Categories > Movies > Breakfast Club > Of Big Shots and Bohemians
The next morning, Andy got up literally at the crack of dawn to sneak out before any of the others awoke. He and Allison had been snapping at each other and it was best to pretend yesterday didn't happen. He quickly slipped on his shoes and grabbed his bag and headed for the door. He opened it to find Allison standing in the doorway with a small drugstore bag in her arm. She still wore her pajamas, yet she'd been out to the store. She smiled evilly. Andy noticed she had a small tattoo on her arm, but he couldn't tell what it was right away.
"Busted. You're not getting away that easily!" she said, grinning. Andy sighed. He realized how much he missed that grin.
"Sorry. Things last night were...um..."
"Hostile? Yeah, I guess we didn't hit it off very well. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought you home," Allison moaned walking in the door. Andy put his bag down and sat back on the sofa with Allison.
"No, Ally! It's been ten goddamn years, you can't think we haven't changed at all. Of course things are different now," reasoned Andy. Allison took her small bag and unloaded it slowly. Andy's eyes widened curiously as Allison unloaded 4 bags of M&Ms, 4 Snicker Bars, 2 bags of Raisinettes, and a bottle of cheap tequila (Andy had seen a liquor store next to the drugstore with the logo on Allison's bag). Andy raised his eyebrows at Allison.
"Helene and I have lived together so long, we're in sync, and it happens to be that glorious time of the month!" Allison giggled when Andy blushed and looked down at his feet.
"Aaron must go through hell every 28 days then, right?" he asked nervously. Allison nodded confidently.
"Oh hell yeah! Even for a gay guy he suffers a LOT!" she said. Andy laughed.
"Listen, Ally, I feel bad about yesterday, so do you wanna come over to my apartment for the day?"
"You got food?"
"Yeah."
"I'm in."
Andy smiled. Allison licked her lips and opened a Snicker bar. "May I have a piece?" he asked politely enough. Allison shot him the internationally feared PMS Look of Death, and he withdrew. Allison smiled and nodded as if to say "Wise choice, buster," and consumed the candy bar quickly. She stuffed the rest in a cupboard and told Andy to wait while she showered and dressed. Allison disappeared into the bathroom. Andy looked around the apartment. One small table near the door to the porch had a half dozen or so photos on it. Andy took a look. Each was carelessly framed, but dated and documented well. Andy examined each photo.
Two were of Allison and Helene in Central park imitating the animals (elephants and lionesses in this case) like goofballs. Both were labeled: July 15, 1987. Andy snickered. July 15th, from what he could remember, was Allison's birthday. No, or was it June 15th? Andy forgot which. One had Allison with both Helene and Aaron sitting on a bench. It was a winter setting and they all wore black coats and were showing cross-eyes to the camera. January 27, 1989. One had Aaron, Helene, and Allison shown painting makeup on a brazen statue on the NYU campus. November 1, 1985. One had Helene and Aaron smoking cigarettes and wearing curly blonde wigs, dressed as whores. October 31, 1986. Andy stopped at the last picture, by far in the worst condition. He shook his head in disbelief.
It was the exact same photo Andy hid away in his desk. Andy recalled that Claire (the photographer) had taken two photos of them in the same pose and given one to each of them. After all these years, she'd kept it just like he had. No date was on this photo, and it looked like at one point it had been crumbled. Andy felt horrible. He'd literally skunk bagged Allison. He'd left her for college, promising to keep her in his heart. Once he'd met Vanessa, Allison was gone from his mind, and Andy cast her off like so many people had before. He'd betrayed her trust in him. Yet she kept his picture, and now was being hospitable towards him.
He was so going to hell.
"You ready?" Allison asked. Andy turned around. Allison (still with wet hair) was wearing a loose Def Lepperd tank top and baggy jeans. Andy squinted in on the tattoo again.
"It that real?" asked Andy.
"Oh this?" Allison asked, pointing to the tattoo. "Yeah. I got it a year after being here."
"What IS it?" he asked. It looked like a bunch of scribbles.
"It's an Ohm!"
"Ohm?"
"Symbol of the Hindu faith. I wanted to get a pentacle, but Helene was still Catholic at the time and I didn't want to piss her off." Andy nodded. Didn't people get AIDS from tattoo needles? Andy asked is Allison was aware.
"Yeah. I went to a place in Queens where they use clean disposable needles." Andy nodded. Allison was a smart cookie.
"Good choice, Ally." Allison nodded.
"Well?"
"Well?"
"Well...I can't go to your place without you showing me where it is!" said Allison.
Andy nodded. "Alrighty then!" he said. The duo left the apartment and began heading uptown.
~~~~~
"Talk about snob hill!" said Allison as she and Andy reached the apartment building he lived. It was a huge white building with fancy décor all over. A red carpet led from the main revolving door out to the curb. A doorman in uniform even guarded the door. "Jesus Christ, how do you pay YOUR rent?"
Andy chuckled. "I get by. It helps when you have your own business, I guess."
"Do you really live here, or are we just staying at this hotel for the night?" asked Allison.
"I'm on the 31st floor, two floors below the penthouse. The view is great!" Andy said. "Come on!" They went inside. Allison felt too dirty to be inside. She could see herself in the shiny marble floors. There was a grand staircase leading up to the first residence floor and several elevators. Andy liked how Allison couldn't help but stare.
A woman passed by who looked to be about her mid-fifties. She wore a decently-priced dress and carried a Chihuahua in her arms. Andy knew her as his crabby neighbor Josephina. The dog was Bone-aparte. She stopped and surveyed Allison. Then she tsked at Andy.
"What WILL Vanessa say when she finds out you're hiring prostitutes from Brooklyn?" she sighed woefully at Andy. Allison fumed. The NERVE of this bitch!
"Actually, I'm an exterminator from Queens, and Andy called me on account of your obvious rat infestation!" Allison said, indicating the dog. Andy snorted trying to hold back a laugh. "I have the rat guillotine outside in the van-"
"-Oh for heaven's sake!" and with that Josephina shut up and moved outside.
Andy looked at Allison. "You are DEFINITLEY the Allison I remember!"
"The one and only!" Andy pressed an elevator 'UP' button, and no sooner done than the door opened to reveal a beautifully-mirrored elevator. Andy and Allison stepped inside, and after pressing another button, the elevator whisked the pair up to floor 31. Andy guided Allison down the hallway to apartment 31C. He took out a key and led Allison inside.
Once inside, Allison thought she'd stepped into a parallel universe. The carpeting was beige and so soft one could fall asleep on it. The room wasn't huge, but it was at least twice the size of Allison's living room/kitchenette. Oh, that's another thing. This place had a full-sized kitchen, complete with microwave and oven. She didn't even WANT to see how elegant the bedrooms were. She felt poor enough already.
Andy noticed how Allison seemed intimidated, so he told her to sit down a minute while he got her something for lunch (she hadn't eaten breakfast either, if you didn't count the candy bar). Allison sat on the comfy sofa and wanted to drift off to sleep. But instead, she was intrigued by the neat row of pictures on the coffee table. One had Andy in a blue graduation robe clutching a diploma, in his mother's grip. Another had Andy holding a small golden retriever puppy and smiling. The last few had Andy doing various activities with a tall, anorexic-looking blonde with no body fat and Anna Nicole Smith's makeup style. That must be HER, Allison thought. That must be the anti-Christ he's holding in his arms!
"Excuse me, Miss?" Allison whipped around to see the satanic image come to life before her eyes. "You must have the wrong room. Tony the Pimp's apartment is 21C!" God, why did everyone up here think she's a WHORE?
"I'm an acquaintance of Andy's," said Allison, who didn't want to make waves with this chick as much as she had with the old crabby woman downstairs.
"Oh! Then, well, hello!" The woman's voice suddenly turned so sugary-sweet that Allison could have sworn she felt a cavity forming. The lady offered her hand out to Allison, who shook it halfheartedly. "I'm Vanessa Leigh Rose Lenoir! It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss-"
"-Allison Portia Reynolds," informed Allison. She wasn't aware of why the hell they used middle names uptown.
"I'm Andy's fiancée!"
"Have you set a date yet?" asked Allison casually (meanwhile, she imagined Vanessa's head impaled upon a stake).
"Not as of late, but we're very much in love!" said Vanessa.
"So it would seem..."said Allison, wanting very much to set her on fire.
"Do you live in Manhattan?"
"Down in SoHo."
Vanessa seemed uncomfortable. Allison wondered why...
This girl is pretty, although she hangs her hair in front of her face. Def Lepperd, hmm? Andy once said he liked that band. She's got some meat on her bones, but not a lot, that's a plus for me. She's probably a pauper or a beggar, as befits a girl from SoHo. How the hell does she know Andy? Is she an ex-girlfriend of his? Does he still like her? Why is she here at all and how come I've never heard of her before? was all that Vanessa Lenoir was thinking as of right now.
"So, are you asking for some money?" asked Vanessa, her voice gone again.
"Huh? No, why would I?" asked Allison.
"So you can go out and buy a decent sweater! Honestly, this tank top shows off your man-shoulders! Do you want to be mistaken for a slut?" Vanessa began circling Allison, who turned right around with her.
"Well, god forbid someone ever dip into your G-string's trust fund!" spat Allison. Vanessa stepped back, infuriated.
"I see we have a bohemian mouth on us. Do you paint naked men screwing other men and sell it for peanut money?" asked Vanessa.
"I paint whatever my muse tells me to paint!" said Allison plainly.
"Muse? What is that? Like a pimp?" Vanessa tried to comeback. Allison wondered if "pimp" was the only way Vanessa knew how to insult other girls. Allison smiled and put on her crazy eyes.
"No, a muse is a tiny demon that sits on my shoulder and whispers sweet somethings in my ear." Allison grinned. Vanessa's pale little forehead was beginning to sweat...
"You're Satanic?" Vanessa asked nervously. "Why, what were you thinking?"
"I don't think for myself because His Royal Highness Beelzebub thinks for me! As a Bohemian artist, I am bound to His Highness' service until the end of eternity! Satan commands us to do his bidding, and we obey! That's my muse!" Allison was having quite a bit of fun with this. Vanessa's 20-dollar antiperspirant was failing her miserably.
"Get OUT!" she shouted. "You WHORE! You WITCH! Stop bewitching my fiancé and get out of my HOUSE!" Vanessa screamed.
From in the kitchen, Andy was almost finished making sandwiches when he heard Vanessa's scream. What the hell was going on? Andy rushed out into the living room to find Vanessa crossing herself and muttering a Hail Mary as Allison slammed the front door behind her on her way out.
"Vanessa? What the hell did you do?"
"What I did? She's a child of Satan!! She said so herself!" yelled Vanessa. Andy rolled his eyes.
"For Christ's sake, she's an artist!" Andy ran out the door and into the elevator. Why wasn't Allison in with him? There only was one elevator! That means she took the steps. Andy would wait for her...the steps would take a long time.
Upon reaching the lobby, Andy waited at the base of the stairwell for Allison. 10...20...40...an hour went by. It wouldn't take an hour to go down the stairs. Maybe he'd missed Allison and she got out before he could?
"Damn," he muttered. He needed to apologize to Allison. But for now, he had to go back upstairs and calm his girlfriend down before she had another asthma attack. Andy trudged guiltily back into the elevator and went upstairs.
Meanwhile, Allison sighed and climbed down the final set of stairs under which she was waiting for Andy to leave. Furious, she made her way out the door and caught a bus back to her home in SoHo.
"Busted. You're not getting away that easily!" she said, grinning. Andy sighed. He realized how much he missed that grin.
"Sorry. Things last night were...um..."
"Hostile? Yeah, I guess we didn't hit it off very well. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought you home," Allison moaned walking in the door. Andy put his bag down and sat back on the sofa with Allison.
"No, Ally! It's been ten goddamn years, you can't think we haven't changed at all. Of course things are different now," reasoned Andy. Allison took her small bag and unloaded it slowly. Andy's eyes widened curiously as Allison unloaded 4 bags of M&Ms, 4 Snicker Bars, 2 bags of Raisinettes, and a bottle of cheap tequila (Andy had seen a liquor store next to the drugstore with the logo on Allison's bag). Andy raised his eyebrows at Allison.
"Helene and I have lived together so long, we're in sync, and it happens to be that glorious time of the month!" Allison giggled when Andy blushed and looked down at his feet.
"Aaron must go through hell every 28 days then, right?" he asked nervously. Allison nodded confidently.
"Oh hell yeah! Even for a gay guy he suffers a LOT!" she said. Andy laughed.
"Listen, Ally, I feel bad about yesterday, so do you wanna come over to my apartment for the day?"
"You got food?"
"Yeah."
"I'm in."
Andy smiled. Allison licked her lips and opened a Snicker bar. "May I have a piece?" he asked politely enough. Allison shot him the internationally feared PMS Look of Death, and he withdrew. Allison smiled and nodded as if to say "Wise choice, buster," and consumed the candy bar quickly. She stuffed the rest in a cupboard and told Andy to wait while she showered and dressed. Allison disappeared into the bathroom. Andy looked around the apartment. One small table near the door to the porch had a half dozen or so photos on it. Andy took a look. Each was carelessly framed, but dated and documented well. Andy examined each photo.
Two were of Allison and Helene in Central park imitating the animals (elephants and lionesses in this case) like goofballs. Both were labeled: July 15, 1987. Andy snickered. July 15th, from what he could remember, was Allison's birthday. No, or was it June 15th? Andy forgot which. One had Allison with both Helene and Aaron sitting on a bench. It was a winter setting and they all wore black coats and were showing cross-eyes to the camera. January 27, 1989. One had Aaron, Helene, and Allison shown painting makeup on a brazen statue on the NYU campus. November 1, 1985. One had Helene and Aaron smoking cigarettes and wearing curly blonde wigs, dressed as whores. October 31, 1986. Andy stopped at the last picture, by far in the worst condition. He shook his head in disbelief.
It was the exact same photo Andy hid away in his desk. Andy recalled that Claire (the photographer) had taken two photos of them in the same pose and given one to each of them. After all these years, she'd kept it just like he had. No date was on this photo, and it looked like at one point it had been crumbled. Andy felt horrible. He'd literally skunk bagged Allison. He'd left her for college, promising to keep her in his heart. Once he'd met Vanessa, Allison was gone from his mind, and Andy cast her off like so many people had before. He'd betrayed her trust in him. Yet she kept his picture, and now was being hospitable towards him.
He was so going to hell.
"You ready?" Allison asked. Andy turned around. Allison (still with wet hair) was wearing a loose Def Lepperd tank top and baggy jeans. Andy squinted in on the tattoo again.
"It that real?" asked Andy.
"Oh this?" Allison asked, pointing to the tattoo. "Yeah. I got it a year after being here."
"What IS it?" he asked. It looked like a bunch of scribbles.
"It's an Ohm!"
"Ohm?"
"Symbol of the Hindu faith. I wanted to get a pentacle, but Helene was still Catholic at the time and I didn't want to piss her off." Andy nodded. Didn't people get AIDS from tattoo needles? Andy asked is Allison was aware.
"Yeah. I went to a place in Queens where they use clean disposable needles." Andy nodded. Allison was a smart cookie.
"Good choice, Ally." Allison nodded.
"Well?"
"Well?"
"Well...I can't go to your place without you showing me where it is!" said Allison.
Andy nodded. "Alrighty then!" he said. The duo left the apartment and began heading uptown.
~~~~~
"Talk about snob hill!" said Allison as she and Andy reached the apartment building he lived. It was a huge white building with fancy décor all over. A red carpet led from the main revolving door out to the curb. A doorman in uniform even guarded the door. "Jesus Christ, how do you pay YOUR rent?"
Andy chuckled. "I get by. It helps when you have your own business, I guess."
"Do you really live here, or are we just staying at this hotel for the night?" asked Allison.
"I'm on the 31st floor, two floors below the penthouse. The view is great!" Andy said. "Come on!" They went inside. Allison felt too dirty to be inside. She could see herself in the shiny marble floors. There was a grand staircase leading up to the first residence floor and several elevators. Andy liked how Allison couldn't help but stare.
A woman passed by who looked to be about her mid-fifties. She wore a decently-priced dress and carried a Chihuahua in her arms. Andy knew her as his crabby neighbor Josephina. The dog was Bone-aparte. She stopped and surveyed Allison. Then she tsked at Andy.
"What WILL Vanessa say when she finds out you're hiring prostitutes from Brooklyn?" she sighed woefully at Andy. Allison fumed. The NERVE of this bitch!
"Actually, I'm an exterminator from Queens, and Andy called me on account of your obvious rat infestation!" Allison said, indicating the dog. Andy snorted trying to hold back a laugh. "I have the rat guillotine outside in the van-"
"-Oh for heaven's sake!" and with that Josephina shut up and moved outside.
Andy looked at Allison. "You are DEFINITLEY the Allison I remember!"
"The one and only!" Andy pressed an elevator 'UP' button, and no sooner done than the door opened to reveal a beautifully-mirrored elevator. Andy and Allison stepped inside, and after pressing another button, the elevator whisked the pair up to floor 31. Andy guided Allison down the hallway to apartment 31C. He took out a key and led Allison inside.
Once inside, Allison thought she'd stepped into a parallel universe. The carpeting was beige and so soft one could fall asleep on it. The room wasn't huge, but it was at least twice the size of Allison's living room/kitchenette. Oh, that's another thing. This place had a full-sized kitchen, complete with microwave and oven. She didn't even WANT to see how elegant the bedrooms were. She felt poor enough already.
Andy noticed how Allison seemed intimidated, so he told her to sit down a minute while he got her something for lunch (she hadn't eaten breakfast either, if you didn't count the candy bar). Allison sat on the comfy sofa and wanted to drift off to sleep. But instead, she was intrigued by the neat row of pictures on the coffee table. One had Andy in a blue graduation robe clutching a diploma, in his mother's grip. Another had Andy holding a small golden retriever puppy and smiling. The last few had Andy doing various activities with a tall, anorexic-looking blonde with no body fat and Anna Nicole Smith's makeup style. That must be HER, Allison thought. That must be the anti-Christ he's holding in his arms!
"Excuse me, Miss?" Allison whipped around to see the satanic image come to life before her eyes. "You must have the wrong room. Tony the Pimp's apartment is 21C!" God, why did everyone up here think she's a WHORE?
"I'm an acquaintance of Andy's," said Allison, who didn't want to make waves with this chick as much as she had with the old crabby woman downstairs.
"Oh! Then, well, hello!" The woman's voice suddenly turned so sugary-sweet that Allison could have sworn she felt a cavity forming. The lady offered her hand out to Allison, who shook it halfheartedly. "I'm Vanessa Leigh Rose Lenoir! It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss-"
"-Allison Portia Reynolds," informed Allison. She wasn't aware of why the hell they used middle names uptown.
"I'm Andy's fiancée!"
"Have you set a date yet?" asked Allison casually (meanwhile, she imagined Vanessa's head impaled upon a stake).
"Not as of late, but we're very much in love!" said Vanessa.
"So it would seem..."said Allison, wanting very much to set her on fire.
"Do you live in Manhattan?"
"Down in SoHo."
Vanessa seemed uncomfortable. Allison wondered why...
This girl is pretty, although she hangs her hair in front of her face. Def Lepperd, hmm? Andy once said he liked that band. She's got some meat on her bones, but not a lot, that's a plus for me. She's probably a pauper or a beggar, as befits a girl from SoHo. How the hell does she know Andy? Is she an ex-girlfriend of his? Does he still like her? Why is she here at all and how come I've never heard of her before? was all that Vanessa Lenoir was thinking as of right now.
"So, are you asking for some money?" asked Vanessa, her voice gone again.
"Huh? No, why would I?" asked Allison.
"So you can go out and buy a decent sweater! Honestly, this tank top shows off your man-shoulders! Do you want to be mistaken for a slut?" Vanessa began circling Allison, who turned right around with her.
"Well, god forbid someone ever dip into your G-string's trust fund!" spat Allison. Vanessa stepped back, infuriated.
"I see we have a bohemian mouth on us. Do you paint naked men screwing other men and sell it for peanut money?" asked Vanessa.
"I paint whatever my muse tells me to paint!" said Allison plainly.
"Muse? What is that? Like a pimp?" Vanessa tried to comeback. Allison wondered if "pimp" was the only way Vanessa knew how to insult other girls. Allison smiled and put on her crazy eyes.
"No, a muse is a tiny demon that sits on my shoulder and whispers sweet somethings in my ear." Allison grinned. Vanessa's pale little forehead was beginning to sweat...
"You're Satanic?" Vanessa asked nervously. "Why, what were you thinking?"
"I don't think for myself because His Royal Highness Beelzebub thinks for me! As a Bohemian artist, I am bound to His Highness' service until the end of eternity! Satan commands us to do his bidding, and we obey! That's my muse!" Allison was having quite a bit of fun with this. Vanessa's 20-dollar antiperspirant was failing her miserably.
"Get OUT!" she shouted. "You WHORE! You WITCH! Stop bewitching my fiancé and get out of my HOUSE!" Vanessa screamed.
From in the kitchen, Andy was almost finished making sandwiches when he heard Vanessa's scream. What the hell was going on? Andy rushed out into the living room to find Vanessa crossing herself and muttering a Hail Mary as Allison slammed the front door behind her on her way out.
"Vanessa? What the hell did you do?"
"What I did? She's a child of Satan!! She said so herself!" yelled Vanessa. Andy rolled his eyes.
"For Christ's sake, she's an artist!" Andy ran out the door and into the elevator. Why wasn't Allison in with him? There only was one elevator! That means she took the steps. Andy would wait for her...the steps would take a long time.
Upon reaching the lobby, Andy waited at the base of the stairwell for Allison. 10...20...40...an hour went by. It wouldn't take an hour to go down the stairs. Maybe he'd missed Allison and she got out before he could?
"Damn," he muttered. He needed to apologize to Allison. But for now, he had to go back upstairs and calm his girlfriend down before she had another asthma attack. Andy trudged guiltily back into the elevator and went upstairs.
Meanwhile, Allison sighed and climbed down the final set of stairs under which she was waiting for Andy to leave. Furious, she made her way out the door and caught a bus back to her home in SoHo.
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