: Let's move on to your opponents. Waylon Cash, Oblivion, and... Jonny Fly.
Orbit returns to his seat across from Freddy.
Steve Orbit: Honestly, I don't give a fuck about any one of 'em. I fought Waylon for half of 2013. I'm bored with Waylon Cash. We used Homegrown Players as a means to elevate ourselves in this company. It worked. I went on to main event the second half of 2013. Waylon went on to start another fuckin' mid-card tag team. He can talk all the bullshit he wants, and I'll be the first to admit that I've never held a decisive victory over him, but to say that he's better than me... I don't think there's any way to stand on that argument. He's a fuckin' joke. S-PAC is a joke. They're fuckin' wanna-bes. They get a big win once in a while and then they fuckin' collapse. For a team that supposedly has this "brilliant" manager, they sure don't know how to fuckin' manage themselves. Waylon Cash bounces around the card like a fuckin' ping pong. He's a joke. A boring joke.
Freddy Whoa: So there's still some bad blood between you two, or not?
Steve Orbit: I guess. Fuck Waylon Cash. He's not even worth sweatin' over. Who the fuck is he, really? What has he accomplished? He's a redneck pussy. Fuck him.
Freddy Whoa: What about Oblivion?
Orbit starts to look sleepy. He's rubbing his eyes.
Steve Orbit: Oh yeah, the monster. I ain't afraid of no fuckin' monsters. IT's gonna get treated like a prostitute on Sunset Boulevard if he really wants to step to the Mack at Slam. I got a brand new backslap that'll park him like a Cadillac. Fuck him. Got nothin' on me. That's Logan's bitch right there. Logan handled that mother fucker. I suppose he's the "muscle" of the group. Well, I'm the DICK of my group and I'ma be fuckin' everybody on Sunday. They all gonna get cock slapped the fuck up. I'ma swing my fuckin' dick around...
Orbit's starting to slur his words. The coke is wearing off. The alcohol is starting to take over again. His eyes begin to flutter. Freddy looks concerned.
Freddy Whoa: ... Steve, are you okay, bro?
Orbit looks confused.
Steve Orbit: What?
Freddy Whoa: You alright? You look tired--
Orbit falls out of the chair with a BOOM. Freddy jumps up.
Freddy Whoa: Holy shit!
Freddy searches his pockets for his cellphone. He finally finds it-- just as Valencia runs out from the bedroom. She's still wearing the same pink polo, but she looks FUCKED up. Her eyes are wild with dark circles underneath. Her skin is pale.
Valencia: What happened to him?
She notices the phone.
Valencia: What are you doing?!
She grabs the phone out of his hand. Freddy looks really confused now.
Freddy Whoa: We was talkin', and then he passed out-- I was callin' an ambulance!
Valencia: He doesn't need a fucking ambulance. Just go, I'll deal with him.
Freddy Whoa: Well, I wasn't quite finished--
Valencia: You're finished now. Leave!
Valencia hands Freddy his cellphone. He grabs his notebook and walks towards the door. As he reaches the door, he turns back to look, and sees Valencia kneeling over Orbit. She looks up at Freddy.
Valencia: GO!
Freddy leaves, closing the door behind him.
Valencia shakes Orbit, who is mumbling.
Valencia: You're gonna be ok, baby... poor baby...
She heads back to the bedroom and returns with the plate and all the goodies. She sits on the floor next to Orbit, Indian style, and begins to set things up.
And we fade out.
