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chapter song lynyrd skynyrd: that smell "one little problem that confronts you / got a monkey on your back / just one more fix lord, might do the trick / one hell of a price for you to get your kicks"
1983
The show was fucking fantastic. Brazil was by far the craziest crowd The Sycophants had seen yet and it left El with an overwhelming sense of pride as she ran off the stage and tossed her bass to her tech, Jackoff. His name was Jackson, but she thought his name was stupid, so she of course dubbed him a lovely nickname that has stuck ever since. Ezra immediately took off to the dressing room which caused the rest of the band to roll their eyes.
"He's gonna ruin us if he doesn't get a grip," Jude sighed.
"I've tried to talk to him. He doesn't wanna hear shit from me," El replied. She felt helpless, sad, and mostly pissed off that Ezra was so caught up in his addiction. Of course, his stubborn ass didn't want to admit he had an addiction in the first place. He was so willing to ship her off to rehab and she wondered if she should do the same thing and give him a taste of his own medicine. It would serve the prick right after all.
Del headed to the dressing room to change out of her sticky leather while El was caught up in a conversation with Vera and Jude was probably off in a backroom with his head buried between some girl's legs. El headed to the dressing room and just as she was about to open the door, Del quickly hurried out and slammed the door behind her, stopping El short.
"Do not go in there," Del pleaded.
El scrunched up her face in confusion. "Why? What's he done now?"
"El, seriously don't." Del wouldn't move from the doorway.
"Dude, fuck off," El laughed in irritation and pushed past her. Upon opening the door, she froze in her spot as the one person she would literally rather die than see again stood before her.
"Long time, no see, baby," he turned and presented her with that ever so charming smile.
"Cato," she was breathless.
"Miss me?" He grinned.
-
1978
El was positive her brain was bouncing around in the inside of her skull with how loud the music was. She waltzed her way through The Whisky and was searching for that fucker who had what she was so desperately after. He told her to meet him here, so where the fuck-
"Looking for me?" Bingo.
El turned to face him and a sly grin graced her face. "Always."
He pulled her into the bathroom and roughly grabbed her face to give her a searing kiss. "Let's get this party started." His smile was sickening. "You're coming with me."
-
She didn't know these people and she had no clue where in the blue fuck she was, but she was too drunk to care. Well. Almost too drunk to care. She needed one last push to feel truly past the point of giving a damn about anything.
"Cato, baby," she kissed his neck.
"You just can't be patient, can you?" He laughed.
"Baby, come on. I need it," she whined. She was desperate. She was aching.
"The wait is the best part."
"Speak for your fucking self," El slurred, "I need a line."
"Fine, as you wish." He leaned down to cut her up some lines and she felt an excited chill trickle down her spine. Her mouth was watering.
El rolled up a dollar bill and leaned down to snort the four lines laid out in front of her. Finally, she thought. Then, the magic happened. Her face was tingling and she could feel her heartbeat in all of her limbs. She immediately felt above all the people in this room and nobody could tell her a goddamn thing because she knew she was better than them. Her nose was burning and a bit of blood covered her fingers when she went to rub it. Her eyes flashed up to Cato's and he smirked a little.
"Too much?" He asked.
"Never enough." Her grin was sinister. The party had officially started.
-
1983
Joseph Cato was a good for nothing piece of shit who had never offered the world a goddamn thing as far as El was concerned, so what the fuck was he doing in her dressing room? In Brazil? Offering up lines of coke to her fucking brother on a silver plater? The only thing he had ever done for her was cause her trouble and a fun ride on the wave of death.
"Come on, baby, you don't got something nice to say?" El could kill him. Actually, she was going to kill him.
"Don't fucking call me that," she seethed.
"Why so harsh?" He frowned teasingly.
"Why the fuck are you here?"
"Your dear brother needed a hookup and your buddy up in LA called me to see it through," he replied.
"What 'buddy'?" She scoffed.
"Doug," he bit his lip. "He's become quite the connection for me and my bank account."
El was furious that Doug had contacted Cato about supplying drugs for Ezra. Obviously, he wasn't aware of the history, but she didn't care. She wanted him the fuck out of here and away from her. "You need to leave."
"El, could you stop being a cunt for five minutes and chill out?" Ezra groaned as he paced around the room. His eyes were wide and his blood vessels were slowly bursting around his irises. "Have a fucking line and take the stick out your ass."
"How dare you?" El was taken aback. "You know what, Ezra? Go fuck yourself. If this is who you want to spend your time with, then by all means, go ahead. I'm out of here." She turned to leave.
"Yeah, yeah," Ezra slurred, "do what you always do and run away from your problems like the scared little girl you are."
El stopped in her tracks but didn't turn to confront him. She felt the tears in her eyes and she looked to the ceiling because she was certain if she made eye contact with Del or Vera, her tear ducts would have a free for all. She missed the days when her brother was her best friend. When he was kind and would give her the clothes off his back if she needed them. Mass amounts of money and a broken heart cause nothing but problems, and she was afraid that this was a problem that couldn't be fixed.
El shook her head and scoffed before exiting the room and heading directly for the bus. She needed to breathe. She wanted to go home. She needed to ground herself before she did something stupid. But most of all, she just wanted Nikki.
-
a/n: o shit y'all. let me know what you think about ezra having cato around
