• @cassiebennett •
So the smartass behind that pathetic fucking gossip blog thought it’d be smart to stir shit up about him. That’s alright. No big deal, honestly. Far from the worst fucking thing to have happened to him. Except now his boss likely thinks he’s drinking and dealing again, and everyone else thinks he’s corrupting some canal street kid with drugs and gang crime. It’d be hilarious if he weren’t so fucking angry. Now he’s a couple hundred bucks down because his ability to insist on going into work was outweighed by his rage and any extra cash he coulda made today is going into some other asshole’s pocket right this second.
“Come down, I ain’t coming in,” he’s now spitting through a speaker outside a Tribeca complex.
Above all else, they’re making these connections that they got no business knowing. It’s not well hidden, he knows that; his past is right there if you want it, but it ain’t about people digging up his dirt. It’s about his current accomplices (and enemies) making the connection between Jordan Moore and Nicholas Brando. That dumb fucking post is a damn small step, but it’s one towards that shit coming right back to bite him in the ass.
The door to the complex finally opens and he repeats, “I ain’t coming in,” arms crossed over his chest as he seethes on the doorstep. Last thing he needs is those assholes scrutinising him for entering the girl’s apartment complex; twisting it into something it ain’t. But then... It’s probably just as bad out here in the open, with people passing by and making their shitty little notes. Jordan was seen stood at her front door during a heated conversation. Fuck that.
“Fuck that,” he grumbles and shoves past her into the building. “you seen that fuckin’ post? About the two of us?”
