Everything I Don't Deserve/Post Malone

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"Austin can you focus for 3 seconds while I try to fix this? Fuck!" I hissed between my teeth. I had a sewing needle clinched between them and I was desperately trying to keep him still so I could fix this stupid pocket. "I do not want to be on the receiving end of his tirade when Jay comes back here looking for you. You are already running late!!"

He was completely trashed. I honestly have no clue how he keeps his shit together on stage when he's like this, hell sometimes he doesn't. If he were to ask me right now, I would tell him the fucking truth. I don't stay to watch his shows because he's like this most of the time. I would rather not see the train wreck happen. I've seen the talk online after some of the shows where I know he's as wasted as he is tonight, and it's never pretty. If he continues to put on this shitshow every night, I'll be out of a job because he will be out of a job.

I have no fucking clue how he managed to rip the pocket off these damn shorts not 15 minutes after he put them on. If it wasn't for the fact that I spent over 10 hours painstakingly hand beading these stupid leopard print spots on them I would have just made him change. I worked so goddamn hard on these after he dreamed them up and now they are fucking ruined. I felt tears spring to my eyes but my rage kept them at bay for the moment. It feels so fucking disrespectful when he does shit like this, even if it was an accident, whatever happened probably could have been avoided if he would keep that fucking bottle away from his lips and his goddamn nose clean. His constant fidgeting, bouncing, sniffing and pawing at his nose gives his ass away every time. I know he tries to hide the drugs from me, I don't know why he tries to hide it from me, but he should know by now I'm not stupid and know every single one of his tells.

He gripped his nose between his thumb and fingers again, pulling and sniffing, wiping at it subconsciously and shifted his weight slightly.

"Don't you fucking dare start bouncing around Austin, please just be still for just another second. I'm almost done I swear.." I grumbled as I quickly whipped stitches through the fabric, hoping like hell I didn't sew my damn hand to the inside of his pocket. Don't ask. It happens.

"Hurry the fuck up Jordan!" He growled and took a step forward to grab the Tito's bottle from the table in front of him. I tried stepping with him but stumbled because I was crouched down behind him.  I grabbed his thigh trying to balance myself which made him stumble because he was definitely not sturdy on his feet right now. I heard the bottle slosh and bang, toppling over and sending vodka flooding across the table and soaking into my purse I had just sat there thinking I was done for the night.

"Goddamn it Austin!!!" I yelled as I tried to stand, grab the bottle, my purse and keep from ripping this stupid pocket the rest of the way off.

He fumbled and snatched the bottle before I could, sitting it upright and turning blood red. He has zero regard for anyone else's things or anyone else's feelings. I had saved for fucking YEARS for that bag, and fuck yes it was a damn Berkin. It was the first big "stupid" purchase I made when I started actually making real money doing this job. It had taken me almost 3 years of working for him to squirrel away the money, I had finally bought it for myself for my birthday last year and I won't lie, I wouldn't have it if it wasn't for Cathy and Austin already having relationships with Hermes associates who found the exact bag I was looking for. It was used, but in perfect condition and how I got it for the price I did I'll never know, but I'm sure as hell not going to ask. Of course it was a gorgeous soft brown suede, and of course it was currently soaking up copious amounts of booze. I felt like I was going to vomit. Some people want to spend money on cars, I have a thing for bags and shoes. And this was my dream purchase, ruined.

I let go of his leg and his pants and jumped up grabbing the already dripping bag and rushing into the bathroom with it trying my damndest to dry it off as much as possible even though I knew it was ruined. I fucking hate him. God I fucking hate him.