Stop...It's Ronson Time (Part 1)
Title: Stop..It's Ronson TIme (Part 1)
Author: xjekkix
Word Count: 837
Summary: Lindsay brings her boyfriend to Samantha's birthday party. They say you should dance with the one who brought you, but the birthday girl is so much more appealing.
Rating: Adult (for some language)
Disclaimer: This is not real.
She looks at herself in the mirror, tugging at the neckline of her dress. “What do you think, baby?” she says, looking over her shoulder.
“You look good,” he replies, with a passing glance as he ties his Timbalands.
“Good? That’s all,” she says, returning her focus to her own mirror image. She fakes a pouty face. “Do you think I should wear the black dress instead?”
“You look great in that one. It’s a birthday party - not a red carpet, babe,” he answers, sounding undeniably annoyed.
“I’ll wear the black dress,” she says, rummaging through the hotel room closet. He laughs and leaves the room as she begins to undress.
Continuing to stare at herself in the mirror, she adjusts her undergarments and spins around, sighing at what she believes to be an imperfect figure. So focused on herself, she doesn’t hear her boyfriend re-enter the room. She is startled when he wraps his arms around her bare waist. He kisses her shoulder gently and his hands venture further south.
“We’re going to be late and I’m not even dressed,” she says, ignoring his advances.
“It’s called fashionably late, and I can make it worth your while,” he whispers in her ear and starts to slide her panties down her thighs. She pushes him away and makes a beeline for the washroom, leaving him standing dumbfounded.
It’s almost an hour later when she walks into the hotel room kitchen, dressed to the nines in a form-fitting black Gucci dress.
“Cal, where are you?” she shouts, clasping hoop earrings into her freckled lobes. She hears the hum of voices on the TV and walks into the living room to find him lying on the couch with three empty Corona bottles at his side. “Are you drunk? Let’s fucking go,” she says, picking up the empties and carrying them into the kitchen.
He follows her and pushes her up against the fridge, their faces almost touching. The strong aroma of alcohol is heavy in the air. “You’re so sexy,” he says, slurring his words. “Let’s just stay home and make love, baby. I don’t even know anybody going tonight.” He kisses her longingly, pressing his pelvis into hers. She kisses him back gently and wiggles out of his grasp.
“But I do. Now let’s go. And you’re not driving,” she says, retrieving a set of keys from his jean pockets.
By the time they reach the party venue, Calum is almost asleep. His head bobs in the passenger seat and Lindsay fidgets with her outfit nervously. “Hey sleeping beauty, we’re here!” she yells in his ear and squeezes his hand as she leaves the car. She hands the Viper’s keys to the valet and grabs her handbag from the backseat. “Give him a minute to wipe the sleep from his eyes and then drag his ass outta the car,” she says, smiling smugly.
Waiting in line, she continues to fidget, becoming gradually more anxious as the moments pass. “Can I get your name please?” says an immense man wearing an all black suit and an earpiece.
“Lindsay Lohan,” she says, feeling eager to be let inside. The muscular man holds his earpiece, waiting for a response when a firm hand finds her lower back. A weary-eyed Calum places his arm around her possessively and nods towards the security guard.
After what feels like forever, the man steps aside to let the two in to the smoky, music-filled party room. Calum takes Lindsay’s hand and trails behind her as she makes her way through the crowds of people. She feels a tug on her hand and stops as Calum comes closer. “Whose birthday is it again?” he asks, sounding bored.
“Samantha, she’s a DJ, and she sings too,” Lindsay replies, still searching the room for the lady of the night. “Her twin sister’s a designer.” Calum rolls his eyes and takes back his hand, heading towards the bar.
Lindsay stands on the tips of her toes, trying to see above the crowd. She sees thousands of people she doesn’t really know and very few that she does. Getting discouraged, she sighs and slouches her shoulders.
A hand lands on her shoulder, but she doesn’t turn around, assuming that it’s Calum. “Go buy me a drink,” she says loudly, and continues scouring the crowd for a white fedora.
“I thought guests were supposed to buy ME drinks, but I guess you’re an exception,” says a raspy but feminine voice behind her. Lindsay spins around and finds herself face to face with her bleach-blonde, fedora-wearing DJ companion, Samantha Ronson.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was you,” Lindsay says embarrassed, and pulls in for an extra long hug. “Happy birthday!” Samantha smiles and mouths a thank you as Lindsay pulls from the hug, her hands holding onto Samantha’s.
“You look great,” Samantha says, looking into her eyes. Lindsay blushes and pulls a small box from her pocket, and places it in Samantha’s hand, closing her long fingers around it.