Chapter Text
Dee scrolled through her phone, chuckling at the dumb cat videos shown on her Instagram reels when she heard a knock at her door.
Her mood immediately soured. She had no desire to deal with any of the shitbags who had come to either harass her or drag her into some unwanted adventure.
She sighed. Here she was—a woman in her forties, single, laughing at cat videos. That realization brought her to her feet.
She walked to the door and opened it slightly, the hinges creaking. Charlie stood there in a sweat-soaked gray sweatshirt, fidgeting with his fingers as his nails dug into his hands, causing small beads of blood to form.
"Dee?"
"Jesus, Charlie, are you alright? Come in."
She opened the door wider, ushering him toward her couch.
"Dee... don't be a whore. I'm not in the mood. I don't want to sleep with you."
She glared at him, her voice rising in pitch.
"I DON'T WANT TO SLEEP WITH YOU. YOU SMELL LIKE CAT PISS AND CAT SHIT, CHARLIE.
Charlie nodded, looking at the ground while continuing to dig his nails into his hands. Dee sighed and watched him, her expression shifting to one of concern.
"What's wrong?"
She sat beside him on the couch.
"Frank has a lot of people over, and I don't like it. Today was supposed to be movie day where we get high and watch well.. movies. But he hired a bunch of hookers... which is fine, I guess. But they're kind of gross, and I just don't feel like dealing with it today..."
Charlie trailed off as Dee grabbed his hands.
"First of all, stop digging into your hands,,you're getting blood on my couch. Second, I don't need to hear about Frank's special guests. Third, if this matters so much to you, which it clearly does, we can watch a movie here."
Dee spoke softly, careful not to startle Charlie. He nodded while still avoiding eye contact.
"Okay, but you can't tell the guys I'm here. They'll make fun of me."
Dee sighed. "Charlie, they know we've banged. How is this more
embarrassing?"
"Well, you know, it's male instinct to have sex and stuff... at least that's what Mac says."
Dee interrupted him.
"MAC IS GAY. Of course he'd say that."
Charlie flinched at her raised voice, covering his ears with his hands. Dee frowned apologetically.
"Sorry. What movie do you want to watch?" Dee spoke softly again.
Charlie often came to her when he felt overwhelmed. She wouldn't use this vulnerability against him like the others would—mostly because she understood being at the bottom of the pecking order.
Charlie groaned in response.
"Use your words." Dee crossed her arms.
"Mmm I d’nno," Charlie mumbled.
"What do you usually watch with Frank?"
Another groan.
"Okay, how about I choose?"
Charlie nodded. As Dee shifted to get up, Charlie grabbed her sleeve.
"Stay."
"You're particularly clingy today, aren't you?" Dee smirked. "I'm just getting the remote. You'll be fine."
Charlie groaned in protest but released her sleeve. She retrieved the remote and sat back down.
She opened Netflix, browsing through the movie options while occasionally glancing at Charlie. He smelled of cat piss and body odor, but nothing she couldn't tolerate.
She knew that after tonight, they wouldn't discuss any of this. The cycle would repeat,,Charlie would return the next time he felt overwhelmed, and Dee wouldn't mention it to the others.
"The Notebook? I promise I'll keep quiet about how I was supposed to play Allie."
Charlie nodded, and the movie began.