doedeer
Member
tommy
bumping over the speakers
: sorry bout that - yeat
: sorry bout that - yeat
saturday, october 7th. tommy’s best friend j.j. throws a party at his parent’s house while they’re away on vacation. it’s a typical party night for students from roosevelt. it was cold outside like always in seattle but it was heated inside the white, two-story house filled with drugs, loud music and dancing. tommy had been there all morning, lazily setting up for the affair with j.j. and his friends–a.k.a. smoking weed, crushing beers and fucking around with the speakers. he’d left briefly around eight o’clock to cop some party favors to sell throughout the night, but as soon as he was back people were already coming over. by eleven the night was live. luckily, there would be no noise complaints by neighbors as tommy’s friend lived on green lake where houses were spread far apart and the backyards faced one big, open lake. when j.j.’s parents would go out of town, this is where tommy would spend most of his time–even sleeping over on multiple school nights.
12: 55 am
tommy was upstairs in what seemed like his friend’s parent’s study room, but to him it was just a blur of furniture and books–books he had been using to cut up lines and roll blunts to smoke. he had already been taking shots of bacardi all throughout the day and was pretty drunk. sitting on the burgundy leather swivel chair, tommy did a couple lines to wake himself up a bit. the reason tommy wasn’t downstairs with his friends was because he was separating coke rocks to sell to the couple of guys sitting in front of him. as he did this, a blunt was sitting right between his teeth–he’d take puffs of it and pass it over back to the boys. “a’right.” he holds up the small plastic baggy with black smiley faces all over it and flicks it with his right hand, tossing it over to the guy on the right who’d tucked two-hundred dollars underneath the book laying on the desk. they thanked him with a quick handshake and made their way out the door.
he ran his fingers through his messy dark locks, taking in a deep breath to collect himself–feeling the inhibitors coarse through him. he had been clean off xanax for the past few days and was trying not to touch the bag in his backpack that was filled with them. in fact, he didn’t even bring his bag out of his car for that very reason. if anyone needed any he’d take them to the driveway, but having them on his person was dangerous especially if he was already fucked up. tommy got up and walked out of the room with a bit of a stumble but feeling less drunk then he did prior to his way up the stairs. seeing a couple girls standing at the foot of the bathroom door, he nods at them with a smirk and they return him with a friendly waves. he had no interest in mingling with them at the moment though, he was on his way downstairs to play poker with his boys in the dining room–which was already filling up with an audience. it was sort of a party tradition at this point. they’d all get drunk and gamble at some point during the night.
“tommy get your ass in here we’re starting”
“nah, fuck that fool”--followed by a laugh.
“tommys got too much luck”
the dark-haired boy would enter the room with another stumble, seeing a red solo cup sitting on a side table of the dining room which he’d promptly hold up and take a shot out of. a quiet “hey that was mine” came from a girl watching from the sidelines, but tommy couldn’t hear it–instead, he tossed it on the ground and took his place at the circular, wooden table.
“lets get it.” tommy slurred with a grin on his face, his eyes low to the cards that were passed over to him–looking them over and burrowing his eyebrows jokingly. now, part of the tradition was a shot of hard liquor after every big play–this is what made the game that much more difficult. however, for tommy he felt like he was on fire playing inebriated. and usually, he’d figure out some way to win. some of the guys hated playing with him for this exact reason.
12: 55 am
tommy was upstairs in what seemed like his friend’s parent’s study room, but to him it was just a blur of furniture and books–books he had been using to cut up lines and roll blunts to smoke. he had already been taking shots of bacardi all throughout the day and was pretty drunk. sitting on the burgundy leather swivel chair, tommy did a couple lines to wake himself up a bit. the reason tommy wasn’t downstairs with his friends was because he was separating coke rocks to sell to the couple of guys sitting in front of him. as he did this, a blunt was sitting right between his teeth–he’d take puffs of it and pass it over back to the boys. “a’right.” he holds up the small plastic baggy with black smiley faces all over it and flicks it with his right hand, tossing it over to the guy on the right who’d tucked two-hundred dollars underneath the book laying on the desk. they thanked him with a quick handshake and made their way out the door.
he ran his fingers through his messy dark locks, taking in a deep breath to collect himself–feeling the inhibitors coarse through him. he had been clean off xanax for the past few days and was trying not to touch the bag in his backpack that was filled with them. in fact, he didn’t even bring his bag out of his car for that very reason. if anyone needed any he’d take them to the driveway, but having them on his person was dangerous especially if he was already fucked up. tommy got up and walked out of the room with a bit of a stumble but feeling less drunk then he did prior to his way up the stairs. seeing a couple girls standing at the foot of the bathroom door, he nods at them with a smirk and they return him with a friendly waves. he had no interest in mingling with them at the moment though, he was on his way downstairs to play poker with his boys in the dining room–which was already filling up with an audience. it was sort of a party tradition at this point. they’d all get drunk and gamble at some point during the night.
“tommy get your ass in here we’re starting”
“nah, fuck that fool”--followed by a laugh.
“tommys got too much luck”
the dark-haired boy would enter the room with another stumble, seeing a red solo cup sitting on a side table of the dining room which he’d promptly hold up and take a shot out of. a quiet “hey that was mine” came from a girl watching from the sidelines, but tommy couldn’t hear it–instead, he tossed it on the ground and took his place at the circular, wooden table.
“lets get it.” tommy slurred with a grin on his face, his eyes low to the cards that were passed over to him–looking them over and burrowing his eyebrows jokingly. now, part of the tradition was a shot of hard liquor after every big play–this is what made the game that much more difficult. however, for tommy he felt like he was on fire playing inebriated. and usually, he’d figure out some way to win. some of the guys hated playing with him for this exact reason.