The Morning After
Prompt #161 from theatrical_muse
Name : Ginger McKenna-Rothstein
Fandom : Casino
Word count : 404
Topic: The Morning After
How could I argue with him? I’m trying to set things straight between us, trying to make up for the shit I caused. So if he wants me to have a pager, then what am I supposed to do? Throw it back at him? Because that’s what I wanted to do. He wants to keep tabs on me all of the time now, like I’m his fucking pet or some shit like that.
Last night didn’t go so well. He just couldn’t drop it, no matter what good intentions he set out with, he couldn’t drop it. What was supposed to be a reconciliation dinner, turned into the fucking Spanish Inquisition. How did I manage to spend twenty five grand in three days? Who gives a shit how I managed to spend it, it’s only money. How much were the suits? How did he manage to get fitted for twenty five suits in three days? I already told him I bought Lester a watch too. What? He thinks watches come cheap? Coming from the guy who has a different fucking watch for every suit he owns, and not some cheap shit either. I mean, we’re talking real quality watches here. I’m not justifying what I did, but it’s happened already, and he says he wants me back. So that should be it right? End of story.
Wrong. I can’t make a move now without being answerable to him. I said I was fucking sorry, I said I’d made mistakes. That should be enough for him, but no. Not Sam Rothstein, he’s not happy unless he’s controlling fucking everybody. So I made a call? I didn’t mean what I was saying, I didn’t really want him whacked. It was the coke and the booze talking. So what? A girl can’t get over emotional and think that’s her only way out when she’s upset?
I didn’t mean it, and I didn’t want to leave him either. So after he threw me out with a bag full of money, I drove over to a bar, had a few drinks, a few more lines. I came back.
And now, the next morning, I got myself a pager apparently. Why doesn’t he just buy me a dog collar that says Ginger on it? Then when I wander too far, my name and address are right there, and whoever finds me can send me right back to my fucking owner.
Name : Ginger McKenna-Rothstein
Fandom : Casino
Word count : 404
Topic: The Morning After
How could I argue with him? I’m trying to set things straight between us, trying to make up for the shit I caused. So if he wants me to have a pager, then what am I supposed to do? Throw it back at him? Because that’s what I wanted to do. He wants to keep tabs on me all of the time now, like I’m his fucking pet or some shit like that.
Last night didn’t go so well. He just couldn’t drop it, no matter what good intentions he set out with, he couldn’t drop it. What was supposed to be a reconciliation dinner, turned into the fucking Spanish Inquisition. How did I manage to spend twenty five grand in three days? Who gives a shit how I managed to spend it, it’s only money. How much were the suits? How did he manage to get fitted for twenty five suits in three days? I already told him I bought Lester a watch too. What? He thinks watches come cheap? Coming from the guy who has a different fucking watch for every suit he owns, and not some cheap shit either. I mean, we’re talking real quality watches here. I’m not justifying what I did, but it’s happened already, and he says he wants me back. So that should be it right? End of story.
Wrong. I can’t make a move now without being answerable to him. I said I was fucking sorry, I said I’d made mistakes. That should be enough for him, but no. Not Sam Rothstein, he’s not happy unless he’s controlling fucking everybody. So I made a call? I didn’t mean what I was saying, I didn’t really want him whacked. It was the coke and the booze talking. So what? A girl can’t get over emotional and think that’s her only way out when she’s upset?
I didn’t mean it, and I didn’t want to leave him either. So after he threw me out with a bag full of money, I drove over to a bar, had a few drinks, a few more lines. I came back.
And now, the next morning, I got myself a pager apparently. Why doesn’t he just buy me a dog collar that says Ginger on it? Then when I wander too far, my name and address are right there, and whoever finds me can send me right back to my fucking owner.