|Lovers, Liars, and Lunatics
Author: mmmh-Hot-Sauce PM
Shane, Mark, and Alice are about to graduate from Berkeley University with majors in cheating, lying, and scheming. But there latest scheme doesn't go as planned when they get busted by the most unlikely person on campus.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Romance - Shane M. & Carmen - Chapters: 8 - Words: 21,201 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 08-03-12 - Published: 03-10-12 - id: 7911216
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
TITLE: Lovers, Liars, and Lunatics.
RATING: R ... May become NC-17 later
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters, well, maybe one or two, but as for the rest of them, nope.
SPOILERS: Completely AU
SUMMARY: Shane, Mark, and Alice are about to graduate from Berkeley University with majors in lying, cheating and scheming. But there latest scheme doesn't go as planned when they get busted by the most unlikely person on campus.
FEEDBACK: I would be grateful for any and all comments. This is my very first 'L Word' Fanfic
Note: Shane's thoughts are in black/italics.
"Yes, hi, this is Aaron Stevens," came a husky female voice as she spoke over the telephone. "I'm calling from Non-bottled Wine Beverage Monthly; a new publication. I was just calling to inform you..." she paused for a second to think of what next to say. "uhh.. to inform you that your product has been selected as the best boxed wine on the market."
She smiled broadly as the person on the other line started to talk, "Yes, that's right! So all of us here at the magazine thought...you should go ahead and send over a fuckin' shitload of it."
She waited a moment again to let the other person speak before resuming her flow of speech. "Oh, we love it. It's so good. What do we like?"
She turned in her chair to look at her friend, her perfectly sculptured eyebrow raised high in questioning.
"Merlot," Her friend whispered back, a devilish smirk on his face as he and a third party paid close attention to the conversation taking place.
"We love the merlot." She dead panned, her voice husky and low. "You're the best, Cindy. You always have been. Thank you."
"How was that?" She asked as she hung up the phone, completely spinning her chair around to face her friends.
"Shane, that was freaking nuts," the boy said as he smiled at his friend, all the while clapping his hands together in approval.
"Mark, what do you expect? Shane's all about the scam," said the other occupant in the room, her smirk just as wide as the other two.
"And like you're not, Alice?" Shane retorted, her right eyebrow raised high in rebuttal.
"Alright, guys." Mark cheered, pumping up his friends. "We've done this before. Let's do it again." He ran through the specifically organized plan once more before setting a time to meet back at their place of residence. "Okay, let's meet back here in twenty minutes.
Simple, easy, by the book. Berkeley University. This was our territory...and here we were. Seventy-two days away from a diploma...that would open doors for the rest of our lives. We're one step closer to the American dream. That is … after today's scam.
Just as Mark had planned out, the scam was in full effect. Sitting backwards atop a motorbike in a beige jumpsuit, a florescent orange vest, with a video camera attached to her hand was Shane. In front of her, steering the bike, sat Mark, both of them watching as the varsity track team stretched.
As soon as the team got into position to start running their mini marathon, Mark started up the bike and Shane turned on the camera, zooming the lens on the athletic bodies of the young women.
"Hey there! We're from Mission Sports!" She yelled out to the running women as the bike drove alongside them. "Everybody smile for the camera!"
She zoomed the camera on the heaving chests of the already perspiring young women, "It's gonna be on tonight at eight. Everybody smile!"
"Who are you?" one of the girls hollered out.
"Mission Sports." Shane said again, scanning the camera from one girl to the next. It's gonna be on the Bureau Sports Channel. A twenty-four hour-a-day sports coverage."
Leaning back against Mark, so that she could whisper into the man's ear, "Slow down. Slow down!"
As Mark and Shane busied themselves with the track team, Alice set her sight on an Airborne Express truck heading towards the college admissions office. The back of the truck loaded with test booklets that could determine the deciding factor of all three students graduating status.
Stealthily skating towards the truck on a borrowed skateboard, she waited for the van to slow down at a speed bump before pulling out a small, hand held, sawzall. With the small tool, she easily broke open the latch holding the door closed. Sliding the door open just enough to slide her body in, she tossed the sawzall in then followed suit, bringing the door down behind her.
Gaining her baring's, she placed the implement back into her backpack before searching the boxes stacked around the bed of the truck for the booklets Mark had requested.
"You guys wanna be on TV?" Shane called back out to the girls running behind the motorbike. "Come on, say hello to Mom!"
"We're on 'em," Mark shouted out to Shane as he kept one eye on the advancing Airborne Express truck. "We're on 'em."
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful." Shane continued to say to the women running, encouraging them to smile into the camera. "You're great. You look good. Big strides. Smile for the camera."
"We need to speed up a little," Mark advised. "Hold on."
"No athletics like amateur athletics." Shane crooned as she zoomed the camera onto a particular woman, the girl's muscles flexing and contrasting with every breath and movement she made to keep up with the motorbike. "Oh, I see the Olympics for you, baby."
Zooming back out, so that the lens focused on the chest of a few girls instead of one, "Everybody's a winner."
Finding the box she was looking for, Alice ripped the tape binding the flaps together open. Digging through the box to make sure the booklets inside were indeed the ones she need, she removed thee test pamphlets and placed them into her book bag.
Folding the flaps closed, she removed a roll of brown tape from her bag and reclosed the box. Repositioning the box back onto the shelf where she found it, Alice waited until the signal that the cost was all clear to hop out of the truck.
Giving the bike gas, Mark floored it away from the running women and towards the original finishing line of the mini marathon the track team was running. Ripping the flag out of the ground, Shane signaled to Mark to start driving again. Zigzagging across a small patch of grass than across a street, Shane hoped off of the bike and replanted the flag near a fire hydrant.
Taking off with the bike towards a slightly wooded area, Mark started to prepare himself for phase three of the scam.
"Right here, right here!" Shane shouts as she hollered to the slightly confused runners, the change in course causing them to stop running and look around for the finish line in confusion. "All runners cross the street!"
As some of the runners started to run towards her, Shane continued to yell out, "This way, this way! This is a different route."
As the group of women started to run cross the street, the driver of Airborne Express truck slammed on his breaks, stopping the vehicle just shy of hitting one of the runners.
"Watch where you're going, asshole!" The women yelled in anger as she slammed her hands down on the hood as she continued to jog by.
"Yeah," someone said from behind her.
The sound of breaks squeaking and the thud of metal being banged on was Alice's signal to hop out of the truck. As she did so, she was met with the sight of Shane. Quickly, she handed over her book bag to the dark haired brunette in exchange for the shaggy haired girl's camera. As soon as the exchange was made, Shane was gone. In her place now stood Mark, completely dressed in a bicyclist garb, and with a bike, the front wheel already bent as if it had been ran over.
Chucking the bike at the bake of the truck, Mark threw himself on the ground then grabbed his right leg before screaming on the top of his lungs. "My leg!" Mark hollered as he roughly clutched his thigh.
"I can't believe it!" Alice said in faux shock as she zoomed the camera down on Mark's face.
"Oh!" Mark wailed in exaggerated pain. "You killed my tibia!"
"Oh, my God." Proclaimed the truck driver as he hopped out of the car and ran over to the injured man.
"What a travesty!" Alice half yelled as she scanned the camera back and forth from Mark to the driver.
"Oh, Lord!" The driver hyperventilated as her removed the baseball cap he wore from off of his head, rubbing the back of his hand across his forehead. "Jesus, this looks bad."
"He's never gonna make it." Alice continued to act, her voice trembling. "He's supposed to work in a kibbutz this summer."
"Whatever, but I didn't do anything." The driver replied nervously as he started to slowly back away from Alice.
"Have mercy on my leg!" Mark hollered out as he lashed out from side to side, his hands still clasped firmly to his leg.
"Keep lying, buddy." Alice growled out as she pointed the camera directly at the middle aged man's face, catching his distressed expression. "I got it all here on tape." Swinging the camera around to position it on a bumper sticker located on the rear end of the car, with the digits to the truck drivers company, "I might just call that number."
"I'm calling my supervisor." The man hollered out in anger as he stepped in front of the bumper sticker to try and prevent the young women from getting the phone number on tape.
"Oh yeah?" Alice protested in anger. "Why don't you call a doctor while you're at it? Look at him. You ruined his leg!"
"Hey, I was in Desert Storm, young lady!" The driver yelled out before storming off to the front of his car to contact his boss.
"God, it hurts!" Mark screamed loud, face tears now streaming down his face.
All of this...
"You don't know anything about driving." Alice continued to rant as she watched the driver hop into the truck, preparing to drive off.
To pass a test.
"He broke my tibia!" Mark shouted out as he sat upwards, drawing the attention of nearby students walking to class. "He broke … my tibia!"
It's one of our favorite scams … 'the worm on the hook'. You see, the key was stealing an official university blue book...which they kept under lock and key. Now, if you had an extra blue book...you could pretty much get away with anything. And now, after this morning, we had our very own supply.