Stakes was the hottest bar on the boardwalk, always filled to the brim with punks, weirdos and the like. It was a sort of shelter for the many outcasts in Santa Carla, a sanctuary almost. How Harlow ended up sitting in an uncomfortable booth, sandwiched between two punks with bad eyeliner and spiked hair, she did not know.

"Nah dude, Zeppelin is bogus. Pink Floyd though, they're where it's at.", the punk with the bright pink side-shave exclaimed, taking an over-exaggerated swig from his cold beer.

"Shut the fuck up Jeremiah, there is no damn way that Floyd is better than Zeppelin.", snarled the punk with bright green spikes seated on Harlow's right, sending a harsh glare to him over Harlow's head.

"How about you both shut the fuck up, we all know that Misfits is the best band out there.", argued the girl with the shaved head and eyebrow piercing across the table. The punks began arguing with each other, pointing at one another angrily and yelling which band was better and why.

Harlow groaned agitatedly her head rolling to rest on the back of the booth. Between the loud arguing and the gross smoke spewing from the punk's cigarettes she was sandwiched between, she was beginning to gain one monster of a headache.

The last straw was when the punk with the pink side-shave, "Jeremiah" Harlow learned, slid his sweaty hand onto her thigh. As soon as he had put his hand on her leg, Harlow let out a war cry and punched him right in his ugly pierced face. While Pinky clutched his bloody nose and yelled obscenities at Harlow, she shoved the green haired punk out of the booth and ran to a random table, pulling out a chair and sitting between a chipper looking blond eating a plate of nachos and an annoyed brunette.

"Act like I'm one of your friends, an ugly punk is chasing me.", she spoke quickly, grabbing a nacho from the happy blond's plate who let out a slightly offended "hey!".

Harlow glanced around the bar, searching for pink hair, and let out a sigh of relief when she didn't find who she was looking for. She sent a nod of thanks to the girls sitting at the table and decided to take her leave before Pinky came back looking for revenge.

Harlow shoved her way through the crowd of bar-goers, sending the bartender an annoyed look as she kicked open the grimy door of the establishment.

"That is the last goddamn time Victory drags me somewhere and then dips out.. fuckin jerk." Harlow thought to herself bitterly.

'Let's go to a bar!', she said. 'It'll be fun and we can take shots!', she said. Victory made promises she knew she wouldn't keep quite often, and this night was just another to add to the ongoing list. As soon as the worn sole of Harlow's converse touched the creaky wooden floor of the shitty bar, Victory was out of sight.

Harlow shoved her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket, her eyes darting around the brightly colored board walk. She glanced at a couple of shiny kiosks, deciding to stop at the one selling costume jewelry. Harlow held up a tacky bracelet that was far too overpriced and rolled her eyes at the poor attempt of a scam. Dropping the bracelet back into its spot, the kiosk worker sent her a glare, "Don't touch if ya ain't gonna buy nothin'.", the old woman snarled.

Harlow scoffed and continued her walk around the boardwalk, pushing her messy bangs away from her face. Harlow glanced up and her eye was immediately drawn to the Alice Cooper record sitting in the window of a music shop. She felt her heart skip a beat and began to stride over to the door, where unfortunately, a closed sign was hanging.

Harlow hung her head in defeat and continued on with her walk. Her nose caught the unmistakable scent of French fries, and once again her spirits lifted. She waltzed in the direction of the delicious smell, her eyes catching the faces of strangers every so often, until she caught a startling blue gaze over the many heads of people.

Those cool enchanting blue eyes, they made her stand completely still in the middle of the crowd, forcing others to push their way around her in annoyance. As soon as those baby blues were there, they were gone in an instant.

Harlow shook herself out of her trance, and tried to remember what she was looking for in the first place. She knew she wanted fries, but decided to just head back to the apartment.

She made her trek to the end of the boardwalk where Stevie, her beloved car, sat waiting. Victory had taken her bike to the boardwalk, so Harlow wasn't worried that she wouldn't have a way home.

Harlow pulled open the car door and fell into the soft fabric of Stevie's seats. She cranked the car and fiddled with the radio a moment, attempting to find a decent station. Her attempts were futile, and in the end she gave up on music. Instead, she tried to focus her jumbled mind on the road, on making it back to the apartment so she could rid herself of the gunk that most likely rubbed off on her from the booth at the bar.

Harlow sighed as the building came into view, turning into the driveway and parking next the complex. She climbed out Stevie, shut and locked the door, and made her way into the building, shedding her jacket along the way.

She sighed in relief as she walked to her front door, pulling out her key to unlock it. She stepped into the freshly cleaned and unpacked apartment, thank god she and victory had a cleaning rush the day before. Harlow hung her denim jacket on a hook near the door, kicked off her shoes and walked into the small living room to collapse onto the couch.

As she drifted in and out of consciousness, those piercing blue eyes stared at her from the back of her mind.