The A Team

Acelynne is struggling to make her life work in her apartment in London. She has moved away from all friends and family connections in America. She hates everybody and she feels as if she's better off alone.

She tries to make things better but it seems she can't land a job because she has no work experience in England. Find out what she does to keep her apartment and how all that hard work crashes down because she makes new friends.


1. Friends? When Did This Happen?


I finished my cigarette and went back up to my apartment passing my very bitter doorman. He for hates me a lot. For one: I'm always late on rent For two: I always bring different men home every night.  He thinks it's because I'm a slut. If he only knew that the money I pay my rent with came from these men. 

Now, if you're not comfortable with reading a whore's story, I advise you to stop now. If you don't give a shit, continue. But, I must tell you. There's more to me than being a prostitute. I have a back story. I didn't choose this. 

As I reached my apartment I growled at the loud music playing upstairs. Liam Payne is doing a twitcam again.  It always gets in the way of my customer's wanting to pay. 

"I didn't come here to listen to Justin Bieber while you give me head!" they'd say.

I'd always snap back saying, "I sure as hell didn't tell him to play it!"

Occasionally, when I don't get a customer, I go up there and knock on the door and sweetly ask Liam to turn it down.  He's a sweet bloke that boy is. We've become friendly neighbors.  I walk into my apartment fiddling with my keys. I have a small balcony, but we still can't smoke there. The rules.  So I always go out in front of the building and smoke there. When Liam has his band over sometimes I'd see that Zayn guy smoking.

The first time I saw him, I was halfway done and he asked for a fag. I kindly gave one to him , free of charge. He said it won't happen again and I thought to myself, Good, I don't have much money to be supplying everyone cigs. 

Now sometimes when I'm out there we have small talk. But, trust me. I keep the small talk so small you would think me and him are still strangers. 

I haven't met the other lads though. And I don't intend to. Im too busy to be hanging around boy bands all day.

My apartment's not really anything. I have a tv but the cables out because I haven't paid the bill. My bed is a mattress on a neatly stacked rectangle of wood and I have a desk lamp on the floor in my bed room. Closet full of ten outfits. One duvet and one pillow. A fridge so close to being empty - but that's okay, I don't eat anyway. I like to look at food. Organize food. Not eat it. If I ate food my customers wouldn't be attracted. When I do eat it's salad and water.

One thing occupied my coffee table, not even a coffee table. It was a trunk that brought all my stuff here from America, and I took duct tape and put a strip on the top. Took a sharpie and wrote on the duct tape "TABLE". Anyway, the only think that took up space on it was a clean empty ash tray that I had never used. I don't like smoking inside. And, let's not forget the half drank warm beer sitting next to it.  I grabbed my only cup I own and poured the beer in it and places a few pieces of ice in it. I drank it and scrunched my face at the bitter taste. Better than having water 24/7. I took another swig. 

I walked around my apartment bored.  I was on my period so there's no going out tonight.  I was swinging around my arm that wasn't holding the glass trying to entertain myself. Instead of laughing at the entertainment I giggled at my failed attempt of trying.  As I finished the beer I washed my cup in my sink, ready for whatever I wanted to drink next.

My red hair was messy and unbrushed since this morning. I mean I brushed it, but my thin hair still got back in a tangled mess. I didn't care. My brown roots were highly noticeable and again, I didn't care. 

Wearing skinny jeans and my baggy All Time Low shirt was the most comfortable outfit I owned.  Let's just say the other clothes was for work.   

--   I was fiddling around with my lighter, playing with fire. Not the most safe pass time, but I literally had nothing to do. No friends, ditched them to come here. No phone, too expensive. And I hadn't had crack. 

Yes, I'm a crack whore. Don't like it? Stop reading.

So my lighter was the place to go.  A few minutes ago I took Tylenol for my cramps but they hadnt kicked in yet.  Periods make me want to punch people in the face. Good thing I had no friends. I hate people anyway so why need friends?

I decided I needed to make money someway so I picked up a pile of 10 magazines I had bought a week ago for entertainment. Read them all twice because I was tired of re-reading Looking For Alaska for the millionth time. 

I headed out the door and went to try and sell the week old used piles of expensive paper. 

I was on the street and not one person stops for the magazines. I bet they all have already read those AND this weeks edition of everything. 

Just when I was about to give up a ginger haired guy comes up to me and asks for one. Gave me five pounds, more than my 2.50 asking price.  I gave him the one he asks for and just when I think he was about to leave he sits beside the spot I'm sitting. 

We got deep in conversation about some of the bullshit rumours reporters likes to make up.

I learned his name, Ed.

He learned mined, Acelynne.

He started to call me Ace. Which I liked, a lot.

He asked for my number to hang out but I informed him I had no phone.  "How about an address then? I can write you a day before I plan to come over." he joked. 

That was the first time I've laughed since being here in England. It felt really good for that to escape my lips! I laughed more for the feeling of it. He smiled at that. 

"Here," I took the pen I found on the ground as I walked here and wrote my apartment address on a pointless almost completely white deodorant ad. I made sure to include the intersection it was on. 

"Thanks, here," he gave me an extra 30 to his five. 

"What is this for?"

He quieted me as he wrote a phone phone number in the corner of the same ad and ripped it out and took a paper clip from one of my magazines that I had used as a bookmark and clipped it to the money.  "Whenever you want me to come over to talk. Go to the nearest pay phone."

I smiled and made a mental note that that is ALL im using the 30 pounds for. I can use the other five pounds for anything else. 

"Okay, I will. Thanks." I said completely surprised. 

"Well, I got to go. Seriously, call me for anything." he walked away  I had a feeling he knows about my struggle and just wants to help. Like I look like I need a friend. And I bet everyone else noticed the same, they were just too involved in their busy lives to take ten minutes out of their day to be nice to me. 

I sat there for a good half hour before I decided no one else would be like him so I took my 9 mags and left for home.


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