holy mountains, OPEN

[radha bancroft]

"can you feel
their haunting presence?"

Home, home, home. As far as she cared to account for the word, it was a disheveled mass of an apartment on the other side of the city, nestled between other cheap spots, some of them belonged to people that she worked with, all of them cozy little dwellings. She could have lived anywhere, as was acknowledged by the fact that she honestly had been shuffled around a lot in her childhood and upbringing; but the delicate and carved in molding that sculpted the ceilings of each room in her apartment were what she enjoyed, even if all of her haphazard possessions ruined the ambience that the old-world design presented. It was a clash of everything that she liked and that was who she was, a mish-mash of the weird, mainstream, and contemporary all alike. She did find herself gravitating towards the oddities in life but she wouldn’t deny that she enjoyed just as much the things that everyone else did. That was why there were popular after all, because they could be liked equally by the masses. Radha longed now to slip out of her shoes and tights, walk around in a t-shirt and settle finally on the couch, fall asleep just there, hair a mess just as it was during the day. Friday night should have meant a night out, sitting at a bar and hoping to find a familiar face to confide a certain comfort in. She went without that night, though the night was still young considering how late she stayed up.

In her current situation, Radha was seated leisurely at a little open-all-night bistro, a table to herself with one foot up on the dented metal surface, sipping some coffee, a cigarette perched perfectly between two long fingers. Across the street and down a ways she was waiting for the call that would relieve her from her position; it was a little after eleven and an urgent call had dribbled down the professional rankings to the people who would run errands; she was free, in a manner of speaking, and was so directed to walk down to the shopping district and collect a few cases of fabrics and other nonsense that she didn’t give a shit about that was needed for tomorrow morning. She could leave for the night after she had done this task so she didn’t think it all that much of a trouble, despite it being half of her job to run errands. How the other girls walked around in their heels running similar errands all day long was beyond her; the farthest that she went were heeled combat boots. Otherwise she was content with wearing sneakers whenever she was working, and when she wasn’t. Pointy dangerous heels were not in her wardrobe.

Initially she had thought that it would take at most a half an hour to wait for the shit to be ready and she was prepared to have a long smoke and wait outside of the shop, as it was after closing time and she didn’t want to walk into a desolate room save for another one or two people. She was content with waiting outside. However, it turned out that she had to wait longer, explained to her in rapid French that she didn’t completely understand. So she just nodded along, containing her impatience to a subtle few gestures, gave the person there her number, and told him to call her when he was ready. Radha crossed the wide lit street and took her seat, and there she had been for a little over forty-five minutes, had smoked a cigarette one and was on her second now, along with a refill of coffee. There was potential for many more of both depending on how long she was going to be sitting around. Sighing, Radha tossed her hair back and slouched lower in her chair, slowly losing all feeling in her lower back from sitting in one attitude for so long. But she lacked the energetic willpower to change position. Smoke filtered through her lips and her nostrils and she watched the hazy clouds disappear in the air, gazing down the sidewalk lined with lights, people walking by, couples holding hands. It was nice, she supposed, a nice atmosphere, but she was still working so she could not completely immerse herself in the relaxation.

clothesclick

[viktor mishavich]

"Fuck!" Viktor's obnoxious roar echoed through the narrow street. "My fucking head. Make your taxi exits taller because I'm short and my head hit." Midnight hadn't even come and the boy was already shit faced out of his mind. What happened? Why was he already going home this early in the night? He couldn't recall a single thing.

So what really did happen? Bored of the same old Moulin Rouge, Vik decided it would be a good idea to try that new bar he'd heard so much of Facile Marina, or whatever it was called. Only problem was he had no cash in hand, but he'd already devised a fool-proof solution. What he would do is challenge anyone in the bar to a shot taking competition. Able to drink vodka like a fish, he was confident that he would outdrink any competitor. The prize for drinking more? The loser would have to pay for both parties drinks.

Dressing as absurdly as possible, Vik headed off to the bar to win some free booze. Without any hesitation, he immediately began to start up conversations with strangers in an attempt to convince them to take the bait. Most simply gave him strange looks like he was completely out of his mind though. He was about to give up and just flirt with the bartender to possibly give him so alcohol when he spotted a man much older than every one else there. Just by the look in his eyes, Vik could tell this guy was a bar veteran, probably one of the worst drunks in Paris. "Hey, old man. Think you can drink more than me? I'll pay for your drinks if you do. Seriously!" He mumbled to the poor guy who was probably in a similar financial situation. After nearly five minutes of explaining the nature of the game, Jean (the old man's name), agreed to the bet.

So the game began. The first three shots went down in a matter of a minute. The only weakness Vik showed was a single wince after the third shot, the old man on the other hand looked unfazed. Ten shots later and Jean admitted defeat. Feeling the need to be an immodest dick, Vik downed three more shots to finish off with a total of sixteen. "What now? Maybe if you were Russian you would have stood a chance old man." His smug face was only inches away from Jean's now. What he was trying to explain was how he was Russian and so he naturally loved vodka, but was already too inebriated to form a coherent sentence. After that everything went black.

Waking up in the back of a smelly taxi he rubbed his cheek which felt much puffier than normal. The cab driver went on to explain that some other drunk knocked him out because he was mad at Vik for being disrespectful or some crap. "Damn. I'm a fucking badass." He really just didn't get it. This was one of those moments in which he really needed a mother. It wasn't that he didn't have one, but the woman wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy nor was she much of a motherly-figure in his life. He didn't have anyone to really turn to at all. "Oh, I don't have money, but I'll pay you back- I promise." The car came to a grinding halt, and Vik had to find another way to get home. His leaving the taxi cab caused him to slam his forehead on the door. "Fuck! My fucking head. . ."

Maybe if he just stumbled aimlessly down the street he'd magically find the hotel he'd been staying in. At least that was what his drunk logic told him to do. Without getting more than ten feet away from the car, he crashed into the pavement. "Oww, he moaned. His hands were no all cut up, he ripped his jeans at the knees, and he was lost. It was now official, this was the worst night ever.

As he wandered through the street he browsed through the contact list on his phone, but there were no names of any one who would care enough to pick him up. Glancing up he caught a figure sitting down. Maybe this other loner would feel sympathetic and give him a ride home. His chances of being well-received were slim to none, but it couldn't hurt to try. "Hello kind person! My name is Viktor, and-" he paused for a moment when he realized who he was actually speaking to. "Oh my God!" He exclaimed, "I never thought I'd be so happy to see you as I am now. Hey hot mama, what you doing all by yourself on a Friday night? Give your b-f-f a hug!" Apparently Vik now had a best friend (forever), and it was Radha out of all people?

OUTFIT click

[radha bancroft]

She coughed a wet hacking sound and sat up, lowering her feet back down to the cement with a loud thud, the metal table clanging in disagreement with her sudden change in stature. Radha cleared her throat, not allowing the cough to hinder her smoking and took another long drag, followed by a long drink of coffee. The two together was nice, a loose end to tie up at the end of the day. Coffee didn’t work so much to keep her awake as much as it did to keep her hands busy and to keep her from getting more aggravated then she was simply by nature. There was always something annoying her no matter what she was doing or where she was; complaining came like second nature to talking, one tied to the other. She had so many things to choose from too: her job, a personal favorite when there was someone’s ear close that she could chew off with sarcastic pessimistic comments that probably were of no consequence to producing an actual result, her lack in the ability to keep her paychecks for long, her clusterfuck of a love life… oh, the list went on and on in an unfolding form. Radha added to it all year long like it was a Christmas list.

Running two fingers around the rim of her cup, Radha looked up suddenly when she heard someone yell from the street. Her eyes searched in the darker area of the avenue and settled finally on a taxi that was making its exit from an apparently unwelcome patron. She was half-grinning at the incident that she had witnessed, some drunk asshole getting his come-uppance for getting shitfaced and losing control of himself. It was priceless, a situation that every person had to have gone through at least once in their young adult life, including Radha. But she much preferred to walk home when she was feeling that drunk, clinging to random trees and posts like they were people to lean on and confide in. A snorting laugh escaped her lips. And then her smirk came to a similar grinding screeching halt as the vehicle before her, when she realized who exactly it was who was eating the pavement just now. “Oh dear sweet Jesus,” she muttered painfully to herself, turning her face away from the now-familiar prick on the sidewalk, letting a mop of ratty hair cover her cheek that she might go unnoticed by him. She didn’t need his shit tonight, though she could try to hide behind the excuse that she was ‘working’. But when had she ever put that before anything else? Fuck. She didn’t even have a real excuse if he toppled over in her direction.

She was still clinging desperately to the hope that he was talking to someone close to her but not her. That was easily crushed by the fact that there was no one sitting next to her; all of the tables were empty. “Fuck,” she groaned in a low mumble as he recognized her. She snorted and hacked up a cough of smoke at the way that he addressed her, not surprised as much as taken aback in an odd sort of way. She was used to the eccentricities but maybe she had been unused to being sociable outside of work as much as she should have been. Radha waved lazily towards Vik and smiled in a way that probably looked painful, reading as a blatant ‘what the fuck do you want?’ in her eyes. “Someone really should keep you on a leash,” she commented, narrowing her eyes as though examining him but not getting up to help him as he stumbled down the sidewalk. “Or at least buy yourself a padded helmet.” Sighing heavily and stubbing her cigarette out on the bottom of her shoe, Radha got up and walked over to the guy, touching his cheek gingerly and raising on eyebrow, “Somebody hit you? What the fuck, man, it’s not even midnight yet. Can’t you make an effort to space out your catastrophes?” She really felt as though she was dealing with a child. And Radha hated little kids; they were too noisy and energetic and they didn’t listen.