cruel summer @joey-reynolds - Tumblr Blog

kirandesai:

@catalinastarter: open location: faraway records (lafayette square) when: mid-morning

A scratchy Otis Redding album plays throughout the store as Kiran refreshes eBay for what has to be the hundredth time this morning. They hold their breath as the page loads– they’ve bid far too much on this Bee Gees record already, but now Kiran is determined to win. Scouring the Internet for limited-release and rare vinyl has become like a sport to them over the years ( an expensive sport, that most people don’t give a shit about, but a sport all the same ).

The page reloads; someone else has outbid them.

“Damn it!” Kiran yells a little too loudly, the palm of their hand slapping the counter for good measure. They look up rather sheepishly as the customers turn their heads toward the commotion.

“Sorry,” they call out after a moment’s delay. “It’s just that I’ve just found out disco is dead. You know how it is. The shop will be in mourning until further notice.”

It had been the Otis Redding that drew Joey in. Vinyl was dead in some aspects, but she had always found it to be so soothing. The quiet scratches, the croon of the singer, all of it was like a siren call.

She’d been so engrossed in seeing Led Zeppelin IV that the sound of someone swearing has her nearly throwing the album across the store.

“I don’t think disco’s really dead,” she remarked as she composed herself. Her finger trails and hooks into one of the ABBA albums. “I mean, some of it’s timeless.”

#&&( yeah baby there's a feeling in me so sexy sour and sweet ) → conversations #( kiran )

rezdis

#&&( the vixen in me becomes an angel for you ) → visage

Josephine Reynolds: Instagram

#&&( i serve it up in a shot so suck it down like a man ) → musings #catalina: edits

jackadler:

STARTER FOR: @joey-reynolds LOCATION: Red Dragon. SETTING: Late afternoon.

The days were going by so damn slowly. Each day Jack woke up with the same feeling of dread though more intense. It seems to increase every time his eyes flutter open. He’ll search his ceiling for answers before starting the day, that same dread feeling like weights around his ankles.

As always, he’s sporting another hangover. A night of drinking alone was to blame for this sudden ailment. Alone. When he looks around his bedroom, seeing empty bottles of wine and beer, he decides to push them under his bed. His sister, Mia, didn’t need to witness his downfall. Not yet, anyway.

Considering it was late in the day, Jack decides to head out and get something to eat. This had been another new segment of Jack’s lackluster routine. He gets up at late hours, stumbles into his bathroom to splash some cold water on his face, and then heads out. Usually he attempted to muster a low profile in order to bar hop on his own accord. But, today, he thinks otherwise, and thinks that getting some food in him might be the best option. Especially since he was already feeling sick again.

He sits, browsing through a menu that doesn’t look quite appetizing as he thought before he allows his gaze to wander. The singer’s eyes land on a head of blonde hair. At first, he thinks of Marion, sorrowfully so. But then she turns, her face coming into view and Jack almost pukes right then and there. “Joey?” The man questions with a furrowed brow, turning in her direction. The two had always had a love-hate relationship between them. Mostly because the foundation of their relationship was built on sex, drugs, booze, and parties. “What’re you doing in Catalina?”

Getting out of LA would do you some good, Haddie had encouraged. Another disastrous engagement, another scandal, another mindless reminder that she’s truly the black sheep of the Reynolds family.

Who knows? You might come out of it with another hit. Everyone needs a vacation.

It’s how she ended up on the ferry to Santa Catalina Island with little more than a duffel and a suitcase. Solo vacations seem a little sad, but every place seemed to roll together. Milan. Rome. Paris. Every city was old. New York is loud. LA is bougie.

A craving for spring rolls and crab Rangoon brings her to Red Dragon for her first dinner. The menu isn’t promising, save for the copious amounts of MSG that’s sure to send her to the nearest gas station for a snack at midnight.

She’d been so lost in the menu that the sound of her name nearly had her dropping her menu instead of placing it down on the pristine white tablecloth adorning her table. Joey. So few people called her Joey. It was mostly Josephine. Dark brown eyes lift nonetheless to see the source of the voice and her mouth went dry.

“Jack!”

Jack Adler.

Part of her wonders if he’s a ghost. Or some form of hallucination from a prolonged acid trip. It had been years since she’d last seen him, a muse and a muso. He’s the epitome of sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll. Partying. Joey had hated him almost as much as she’d loved him.

“Vacation. I, uh, just finished a shoot for Burberry in London and thought I could use a change of pace. What about you?”