Categories > Movies > Breakfast Club > Of Big Shots and Bohemians

Prologue II: Stranded in SoHo

by Sweet_Sadie 0 reviews

We meet the girl in Andy's picture and how her life has changed...

Category: Breakfast Club - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama, Romance - Published: 2007-01-07 - Updated: 2007-01-07 - 1362 words

It was nearly 10AM when the girl in Andy's picture rolled out of her own bed and onto the floor of her SoHo loft apartment. The floor, despite being coated with puke-colored shag carpeting, seemed cold and hard. The girl had also changed physically from the picture Andy kept in his desk. She was slightly taller (still on the short side, however), a bit frailer, and her hair was longer. She was also paler (from the lack of vitamin-enriched food). She wore a black wifebeater over a pair of purple flannel pajama pants. She looked up at her alarm clock. Damn thing didn't go off again!

Oh well, it's not like she had anywhere to be. Besides, the clock was still on. That means the electricity wasn't shut off yet. Good. Another day with light. Especially when it was so cloudy. She got up on her feet and hurled her afghan onto the small bed she slept on. After taking a piss, she wandered into the living room/kitchenette area. The loft was small, and expensive, but she didn't have a car to get out of the City in, let alone money for airfare. She was basically stranded in SoHo. After not hearing from her boyfriend in Shermer for over a year, she just packed her bags and hitchhiked her way to NYC. She had a meager job as a once-a-week art teacher at a Rec Center out in the Bronx, but that didn't pay a lot. Luckily for her, she had two roommates who had somewhat better jobs and were more than willing to help financially.

The girl she lived with was Helene Dupont. Helene was a rebellious Belgian schoolgirl who came to the City as a foreign exchange student in high school and ended up never going home, gaining a green card and eventually, citizenship. Helene's accent still had traces of French, but she was as good as a native English speaker. Helene wrote poetry and songs when she wasn't working at a record store two blocks over. Physically, she was average. Not too tall, she had jet black hair and ash skin. Her hair was cropped short and she had dyed the tips a light purple. She was a curvy girl with wide hips and short legs. She lived in her lime green Chuck Taylor's.

The boy living with her was Aaron Baranowski. Aaron was gay, but not a flamboyant, happy-go-lucky man. Aaron always wore purple turtlenecks; his light brown hair was cut oddly, like Andy Warhol's. Aaron had a heart of gold, but he was very vulnerable. His parents abandoned him at his Aunt Midge's house. His Aunt Midge forced her nephew into child slavery until his friend caught him and had him sent to a foster home. He was very untrusting of everyone expect his two roommates. He loved the two of them like sisters. Aaron also had a boyfriend, Gregg, but Gregg was killed as a result of a hate crime three years ago. Since, Aaron kept himself cooped up in the loft except for a few occasions when he would go for a walk in Central Park, in which case he'd be out for 12 hours at a time. Aaron was an author, and he had a book published called "The Bohemian Way: A Guide To Finding Your Inner Artist." While the book flopped at the national level, in the City many hundreds of copies were sold every day, and the local profits never stopped coming. That was Aaron's contribution to the trio.

When she arrived into the living room, both roommates were already on the old, ratty sectional sofa. The TV wasn't on. They just sat; they're heads looking at the carpeting. Helene looked up and saw her walk in. Helene stood up and tossed a piece of paper at her.

"Look at this, Allison!" said Helene. Allison skimmed the paper and growled. Why now?

"An eviction notice..." she muttered.

"Aaron's latest check got lost in the mail! They want the rent in 3 weeks or else we're getting kicked out!" said Helene. Allison scowled. A lot of people in SoHo seemed to be losing their homes ever since the landlords started getting maliciously greedy. She noted how it always seemed to be artists and poverty-stricken people getting evicted. Now they were going to be next if they didn't act quickly.

"Can you get more hours at the record store?" asked Aaron. Allison began pacing the floor with the eviction notice in her grips. The paper slowly crumbled under her hands.

"No, they already had to lay off Max and Roddy! I'm just lucky I managed to hang on to my job!"

"What about you, Allison? Can you find more hours at the Rec Center?" asked Aaron.

"They only offer one class, and no one seems to be interested," Allison replied. She only taught 7 people how to draw still-lives of fruit baskets. Meanwhile, Allison had several pieces of paintings and sketches she had ready to sell when worst came to worst. But she didn't know who the hell would want them. "I could sell a drawing or two," she offered.

"I'm going to the damn post office, see where the hell my money went to," said Aaron. He began huffing, but then he calmed down a small bit. Allison continued pacing, reading and re-reading the eviction letter.

"I'm sure there's some way out of this," said Helene. "Christ, heat was expensive this winter, we can barely afford to feed ourselves! What're we gonna do if we get kicked out? Move to Jersey? Three weeks to pay the fucking rent! We should just pack our bags now, folks!"

"Helene, apartments are much cheaper in Connecticut, we could get something there across the river and we'd still be able to go to our jobs in the City," suggested Aaron, rubbing a Yin-Yang pendent he wore around his neck.

"No good. We'd need a car, the buses don't go that far out. We can't even afford a junk bucket that'd hold three of us!" said Helene. Allison suddenly gasped as she saw a loophole in the eviction notice.

"Guys! We have to sign for the notice!" said Allison excitedly.

"So? We're doomed, it doesn't matter who has the worst signature!" said Aaron. Allison shook her head and pulled a lighter out of her pocket (for candles, not drugs).

"We never saw this eviction notice! It...blew away in the wind!" she declared, as she flicked on the lighter. A small orange flame grazed the edge of the paper, then suddenly grew as the paper was consumed. The two roommates smiled, then grinned, as Allison let go of the burning paper and it floated to the carpet. Allison then stepped on the flaming carpet before it grew. Only a small pile of crumb and carbon lay on the carpet now.

"Three weeks from now, we can say we never saw it. That'll buy us more time because then they'd have to give us three more weeks!" said Allison, proud of her idea. Aaron jumped up and swung Allison off her feet in a sudden burst of jubilance.

"Way to go, Mouse!" he hollered happily. "Mouse" was Allison's nickname because she was so petite. Helene laughed.

"You're a genius!" she said. Allison smiled.

"I knew that!" she said sarcastically. The three bohemians celebrated with a round of the cognac Aaron stashed in the cupboard for rare occasions.
At 3, Allison decided to go find a grocery store and to bring home a pack of soy burgers (all three of them were vegetarians) for a treat for dinner. She sighed and walked out onto the road. Allison may have been dirt poor, but she lived with her two best friends in the world, and had a life full of color and excitement. Every day was a race for survival for her and her roommates. No two days were ever exactly the same.
It was for the best that her old sport-o boyfriend forgot about her. It was just as well, he probably still lived in Shermer, coaching the basketball team or some meaningless job.

Allison's life could not have been any more satisfying.
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