Scully Rollins
Alex's body language was something crossed between predatory and fluent, every curve of her body following in silken motion. Spitz didn't let it carry off his attention, only stole a few glances before she sat down. Beneath the table he crossed one Gucci boot over the other. When she settled in, the expression on her face reciprocated his impish inquiries. While she spoke of her so called proposition, Spitz withdrew the robust cigar from his mouth, tilted his head back and and let a cloud of smoke roll up towards the ceiling. Once or twice, his Adam's apple bobbed rhythmically against his cocoa skin. He let his head hang back while she talked, only choosing to meet her gaze again when she put in her last piece.
"Hold up ma," an astonished, sardonic chuckle flared up from his throat, "You know what you're asking right now?" He respired deeply again from the cigar, the vanilla tainted smell drifting across the table. Spitz shook his head a few times, tugged at the bill of his snapback and continued, "You know how shady all this sounds? You got a friend… with some friends or," two fingers from each hand jerked in a quotation gesture, "clientele. I mean I'm down for upping my cash-flow, but who the fuck is you? I'ma need a little more information on this little scheme before I consider anything."
Without issue, he rose from the table and snubbed out his cigar in the ash tray just centimeters from Alex's hand. He bent slightly so that his face was within inches of hers, his breath emitting a saccharine aroma, "Can't get myself into trouble with no fine ass female without knowing terms, names, locations, and prices." With every bit of criteria, his index and middle finger hit the table. Maybe something more seductive and inviting would have slithered into the air separating himself and Alex if the record that was spinning didn't skip and the familiar voice of Kaleb crawled right inside Spitz' ear drum, causing his head to whip in the direction of where Jaylene had scampered off to. A snide smirk crept onto his face as he put up his hand, "Don't you go anywhere, beautiful."
Stepping down from the booth, he coasted over to the platform where scattered light and displeased voices littered the stage. Jaylene appeared a little baffled, her lips pursed and the hollow of her cheeks deepening with what was either concern or amusement. Spitz couldn't tell - but like Kaleb's bandmate, stepped in and briefly caught a glimpse of what was going on before Kaleb stormed off. Grunting, Spitz shifted his vision from Greco to Jaylene, "Your mans is salty, huh? Been ignoring him too long since you got to New York." Jokingly he made some foul gesture then slipped an arm around the blond plaything. But when she breathed hotly, bit her lower lip and mentioned Kaleb still using drugs, it hit Spitz. They didn't bump heads. They completely forgot about each other. Had no fucking clue.
"Unbelievable?" Spitz scoffed, "Truth, ma, he probably won't stop. Some people don't change for nothin'. Come on. Come get a drink and sit with me and my new friend, grab ahold of some new models, do your thing. Ain't gotta' be worried about nothin'." He pulled Jaylene away from Greco and the remaining pieces of the band, guided her down the stairs and to the bar while giving Alex a jerk of his head to indicate that she should follow.
They broke apart a small gathering of sorority girls, Jaylene politely bumping and squeezing to get a seat. Even though the young woman was their age, her nonmanualism made her appear so much older. Instead of a crop top and cut off shorts, she was in a fashioned sort of business suit, hardly showing any skin. Not the girl he remembered from Belleville. But what she was showing was still enough to make men insane. Her composure only popped at the stitching for maybe a minute or so until she was right back to work again. It even occurred to him that he should ask if she was okay or wanted to talk about it. However, Spitz didn't want to make it a piece more of his business. All he wanted was for the night to go smoothly for everyone and keep his ego steadily climbing.
He retrieved another cigar, lit it, and called for the blond bartender's attention, announcing proudly, "Drinks for all the ladies at the bar on me. Any young, beautiful things needing some line of work in fashion, the editor of Du Jour is right here and waiting." He pointed to Jaylene who waved an intimidating hand that brandished a pen.
Alex's body language was something crossed between predatory and fluent, every curve of her body following in silken motion. Spitz didn't let it carry off his attention, only stole a few glances before she sat down. Beneath the table he crossed one Gucci boot over the other. When she settled in, the expression on her face reciprocated his impish inquiries. While she spoke of her so called proposition, Spitz withdrew the robust cigar from his mouth, tilted his head back and and let a cloud of smoke roll up towards the ceiling. Once or twice, his Adam's apple bobbed rhythmically against his cocoa skin. He let his head hang back while she talked, only choosing to meet her gaze again when she put in her last piece.
"Hold up ma," an astonished, sardonic chuckle flared up from his throat, "You know what you're asking right now?" He respired deeply again from the cigar, the vanilla tainted smell drifting across the table. Spitz shook his head a few times, tugged at the bill of his snapback and continued, "You know how shady all this sounds? You got a friend… with some friends or," two fingers from each hand jerked in a quotation gesture, "clientele. I mean I'm down for upping my cash-flow, but who the fuck is you? I'ma need a little more information on this little scheme before I consider anything."
Without issue, he rose from the table and snubbed out his cigar in the ash tray just centimeters from Alex's hand. He bent slightly so that his face was within inches of hers, his breath emitting a saccharine aroma, "Can't get myself into trouble with no fine ass female without knowing terms, names, locations, and prices." With every bit of criteria, his index and middle finger hit the table. Maybe something more seductive and inviting would have slithered into the air separating himself and Alex if the record that was spinning didn't skip and the familiar voice of Kaleb crawled right inside Spitz' ear drum, causing his head to whip in the direction of where Jaylene had scampered off to. A snide smirk crept onto his face as he put up his hand, "Don't you go anywhere, beautiful."
Stepping down from the booth, he coasted over to the platform where scattered light and displeased voices littered the stage. Jaylene appeared a little baffled, her lips pursed and the hollow of her cheeks deepening with what was either concern or amusement. Spitz couldn't tell - but like Kaleb's bandmate, stepped in and briefly caught a glimpse of what was going on before Kaleb stormed off. Grunting, Spitz shifted his vision from Greco to Jaylene, "Your mans is salty, huh? Been ignoring him too long since you got to New York." Jokingly he made some foul gesture then slipped an arm around the blond plaything. But when she breathed hotly, bit her lower lip and mentioned Kaleb still using drugs, it hit Spitz. They didn't bump heads. They completely forgot about each other. Had no fucking clue.
"Unbelievable?" Spitz scoffed, "Truth, ma, he probably won't stop. Some people don't change for nothin'. Come on. Come get a drink and sit with me and my new friend, grab ahold of some new models, do your thing. Ain't gotta' be worried about nothin'." He pulled Jaylene away from Greco and the remaining pieces of the band, guided her down the stairs and to the bar while giving Alex a jerk of his head to indicate that she should follow.
They broke apart a small gathering of sorority girls, Jaylene politely bumping and squeezing to get a seat. Even though the young woman was their age, her nonmanualism made her appear so much older. Instead of a crop top and cut off shorts, she was in a fashioned sort of business suit, hardly showing any skin. Not the girl he remembered from Belleville. But what she was showing was still enough to make men insane. Her composure only popped at the stitching for maybe a minute or so until she was right back to work again. It even occurred to him that he should ask if she was okay or wanted to talk about it. However, Spitz didn't want to make it a piece more of his business. All he wanted was for the night to go smoothly for everyone and keep his ego steadily climbing.
He retrieved another cigar, lit it, and called for the blond bartender's attention, announcing proudly, "Drinks for all the ladies at the bar on me. Any young, beautiful things needing some line of work in fashion, the editor of Du Jour is right here and waiting." He pointed to Jaylene who waved an intimidating hand that brandished a pen.
Jaylene Sullivan
"What? Have something to say?"
It didn't mean to happen - well, she didn't intend for it. But in reply, she sputtered, laughing and gawking at Kaleb. Disbelief, shitty luck and desolation took her in entirety like a tidal wave. What had already started as toxic continued into a worse, venomous onslaught on Kaleb's part. Her stance stiffened, but one heel-adorned foot anxiously tapped against the floor while he talked. She could feel a slight pique threatening to make a more vicious girl from the past resurface - someone she didn't want to know anymore. Kaleb? He had every right in the world to be furious. To feel betrayed. Because she did him dirty. But the way Kaleb was acting was far beyond volatile, his coffee eyes darkening with wide vehemence as his voice grew louder. And she was sure she couldn't have expected him to just get over it, to be okay and give her a 'hello' handshake or a pat on the back or even thank her for having him at the campaign party. The fact that she looked like a dumbfounded child upon catching his stare probably didn't give the best impression either.
When his hand swiped away the envelope containing over five hundred dollars, she gasped with mock disturbance. Really it wasn't surprising but maybe a little painful to know that he was… still exactly who she knew before. Bittersweet but dejecting. She ran a hand through her hair, "Holy shit," she began to deride, her tone a little unintentionally proud, "You're wild eyed. You're still coked out!" Not even a millisecond passed before he shoved her and thundered off. She stumbled back a bit, one hand pressed to her forehead. As much as she wanted to follow him, sweep his silhouette with her eyes and contemplate making amends, she just couldn't.
Spitz was late to intervene, but carrying himself with his usual overconfidence and attempting to eclipse any existing remnants of Kaleb. With ease he stole an armful of Jaylene, hugging her a little to him and making a joke. For a moment, her focal point didn't even remotely involve Spitz.
The oceanic aura of the event she had planned fit so fortuitously over Kaleb. Sheltered sea-colored light followed him all the way through the doors until he had vanished from her life once again. He was an unparalleled image of somehow a happier past life, its seams bursting but sewn over with bad jokes, good parties and corporeal friendships. She suppressed an embarrassed, painful simper as she bit her lower lip then ran her tongue along her bottom row of teeth, "All this time and he's still coked out." Drawing her hand from her forehead, she face palmed and laughed to herself, "Un-fucking-believable."
"Unbelievable? Truth, ma, he probably won't stop. Some people don't change for nothin'. Come on. Come get a drink and sit with me and my new friend, grab ahold of some new models, do your thing."
Even if she wanted to attest, to deteriorate into 'Soda', take Kaleb's side over all other things and bash Spitz in his nose, she couldn't. This time, he was right. Spitz was right! Rather than triumphing over that truth, she felt a little twinge of odd, covetous misery. Silently she grinned, leaned her head into his sternum for a moment then patted his chest with one hand as if to say 'you're right'. But like the words that she couldn't manage with Kaleb, the above did not come either. She shrugged apologetically to Greco before Spitz toted her off to the bar, "Great show. I'll have to put you guys up on more events." Not mine, though, she thought to herself. When they reached the swamped alcohol station, Jaylene managed to ball up all of her affliction and tuck it into the depth of her soul while her outer self began its facade. She pushed the brief case onto the counter top and took a seat.
"I need two shots of Jose Cuervo and my pen and paper. Let me get some shit done with these mannequins." She nudged Spitz gratefully.