Stop...It's Ronson Time (Part 2)
Title: Stop..It's Ronson TIme (Part 2)
Author: xjekkix
Word Count: 784
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.
“Open it later. For now, let’s dance!” Lindsay yells, giggling and starting to get her groove on. Samantha tries not to laugh, and immediately stops when a tall, dashing figure appears behind the redhead. He flashes a mega-watt smile and drapes his arm dominantly around Lindsay’s shoulders after handing her a large martini glass. “Here you go, babe. I thought I’d get you something since I was at the bar anyway.” He kisses her on the ear and looks to Samantha.
“Uh, Calum, this is Samantha. Samantha, my…Calum,” Lindsay says, slightly stuttering and then takes a large sip of her drink.
“Sammy, nice to meet you,” says Calum, offering his bulky hand to the tiny DJ. Samantha shakes his hand and smiles politely all the while watching Lindsay’s uneasy facial expressions.
The three stand in awkward silence until a large, greek-looking male model approaches and bear hugs Calum. Without even a word, they walk off together, and back to the bar. Lindsay sighs, both of relief and annoyance. “I’m so sorry, Samantha. He’s a little drunk,” Lindsay says, placing her hand on the girl’s forearm.
“You hate martinis,” Samantha says, looking at the glass in Lindsay’s hand, and back to her face with a serious expression.
“Yeah, I do,” says Lindsay, looking down at her own glass before setting the near full beverage on a nearby table. She smiles at Samantha before heading to the bar to buy the birthday girl a drink, and herself something a little more Lohan.
After pushing through a crowd of rowdy dancers, she finally finds her way to the bar. She orders Samantha a jack and coke, and waits for the bartender to return before she places her own order. Behind her, she can hear someone yelling her name. When she turns around, she sees Calum, drunk and disorderly with his male-model pal who isn’t much more sober. She shakes her head and looks around to see Samantha standing right where she left her, talking closely with her twin sister.
Lindsay taps her fingertips on the counter impatiently, anxious to get back to Samantha and wish her sister Charlotte a happy birthday.
Finally the bartender returns with the drink and is gone again just as quickly. Lindsay decides to forget her own, thinking that being close to Samantha makes her feel more intoxicated than any drink she could buy.
She turns around, glass in hand, but doesn’t see Samantha or her sister anywhere. Her shoulders slouch in disappointment as she takes a sip from the tiny red straw. She sputters a little, not fond of the whiskey taste.
On a mission, Lindsay climbs a flight of stairs to better survey the room. Someone knocks her elbow and spills some of Samantha’s drink on her dress and she huffs at them, angrier that she can’t seem to spot her friend in the crowd. She turns around to where the DJ booth is, wondering if Samantha could be spinning on her own birthday but instead finds a longhaired man she’s never seen before. Walking towards him, she is determined to find someone to point her in the right direction.
Another person bumps her, knocking the red straw from the cup and onto the ground. She throws her free arm into the air with frustration as she comes to the realization there may not be much of a drink left by the time she reaches Samantha’s side. Hopefully the thought will count for so much more.
She looks up at the offending figure, a tall, dark and handsome man - Mark Ronson. He smiles politely, having only met her once or twice before. Lindsay reaches out to shake his hand, and inquires about the whereabouts of his tomboyish younger sister. He nods, and points to a comfy couch area in the corner of the upper lounge.
Lindsay looks over her shoulder in his pointed direction and sees Samantha smiling and laughing with friends, a mysterious brunette woman’s hand placed comfortably on her upper-thigh as the group makes a toast to the birthday twins.
Her heart stops for a moment in disappointment. She feels a strange sensation in her throat, the one she feels every time she is about to cry. Looking down at the half-empty glass in her hand, she takes a deep breath in and blinks to fight threatening tears.
She walks over to the lounge area determinedly, unnoticed until she slams the drink onto the table. As if in slow motion, more liquid sloshes back and forth before spilling on the floor and Samantha’s black jeans.
“Happy birthday,” Lindsay says, quietly, as tears fight at her eyelids once again. Samantha watches, helpless, as she turns and storms down the stairs.