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Roxy Lalonde was many things. A computer genius, gaming expert, hairdresser extraordinaire, and cat lover, just to name a few. But, at the moment, she was dressed to the nines and sober. She looked good all the time, a given, but she was rarely sober at. . .nine at night, according to the DVR. A perplexed Dirk Strider looked up from the magazine to where she was standing at the opposite end of the couch.
"Roxy. . .," Dirk drew slowly in his almost non-existent Texan accent. Almost.
"Dirk," she answered.
"Why are yo-"
"WE are going out!" Roxy stated. She had made a wide gesticulation between the both of them when she had said 'WE'. Maybe she was slightly tipsy.
"No," Dirk responded.
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes." Roxy was getting annoyed. Dirk could tell by her tone, but, good lord, he really didn't want to go out.
Dirk practically threw his magazine on the floor in defiance. "No," he pointed a finger at her," we are not!" Roxy crossed her arms and stepped closer to the door of their shitty two-room apartment.
"You can't stop me," she sang, rocking on her tall overly-pink heels.
"Oh, but I will," Dirk sat up on the dilapidated couch, "because if you go alone you'll get plastered and pass out before waking up in New Jersey an-"
"That was one time," She whispered and whined.
"-and if we go together we'll both get drunk, but I'll end up with some sort of injury from trying to make sure you don't do something ridiculous."
"Only once," she repeated. She held up one finger to help prove her point.
Dirk held up two. "More like eleven times," he retorted by mimicking her sing song tone.
Roxy stomped her feet. "We haven't gone out in, like, a month."
"Bullshit, Rox. You went out two weeks ago." Roxy sighed and threw her arms in the air, walking around to the end of kitchen table that they were, by some miracle, able to fit into the apartment.
"Yeah, just me! It's funner when I'm not alone!" Roxy gave him a pouty puppy dog look. He didn't bother to tell her 'funner' wasn't a real word.
"Roxy," he said sternly.
"Di-Stri," she pleaded.
Dirk sighed. There was probably no use in fighting in it, anyway. She almost always got her way. Dirk was almost always willing to give it to her, in all honesty. "Do we have to go drinking, of all things?" A few seconds passed before it clicked and Roxy clapped in victory. Dirk was wrapped around her finger, no matter how much he tried not to be, and she knew it. "We could play video games. Anything, please, I'll let you win."
Roxy scoffed. "Let me win, my ass." She checked the time on her phone before pocketing it back into her pink clutch. "Come on, Di-Stri. Everything's opening, and I want the good liquor!" She was doing the thing where her eye's were only half open now, knowing she looked absolutely adorable even when it seemed she was sleepy. Dirk was hooked and there wasn't anyway he was going to get out of this.
"I," Dirk sighed and rubbed his eyes beneath his shades, "guess it'll be good to get out and away from all the damn windows you had installed in here," he joked. It was always about the windows.
Roxy grinned and closed her eyes, nodding because she knew he was done fighting her. "They're 'fenestrated planes' and they help the electric bill, damn it." She feigned being angry, but they both laughed.
" They better. Cost a damn good amount." They both laughed. "I'll go get dressed then," Dirk told her as he paced backwards to his own room.
"Good. Hurry it, though. Cab's here, and bring your wallet. I can't find mine," she whispered the last of sentence into her sleeve.
Dirk looked at her, startled. "And had I said 'no'?" She shrugged, looking stunned herself, as if she hadn't even contemplated the fact that Dirk might put his foot down. Rolling his eyes, Dirk hurried to put on something bar-worthy, like a-
"No wife-beaters either, Strider," Roxy called.
Damn.
"Is it smart to start off the night with a row of shots?" Roxy wasn't listening and opted instead to down the five tiny glasses before wiping her mouth.
"Like a give a fuck," she muttered under her breath. "Order something," she told Dirk, louder this time, patting him on the chest. Dirk waved at the bartender.
"Just a gin and bitters for me, please." The bartender's smile slowly faded with each word. Roxy shook her head and flicked her hand in dismissal.
"Just get him a vodka and coke, thanks." She flashed the bartender a fake smile before turning to Dirk.
He looked down into her pink eyes. "I don't even like vodka and coke."
"We'll get you some beers later, champ, but I didn't drag you out here to pretend it's the seventies. 'Gin and bitters', Jesus. I didn't know they still made that stuff." Roxy laughed a still sober laugh.
"Does that translate to you used to lift it off your mom and have yet to drink it since."
Roxy ordered a martini from the other passing bartender. "Bingo, cowboy. You want an award, Sherlock?" The second of the two bartenders dropped off both the drinks. Roxy drank all of her martini in one swift swig, but Dirk only sipped his drink. Roxy ordered another. "Come on, drink it, Di-Stri! You want to level up to beers you got actually drink a bit first." Dirk rolled his eyes again, an apparent theme for the night, and finished his drink.
"Happy," he asked. It didn't burn as much as he thought it would, thank God. Dirk tried to leave alcohol department to Roxy whenever possible.
"Very," she answered. "Hey, another for this guy," she told the bartender.
"Hic!"
"What the hell was that?" Roxy and Dirk had left the first dive a long time ago and found there way to some freezing club where they were still glued to bar. Roxy was giddily trying to cover her mouth with her purple scarf.
"What was that noise?" Roxy was practically doubled over on the bar stool in hysterics.
"Hic!" Roxy laughed harder.
"Do you have the hiccups?" They were both trying to keep it together and not burst out in drunken laughter. Roxy nodded vigorously as she silently laughed. "You look like a hyena!" Dirk told her. She leaned over and hit him on the shoulder, hiccupping at the same time. Their laughter turned from regular laughter to snorts to full out howls.
"We are gonna get kicked-hic!- the fuck outta the bar if you don't shut up!" Dirk finished chugging his beer. By this time both had lost count of how much the other had drank. Not exactly good.
"Me?" Dirk looked bewildered. "You're the one drunk off your ass with hiccups."
"You're not helping here!"
"Oh, why is this so funny?"
"I don't even kn-hic!"
"Oh, God!" Dirk was clenching the counter with one hand and the other was wiping away tears. Roxy laid her head on the cool faux ebony of the bar counter, still vibrating with giggles and chortles.
"You need to shut the fuck up," she whispered to him.
"I-I know." He signaled the bartender for another beer, having passed the 'vodka and coke' level before they had left the first bar. "I gotta, gotta calm down." He tried evening out his breathing and made circular hand motions to mimic breathing. "Gotta breath, gotta-"
"Go fast!" They both broke into a fit again.
"God damn it, Ro-lal!"
"Hic!" It was taking the pair every last bit of strength not to fall to the dirty club floor and laugh until they're guts burst.
"Don't' quote the damn internet in public, Rox," Dirk fake scolded.
Roxy reached over Dirk's arm for his beer and took a quick swig. "Whoops," she shrugged. Dirk couldn't even pretend to be mad and just shook his head.
"What'da ya think your doing?" Roxy wheeled around on her heels and swatted at the hand on the small of her back.
"Baby, why you gotta look so upset?" Oh, he must have the wrong person, Roxy thought.
"Uh, I don't think we know each, so please just let me leave." She tried stepping around him, closer to the bar and to Dirk. The creep just blocked her way. She pushed him slightly. "Please, just leave me alone." He still followed her steps and blocked her path. Roxy was getting fed the fuck up. "Seriously, fuck off." Roxy pushed harder but still couldn't get around the wall of greased asshole.
"Look, babe, no need to be such a damn bitch, yeah? Instead, let's just skip outta this place, huh?" Roxy threw up in her mouth a bit, but nodded politely. She quickly turned to the closest empty table and shimmied her purse onto the table. Hoops: on the table also. Bracelets: off. Necklace: none. Rings: none. Damn. Roxy put on her best fake yet seductive smile and quickly spun around on her heel.
Then connected her fist to the jackass' jaw.
The bar exploded in hoots and hollers, but before she could stick her heel where it would really hurt a pair of strong tanned arms were wrapped around her torso, holding her back.
"What the hell were you doing to my girlfriend?" None of them thought twice about what Dirk said.
"Your crazy-ass girlfriend attacked me," the guy spat, holding his jaw. Roxy scoffed.
“I’ll show you crazy-ass, you perv!” Roxy tried lunging at him, but Dirk held her back, and the other guy and his goonies flinched backward. She clawed the empty space.
“Yeah that’s right, you douche. Hold your bitch back,” he muttered.
“What!?” They screamed in unison. “What did I do to you,” Dirk asked. Roxy only breathed harder.
“What, I calls ‘em as I sees em. Only two people wear sunglasses inside: blind people and douche bags,” the guy drawled.
“Stay put,” Dirk whispered in Roxy’s ear. She didn’t say anything, but Dirk removed his arms cautiously anyway. She fidgeted a bit but stood in place. Dirk stepped up to they guy that had called out his sunglasses. Chest to chest, Dirk almost towered him.
“You forgot one,” he told him smugly. The guy only had a millisecond to raise an eyebrow before Dirk connected his left fist to the guys right temple. The bar exploded in gasps, but the dude's friends were too stunned to moved. “Number three: assholes with black eyes from bar fights.” That’s the point where all the cronies were starting to gang up on Dirk while there friend held his face in pain with a string of curses starting with ‘why, you little…’
“You and your friend should probably get going, blondie,” warned the woman working the bar.
Dirk dragged Roxy through the crowded space, grabbing his wallet off the counter. “Was just planning on it,” he told her quickly. A bell chimed as the door opened and shut behind them. The New York night air outside was the bar was cold for late fall, enough so Dirk could see his breath when he breathed, yet Roxy felt fine in her short sleeved top and boiling blood.
“You shoulda let me destroy that pig!” Roxy spat, seething.
“I think they got the point, Rox.” Roxy didn’t say anything again and pulled the scarf tight around herself. They both walked (drunkenly stumbled, in all honesty) towards the darkness in a random direction.
“Holy motherfucking shit,” Dirk gasped.
“You can say that again,” Roxy told him amazed.
“Holy motherfucking shit,” he said slower.
They had walked for God knows how long before stopping at the most amazing sight either had seen: a giant-ass garden gnome.
“The world’s largest garden gnome. Route two-hundred and nine, Kerhonkson, New York,” Roxy pointed out.
“How in the hell do you know that,” Dirk asked, lying on his back and staring up at the most majestic bearded face in apparently the world. Roxy pointed to the plaque at the gnome’s feet. “How the hell are your saber enough to read?”
“‘Saber’?”
“You know what I mean, Rolo.” Dirk rolled over and pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes and groaned. Roxy shook her head at the patheticness of it all.
“I hold alcohol better than you do, Strider,” she told him.
“You bet,” he whispered in the night wind. Roxy thought quietly at the feet of the gnome. She looked to her friend.
“You called me ‘your girlfriend’ at the bar,” she reminded him.
“That creep woulda tried to keep hitting on you had I said friend.” The sentence came out choppy and slurred but understandable nonetheless. Dirk tried to shrug while still laying down. “Unless you wanna be my girlfriend,” he said quietly. Roxy snapped her eyes away from where they wandered back to the gnome and the chipping paint near it’s gigantic feet.
“What?”
Dirk giggled, like, no shit, straight up fucking giggled. “I certainly wouldn’t mind, Rox. You only are the most beautiful, most smart, most …,” Roxy tuned him out and backed closer to the gnome.
“Are you serious, or are you, like, super drunk right now?” Roxy looked at her friend, damn near passing out in an open field, concerned.
“A little bit of both,” he said exasperated.
“Oh God,” Roxy groaned. “I thought you had thing for Jake, like, I was damn near certain.” Neither had noticed how the her voice had jumped worried octaves.
“Did Jake flirt with me with years on end? Do me and Jake live together?” Dirk started twisting and turning on the grass as if it were his own bed and not hard ground.
“Oh, shit. We do live together.”
“Duh,” Dirk whispered. Roxy quickly stood up. Oh, bad idea. She brushed off her skirt and tights and looked down at her drunken friend, very dizzy and almost blind from the dark spots in her vision.
“Oh, I hope you’re just super drunk,” she muttered.
“You’re so funny Roxy. I love you.”
“Don’t say that!”
“Why,” Dirk questioned, yawning. Roxy couldn’t think of an good answer to give that wouldn't hurt him before she heard snores.
“I’m gonna go home,” she informed the sleeping body. “Walk, I guess. You’re the one with cash,” she tacked on, yawning herself. She turned toward the road opposite of direction she walked from. “Guess it’s better than New Jersey,” she spoke to no one in particular.
It only took forty five minutes before Roxy was back on the shopping streets near the apartment complex. Most of the store windows for dark, save for a few late night places. Okay, early early morning places. Preoccupied Roxy hadn’t noticed the neon lights, though. She was busy thinking, thinking of anything except what her best friend told her in front of the gaze of a gargantuan gnome. What mostly filled up her slightly drunk and drowsy head was a tune. She knew the song but couldn't place it, and only a verse was really sticking to memory.
‘Drinking champagne to forget yesterday. Coz I remember, the way, the way, the way. It ended the day, the day, the day, the day. That I walked away, away, away, away . . .’ And that was all she could remember, along with the vaguely operatic voice that sang the words. ‘The altogether fitting words,’ she thought.
And speaking of champagne. . . Roxy lifted her head to the neon outline of a martini glass in a dirty window surrounded by posters of beers in the sand. Champagne sounded good.
A bell rang over head and crappy ceiling lights lit the rows of different alcoholic beverages and liquors. The man at the counter up front looked up from his newspaper and almost jumped. “Jeez! It ain’t my place to judge, lady, but you might wanna lay off the alcohol.” Roxy ignored him, but it was probably true. Almost an hour of walking in the cold, tired eyes from the long night, now messed up hair from sitting and lying on the ground a bit, and Roxy could only imagine what her make-up looked like. She walked up and the down the isles stopping at a bottle of something pink. Wine, not champagne, but there was barely a difference. She walked the bottle up to the counter. There was a radio quietly playing on the counter where the man shook his head but still rung up the bottle. “Ten bucks.”
The cogs clicked for Roxy. “Oh no,” she wailed. She looked around for a second but ended up lying on the counter.
The man panicked. “Um, uh, do you not have money?” Roxy wailed again. She had spent an hour or so on her hair to get to into the new-aged vintage replicate of the fifties style she likes so much, but now her shaking her head caused what little hairspray had remained to give out, and her hair fell into it’s natural loose ringlets around her shoulders. Roxy cried.
“No, no, no. Please don’t cry! You can. . . have the wine, please! Just don’t cry!” Roxy stood straight up and looked at the clerk.
“Really?” She rubbed her eyes. The clerk fearfully nodded his head. “Oh, thank you!” She grabbed the bottle and hugged the clerk over the dirty counter. She pulled back and looked at the wine then back to the clerk. “It’s just been a long night, and I’m really grateful, and-,” the clerk cut her off.
“Just please go! Please!” He gestured at the door. Roxy nodded.
As Roxy walked out the door, bell ringing after her, she caught the last bit of the new song that came from the radio on the counter.
‘I’ve been drinking, I’ve been drinking.’ Roxy slightly laughed as she walked down the stoop of the shop, not hearing the next line. The music tonight was fitting.
‘I’ve been thinking, I’ve been thinking,’ the song continued. She hummed as she made her way down the sidewalk, thinking of the score of alcohol in her hands and not of Dirk. Thinking of how she should finish Super Paper Mario and not of how Dirk probably won't remember what he said. Of how she hadn't volunteered at an animal shelter in a long time and not of how awkward it's gonna be knowing her best friend 'loved' her. Not at all.