Chapter Text
NB: Pop means "grandfather" in this work because of Cherri's Australian origins
December, 12, 2025
In the restroom of the club "Dead Sure," Cherri considers heading back to Angel and her zero-cocaine Coke. She looks in the mirror and notices that her eyeliner and eyeshadows look perfect at this point.
She and Angel wanted some Coke with actual cocaine; the club could offer that. But they were satisfied with each other and with their progress at the hotel. So, they decided there was no need to get higher. That satisfaction made up for the drug.
What Angel cannot see when Cherri leaves is a guy in a spiky gray coat approaching her and following her right to the ladies' room.
"Hey.", the guy says.
"Hey, have we...had fun before?"
He presses her against the wall and squeezes her soul out of her, punching it out of her lungs with hard kisses. She thought her soul had shrunk to a solid piece, like a bar of soap, ages ago. But it turns out to be all fluid. When it runs out, there is still some air, like in a smothered juice box, which makes a poignant sucking sound.
"Sure...Dizzy..."
She gasps, trembles, and shakes under his hands, not wanting to acknowledge that she is starting to understand. A heated, excruciating pulse runs through her body, although the man is as cold as ice cubes in her cocktails.
"Name's Cherri."
"I'll remember that. Cherri Bomb. That's what they said when I had been looking for you. I remember everything."
She summons a bomb, and he... keeps licking the space around the strap of her bra, kissing her down the thin aisle between her armpit and breast.
"That kitten in our vegetable garden...remember? Scratched your freckles bloody and I spunk the asshole and kicked it out and licked and kissed every pore on your skin till it healed. And the bloody cat came back two weeks later and you petted it till it lay next to you curling....I kicked it out every time we needed... you had the guts to forget about it, Diz..."
He adds some teeth grip, and she starts pulling the ring of her bomb, shuddering.
"Screw it. Fuck me and get lost. I can't stand seeing you. Fucking safe and sound."
His sinister voice fails him and makes her squeeze her thighs tight.
"I can't treat you like a one night stand. You're mine. I'll have you spread in my house, on your bed... your windowsill... your bath..."
She lets the bomb go when they're out of the club.