Relaxation

[Billie Hart]

There was only one reason why Billie, a common street rat, would ever be allowed into such a high brow - or at least 'high-brow' as clubs got - club. Could you guess? Well, if you can't I'll just tell you - she knew the guy who guarded the backdoor. He was a frequent at the restaurant and occasionally she chatted with him casually when he sat near enough to the piano. It only took a few charming words for him to open that door and let her through with a genuine smile. Billie walked past people pressed up against walls with drinks, and occasionally other people. She ignored snooty looks from other girls who were probably in some sort of designer club dress while she was dressed from things she bought from a thrift store. Miraculously, she didn't flip them off or attempt to flirt with them - Billie wasn't into snobs...or obviously high maintenance women.

She wasn't here dance or pick anyone up though - she just wanted a drink and to damage her hearing as much as she could in a few short hours. Billie bumped shoulders with a man as she walked down toward the final stretch of the hall before one reached the club. She didn't blink an eye when he snorted some idiotic response either and just kept walking until she found herself bombarded by flashing lights and loud, obnoxious music. Billie adjusted her fedora and grinned her trademark crooked grin, took a look at the crazy young people grinding grooving on the dance floor before coolly strolling over to the bar and taking a seat.

When she finally got a hold of the bartender's attention, which took a while actually, Billie notice him shoot her an odd look for her unusual appearance for someone in a club. "Captain and Cola." She said curtly as she crossed her legs and watched him slowly nod and scurry off to make her drink. Her steel blue eyes roam over the countless bottles and decorations they lined the inner island of the bar. Did the bartenders actually use those - ever? Or were they for decoration? Billie played with the ends of her scarf, loosening it just a little as she looked around the room. She had to squint and close her eyes from the brightness of the strobe and neon lights - did they have to use those too? They just made it harder to make out the actual attractiveness of the person you were grinding against - maybe that was the point....

The bartender set down her drink, she beamed up at him as she lifted up the glass to her lips. Oh the taste of rum - her favorite! She liked her alcohol strong, she would say that she didn't like playing around, but that phrase is overused and cheesy. Billie licked her lips carefully, still tasting the rum. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around only to lay her eyes on a man who was undoubtedly in his thirties. Billie casually cocked her eyebrow at him as he blurted out some dumb pickup line over the music. She held in a laugh and picked up her drink elegantly with only her fingertips gripping the rim. "Shouldn't you be hitting on someone your age?"

He left after one more biting remark from Billie. She took another sip of her rum and leaned her back against the bar. She needed this, she needed to relax - even if someone here was most likely going to be date raped here, and the music was loud, and the people are obnoxious and snobby toward her. She needed to be somewhere different from the West side, different from her work environment, which was getting quickly boring by the way.

word count;; 641
outfit;; here!
status;; finished!
tag;; open
notes;; Bad post....but.....but.....yeah there is no excuse XD

[Jamie Colburn]

There is something about the human nature that wants to naturally believe that there is some good in everyone. That in even the worst of people, somewhere deep down there has to be some nagging conscience that, though often ignored, was very much there. To those people, I would like to present with James Michael Colburn. When it came right down to it... there really was no good in him. He was the sort of guy who never did anything unless it involved his own personal gain. He found the most amusement in antagonizing other people to the point that he drove anyone and everyone away. He was a ruthless business man with an agenda, and God help the man that tried to come between him and his plans. At 25 years old, he probably deserved the title "most likely to succeed as an extortionist."

Manipulating people's emotions made him feel empowered, and he quite enjoyed his unending ability to drive people completely insane. It was a game for him, annoying people to the point that they were no longer capable of pretending that they weren't bothered by him. No one really knew where this all originated, not even Jamie himself. Even as a child he took pleasure in driving his parents up the wall. Just something about being and influencing factor on other people thrilled him. There was no saying as to why, it just did, and that was that. Of course, he was by no means just some jerk who no one wanted to be around. He had manners, and when there was need for it, he could be quite sociable and delightful, but God forbid that he get bored, because that was when the not so pleasant side of him came out.

On this particular evening, he was bored out of his mind and was definitely in the mood to go bother some people. As he had found from experience, the easiest people to to annoy were those who were looking for an evening out on the town, usually in bars or clubs. He was feeling much too sophisticated tonight to just go pop into some bar, and something told him he would have much more fun at the club, so it was off to the hollywood and vine. The high and mighty rich people there were the easiest targets. They, like him, were full of themselves, and he had found it quite simple to knock them off their high horse, because, unlike him, they really weren't as good as they thought they were. Yes, Jamie was very very full of himself, and there was next to nothing anyone could do to change his mind. He was a tall, attractive male who had managed to become quite successful at a fairly young age. In his opinion, he had no flaws.

So he donned his casual suit and and headed out. He wasn't really planning on bringing anyone home tonight, so he left his car at home and walked. He wasn't one of those rich guys who had to have everything done for him, in fact, he rather liked doing everything for himself. He was possibly the tidiest bachelor in the history of mankind, and he never hired anyone to clean up after him. He never looked shabby or unkempt, and God forbid that there ever be a single hair on his head out of place. Everything he did was very much so deliberate and intentional. There was nothing about him that was accidental. Every move, every glance, every smirk was planned down to the most minute detail. Everything he did had some sort of plan behind it and you could bet he was going to go through with that plan.

However, as much as he wanted people to believe that he was just a heartless jerk who didn't care about anything or anyone except himself, there were times when the guilt for not being around the last year of his mom's life and the shame for disrespecting her in not going to her funeral were just too much for him to deal with. It had been six years since she had died, but even time didn't seem able to make this go away. It was all a lie, what people said, about things getting better with time. It had been twenty years since his dad had died, and he still got a horrible sick feeing in the pit of his stomach every time he thought about him and standing there watching him suffocate because of the selfishness of his grandparents whom he had long since disowned as family.

If anyone bothered to research into Jamie's life, they would find an interesting avoidance of all things involving death. In his scripts no one ever died, when he was working as co-director, he talked them into changing the plot line so that one of the main characters wouldn't die. When his last dog got to the point that it needed to be put down he brought it to the humane society. He deliberately went a round about way any time there was a cemetery between him and his destination so that he wouldn't have to drive by it. He would do whatever he had to in order to avoid the subject which might evoke some emotion in him and show people that he wasn't as horrible as they all thought he was. If anyone brought it up, he would just walk away. It wasn't something he wanted to talk about, and no one could force him to.

When he reached the club, he simply strolled past the man at the door casually yet with purpose. He'd been here enough times, everyone knew who he was, and everyone knew he was over 21, so there was no reason to card him anymore. He was one of those guys who was impossible to forget. Once there, he headed for the bar, as was his usual course of action. He never drank a whole heck of a lot, though some days he could down quite a lot. Tonight was a good night though, so there would be no point in getting himself wasted.

He ordered his drink and stood leaning against the bar, his deviously scheming eyes scanning over the people seeking out someone he could torture. He hadn't been there long when his opportunity arose, though it came to him instead of him having to go to it. A young woman dressed to... not fit in... approached the bar, ordered a drink, and was shortly "hit on" by some guy in his mid thirties. At first his only thought was that the guy was desperate, and judging from the way the girl was dressed, she'd give in and go with him in the blink of an eye, and he wasn't interested at all in what happened between them. Moments later though, his first impression was delightfully proven wrong. As the man shrunk away like a chided dog, Jamie cast a glance at the girl.

You can't blame him, you know. he said with that casual cool that was just natural for him, The way you're dressed just screams desperate and easy. He turned his attention back to his drink as he waited for her response, polishing off what was left of it. He was hoping she would be as interesting as she appeared, it was never any fun when he unintentionally chose someone who was about as boring as playing bingo with old people... not that he had ever done that, but that's besides the point. People fascinated him, but if they showed any indication of being dull or dimwitted he'd be done with them before the conversation could develop into anything. He was bored too easily.

outfit: here

[Billie Hart]

“You can't blame him, you know. The way you're dressed just screams desperate and easy.”

The way he spoke, it was cool as an ice cube. His voice was smooth and crisp like a summer’s night, much like hers. Her eyebrows arch up and she turns her head to look at the man who had spoken to her. She wasn’t insulted, no, no! Billie was hard to insult, especially for a woman, unless you had something on her that you could pick at – such as Zackary or perhaps even Radigan. She merely shot him a crooked grin and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Maybe…that sort of thing is in the eye of the beholder I’d suppose.” Translation? It was her ‘nice’ way of saying: ‘I don’t care about your opinion about my fashion sense – I’m poor.’…That sounds bitchy doesn’t it…well he started it! A blonde in a short spaghetti strap dress walked by, Billie leans over to take a look at her. Her grin widens and she happily leans back, shooting the man next to her a ‘She was hot’ look before downing the rest of her drink.

Billie held back a yawn after a few moments of looking for that blonde proved to be futile. She looked back to the man next to her, a mildly curious look on her face. “So what brings you here – here to fulfill your….” She flattened out her lips and her eyes darted over to the dance floor, full of people grinding and well….dry humping each other like a bunch of baby monkeys. “…Primitive urges?” She chuckled slightly and rolled her eyes at the cheesiness of her phrasing, but at least it was an appropriate phrase for a one-night stand. Her inviting grey eyes don’t waver from him, they search his face for some hidden emotion, but she stops herself before she could find anything in order to turn away, back to the bar. She waves over the bartender and orders the same drink – Captain and Cola.

The bartender set her drink down in front of her and walks off. She leaves it for a moment, letting her pinky finger circle around the rim. She looked back at the man next to her again, looking over him. She was entertaining herself, seeing what she could draw from his appearance alone. Well, he looked nice enough – clothes wise, she already knew that he had a sharp tongue – and so she assumed that he wasn’t one who took a walk on the West side very often. The music was starting to hurt her ears, but she tried to ignore it – Billie didn’t want to leave just yet. All she had to go home to was a small, empty apartment with a radio, a mattress, and a kitchen – this place was much more interesting and I’m sure you’ll agree with that.

Billie’s eyes dart up across the bar, having finally spotted the blonde from before, she must have gone off to powder her nose or something. She was flirting with the middle-aged man from before. Her mind screeches to a halt as it tries to grasp this foreign, and quite frankly, fucked up concept. “Karma’s a bitch….” Billie laughed and took a sip of her drink, how typical, the dumb blonde going for the guy desperate to get laid – probably after getting jilted by his 25 year old girlfriend…but maybe that was just Billie being bitter again.

words;; 570
notes;; BAD POST I'M SORRY TT.TT

[Jamie Colburn]

The eye of the beholder... Jamie just had to roll his eyes at the concept as it was in no way applicable here. If she really looked around to see what people were wearing, she would probably agree that in the current setting, she stood out as someone dying for attention. Out on the street, he would have had no comment to make about the way she was dressed, but because she was in the upscale club of the town she definitely came off as desperate... and if not desperate at least easy. Why else would she be getting such snide looks as if everyone in the room was disgusted with her appearance. Clubs like this always attracted the self-centered, wealthy, trust fund kids who had never had to do anything for themselves, and didn't understand the concept of being poor. Jamie, of course, was one of those wealthy self centered people, but unlike most people here he worked for everything he had, and started out as one of those "penniless college students."

So yes, it was in the eye of the beholder, however, if she didn't want people to judge the way she looked, she probably would have been wise to avoid upscale clubs such as this. Then again... could he really blame her for wanting to be here? They served only the best alcohol there was available, he had made sure of that after buying the place several months back when he moved in. Jamie was a business man, and even though he was now rather "estranged" from the business and was mostly just the name on the paper, when he first bought it, he made sure that everything was perfect. No detail went unchecked, and all patrons of club could rest assured that there was nothing here that portrayed a false sense of quality. So come to think of it, he wouldn't blame her at all for coming here, even dressed in such a manner that would clearly get her more than one judgement.

Her searching for hidden emotion was a futile quest. One look at her and he knew that was what she was doing, and he wasn't sorry to say she was going to be disappointed. Certainly, his expression would often convey exactly what he was thinking. He had perfected the ability to not have to tell someone they were a complete moron but letting them know with just a look. Then there was the smirk, which most would assume would convey an emotion, but not with Jamie. The smirk could mean a million different things. One was a cover up of any sort of emotion, another was that he was pleased with the outcome of something, a third was that his mind was at work on some deliciously devious scheme, and another was that there were times when he absolutely had to make people think he was at least a semi-decent human being, and a smirk was the closest thing they would get to seeing him smile.

At her next question, Jamie couldn't help the "god help you, because I sure as hell can't" sigh before responding. On the contrary, he said with that ever condescending tone, I was simply coming to check in on how the management is running my establishment, and It appears I'll have to fire someone. Can't have one bad apple ruining the whole bushel. As he spoke the final sentence he turned from the glass which had been occupying his attention and fixated his gaze on her, clearly indicating that she was the bad apple. Of course, he wasn't serious, most of the people in this club bored him to death, and he didn't mind a little something interesting and out of the norm being added into the mix, but he had a reputation to uphold, and that was being a complete jackass in every occasion he possibly could... especially when he was out in public, and even more so when he was out in public in a business that he owned.

He followed her attention back to the blonde who she had seemed so interested in earlier, and just shook his head slightly. Pathetic, that one. He said, changing the tone of his voice back to that cool flat and disinterested one from before. No doubt she'd go home with an 80 year old man who lives under a cardboard box if he showed so much as a lick of interest in her. Not worth the time of day as far as I'm concerned. Yes, Jamie did like women... he was a man, of course he did... but Jamie was also attractive and wealthy enough to be selective in the women he was attracted to. Although the blonde was certainly attractive, he couldn't help but shudder at the vibes of stupidity that radiated around her. He didn't want a mindless machine of a woman, he wanted someone who he could actually stand to be around. Back in high school and college he wouldn't have cared about intelligence, but now that he was older and successful, he wanted something more than that.

Slowly and still with only mild interest, he turned his attention back to her. How did you get in here looking like that anyway? he asked, a very slight and barely noticeable actual curiosity piping up in him. Of course, he knew someone had let her in, and it certainly wasn't the bouncer at the door, seeing as he probably knew better than to go against "orders" and allow anyone in who didn't follow the dress code. Most people who worked for Jamie just did as they were told rather than risk being fired. Jamie was heartless, their pleas for a second chance would be futile, so it was best just to do exactly what he said and everything would continue running smoothly. It was a dog eat dog world, and Jamie just loved to be the instigator of the fight.

[Billie Hart]

Billie quickly noted that he had a very good poker face, which in her opinion was very good to have. Her grin widened in anticipation – she loved finding out someone’s ‘tell’ and exploiting it, it was one of her sadistic tendencies. This man had to have one – everyone had one, even her though she had been taught to hide it when she was first taught how to play poker. His tell might take a while to figure it out, Billie was determined to do so. She had to get him nervous somehow, that way lip or eye twitches might surface or perhaps odd fidgeting. Most times, people would either do that or begin playing with their clothes or accessories, such as rings or earrings. They might pull on their ears, quickly look away and then look back every time they answer, or a stutter might become apparent.

He only smirked from what she could tell. The voice in the back of her head told her he knew of just what she was doing, but that didn’t make her stop looking at him. His smirk was like her crooked grin – it never came off his face. Inwardly, she sighed but didn’t break the laid-back expression on her face. He was one of those people with tough shells and a lot of practice at keeping his emotions in-check. Billie nearly began to snicker uncontrollably from this exciting challenge. One might say she needed to find a new hobby, but the poker player just couldn’t help herself anymore, it was just so entertaining to figure people out – to find what makes them tick and squirm.

“On the contrary, I was simply coming to check in on how the management is running my establishment, and It appears I'll have to fire someone. Can't have one bad apple ruining the whole bushel.”

He meant her. Billie burst out laughing, not at him, but at the apt phrase. She was a bad apple; she was a crook – a con who took people’s money. She ruined lives, took savings, and split them with Radigan over borsht. Billie didn’t feel bad or awful or sick about it either, it was their own damn fault for being reckless and falling for her goading. As she calmed down, she looked at this ‘manager’ and gave him a cunning sideways glance. “Yeah, I guess if you have people like me coming in here you’ll lose credibility.” That could mean many things, the most prevalent being a nod to her outfit again and then the other being a nod to the ‘bad apple crack’ with shifter undertones. Billie wasn’t uncomfortable and seemed not to care about this Man’s apparent dislike of her [Billie’s assumption]. Not many people liked her, and she could see why he wouldn’t either – a girl who obviously did not his club’s expectations was not going to make him or his workers look good.

“Pathetic, that one. No doubt she'd go home with an 80 year old man who lives under a cardboard box if he showed so much as a lick of interest in her. Not worth the time of day as far as I'm concerned.”

Billie nodded in complete agreement and took a sip of her drink, it was true – then again there were a lot of girls like that. It was that stereotypical story, the girl with Daddy issues who looked for comfort in any man she could find that would give her the time of day. The sad thing was that they usually became prostitutes or strippers….though the latter were some of Billie’s favorite people. “Honestly, She said, turning her vision across the bar to the blonde and the thirty year old. “I’d still take her home….” She laughed a little at herself. “Guess I’m shallow!” Billie set her half-empty glass down and grinned to herself. It was an honest statement, and Billie didn’t care what sort of insult it might warrant from this man next to her – and she was definitely expecting one.

“How did you get in here looking like that anyway?”

Billie turned to him, looking him straight in the eye. She knew she couldn’t tell him who had let her in, that would get one of Radigan’s customers in trouble which would, in turn, get her into trouble. She maintained her casual smile like a pro nonetheless. He must have known someone let her in, he probably barked orders at that monstrous looking bouncer, telling him to only let in a certain sort of person, in the front all the time. She wondered how he treated the guys who guarded the back doors. “Magic.” She said with a straight face as she picked up her drink again.

word count;; 786
notes;; none

[Jamie Colburn]

A good poker face? How was that for the understatement of the year? Jamie had spent so long perfecting his ability to never show emotion that he was practically unbreakable. There was hardly a thing in existence that could make him crack, and it would take someone very very dedicated to find what those few things were, and would probably involve some serious stalking. Jamie was a rather twisted individual when it came right down to it, but that was what made him who he was, and you couldn't very well set out to change who a person was and expect them to remain that same person.

All of his life Jamie had been so easily bored by everything that he was possibly the most difficult person to keep interested in anything at all. If you were in the middle of a conversation with him and the topic of discussion wasn't entertaining him, he would probably just walk away without a word, or else come right out and say as bluntly as possible that he had no further interest in anything you were saying, and then walk away. To him, if a conversation didn't interest him, it wasn't worth his time, and in his mind, his time was extremely valuable. Yes, by societal standards, he was rude and far too straightforward, but by his standards, he was perfect. It didn't matter to him what people thought of him, if he needed them later he could probably manipulate them into doing whatever it was he needed them for.

That was the thing about Jamie, the opinion of the people around him didn't matter at all. He was his own person, and what they thought didn't matter. Of course, it didn't help that he considered himself better than everyone else, but on the other hand, he was extremely honest. If you asked his opinion, he would tell it to you straight up. If it was an answer he knew you wouldn't like, he wouldn't beat around the bush and try to make it sound nice, he would just come right out and say it. Then again, many people held the belief that you should keep your opinions to yourself, especially when they weren't very good ones. As far as he was concerned, there was no point in having an opinion if you weren't going to share it.

He was clearly currently still somewhat bored with the conversation, but chose to wait it out to see if it would go somewhere or not. When she said that she would still take her home and supposed that made her shallow, Jamie just rolled his eyes. Or equally pathetic. he said in that same droning and disinterested tone as before. Certainly, to a lot of guys, talking to a girl about whether or not she would take another girl home with her would be a bit odd and possibly uncomfortable, but not to Jamie. Oh no, he had seen it all in his line of work, and as far as he was concerned, what sexual orientation you had made absolutely no difference in the world. He was as straight as they came, but he didn't have anything against people who weren't. That was their choice, it was their life.

In the moments of silence that passed between them, he shifted his attention out to the dance floor where most people were making fools of themselves attempting to dance. He rarely brought girls home from the club for this reason. The majority of them were the sort who needed to get themselves totally wasted to have enough confidence to step out there, and in his experience those sorts of girls were the sort that always got attached, and he was typically more annoyed by girls who got attached than by girls who had absolutely no intelligence... and that was saying a lot.

After his question she looked directly at him, clearly pondering what to say as an answer. He knew she wouldn't tell him. Why would she? If he really wanted to know he shouldn't have told her he owned the place before asking her how she got in, but he wasn't that interested, so he wasn't going to beat himself up for not planning that out more carefully. He met her gaze with his still unyielding blank page stare, completely unconcerned with how interested she seemed in searching him. Most people he met, who had a lick of intelligence, were. She, like everyone else, would find nothing. Not even his own family knew that his distanced arrogant jerk facade was just a cover up for his anger at the world... hell, half the time even he forgot that was really all that it was.

As soon as she responded he couldn't help but scoff just slightly. Magic? He said with a horrible sting of skepticism that bordered on disgust, Is that seriously the most creative answer you could come up with? He had been hoping at least for some sort of ridiculously impossible story that she hadn't meant for him to believe, but magic? Just one more reason Jamie was anything but into having relationships with people. They could come off as interesting, then in one little word just completely change his mind. No, he wasn't being over dramatic, he was just so easily bored by everything that he couldn't handle it when people said something boring. The thought of being trapped in a room with a bunch of boring people was his biggest nightmare. How original. He added, muttering slightly as he turned back to the bar. It was a good thing Jamie didn't hire people to wait on him hand and foot at home, he would probably be firing and hiring replacements ever week. He was a difficult man to please, and people usually figured that out quite quickly.

[/size]

[Billie Hart]

Normally, this guy would have already begun to harsh her mellow, but she was partially drunk at the moment so he wasn’t as much of a downer. She laughed at his ‘indirect’ insults, shrugging them off in her buzzed stupor. She finished off her drink and began digging into her pocket for her wallet, her hands and eyes not showing the symptoms of drunken delirium unlike the rest of her body. She had played fine after drinking a few glasses of wine, her eyes and hands were probably the strongest parts of her body…..as sad as that might sound. She didn’t make a habit of drinking before she played. Playing with a blurry mind was probably not a good idea after all. It was probably Radigan’s worst nightmare too. Billie poked through a few wrinkled bills before pulling out what she needed to pay for her drinks. At least she had enough money for booze and rent this time, it didn’t happen too often.

While she waited for the bartender to come back with the little change that was rightfully hers, she clenched her fists a few times – just to remind her how tight they could get with it hurting her. Stupid glass, it was pathetic how weak it probably made her look. She could barely make a fist, no matter how hard she may try, she’d only hurt herself. She remembered Zachary, his face, his smile, his laugh. Her heart sank as her eyes looked for the bartender. The brief moment of sadness didn’t change her default, laid-back expression, perhaps it glimmered in her eyes for a moment or two, but that was it. Billie wasn’t a very overly emotional person, her mind wasn’t very air-tight however, and the thought of her old ‘families’ was never far from the front of her mind.

He sure was slow. Billie covered her mouth as she yawned. She shook her head and stretched, wishing she could just teleport to her apartment and crash on her small, little bed. “Are you always this cheerful mister?” Her grayish blue eyes looked up at him, accented tremendously by her flushed cheeks. She leaned her elbow on the counter and stared at him with a brief flicker of curiosity in her eye. It was gone just as soon as it came. She was still looking for his tell, but the effects of the alcohol was making it much more difficult, but at least her problem-solving and motor skills were still intact and those two skills were fundamentally the only ones she needed.

“Something eatin’ at you?” She quickly turned to thank the bartender as he set down her change. Billie grabbed it and stuffed it into her wallet before putting the little leather flap back into her pocket. “Did your girlfriend dump you or something?” She leaned in toward him and grinned deviously. “Was she a red-head?” Billie laughed and then leaned back in her seat. She was messing with him of course, but there was something pushing a stick up this guy’s ass. Suddenly she felt back for his employees, she even shot the back of the bartender’s head a relatively sympathetic, for Billie at least, glance when he passed them by. Poor guy, having to work for this stickler must really be a drag.

[Jamie Colburn]

Cheery? Oh hell no. Jamie didn't do cheerful. Cheerful was for those horrible little gremlins, lawn gnomes, and the Keebler elf... none of which Jamie would ever allow himself to be associated with. He was far too sophisticated to be cheerful. The closest he would ever get would be slightly enthusiastic, and only when he absolutely had to be... like when he had to pretend to be happy for his brother on his wedding day... being the best man and all. Aside from such instances as that though, Jamie was just a generally unhappy person.

It all started when his dad died... before that he had been a happy and constantly cheerful child... but he was scarred by the experience... and he became noticeably less cheery. After his mom's death some five years ago any and all cheeriness went out the window. He bottled everything up and never under any circumstances let it out... even when he was alone and no one else was around, he never let it out. Emotions made people weak, getting attached to someone just to have them ripped away could demolish everything he worked so hard for. So he convinced himself day in and day out that he didn't care as much as he did. He told the world a lie, and forced himself to believe it too... of course, turning himself into a horribly bitter person who was rarely a joy to be around and honestly not the sort of person people would choose to have in their presence... thus the lack of friends.

Add into that equation the guilt he felt for not coming to see his mom or his family in her last days, refusing to attend her funeral, and ruining the relationships he had with the only family he had left and you had one very unhappy individual who had lived this way for so long that it felt normal to him. He just kept looking for fulfillment in other places... women, money, being busy, spending money on whatever he damn well felt like spending it on, more women, alcohol... and more women. Obviously, he had yet to find it. Despite convincing himself that this lie of a life was the truth, that guilt just kept nagging at him, day in and day out, and he couldn't seem to make it stop. It was like a voice in his head reminding him constantly of what a horrible disappointment he was, no matter how much money he made.

Jamie's expression didn't change at her "teasing" questions or her laughter. For one thing he knew she was trying to figure him out and pin point some form of emotion other than boredom in him, and he wasn't about to let her have that satisfaction. Do you always ask this many questions? he asked, tone still unchanged. Sure, he knew that responding to those questions with that question would probably make her think the answer to the last three was "yes" even though it wasn't. Jamie didn't do girlfriends anymore than he did cheery.

Toying with peoples' minds was something Jamie had come to quite enjoy... not to mention he was a superb liar... probably not a skill he should be proud of, but he was all the same. It took a lot of practice to get good at lying, and he had perfected the art. Truth be told, he wouldn't mind taking this girl home with him tonight. She wasn't like the other people here, and, needless to say, Jamie liked variety. He wouldn't tell her that though... at least not yet. For now, he was going to wait until this proverbial ridiculous line dance on a dotted yellow line in the middle of the highway with her was over with and he had the ball completely in his court... and that would likely require getting more alcohol into her. Of course, considering the women here, who Jamie was and what he did for a living, if things didn't work out the way he would like them to with her, he could get any other girl in this room without a problem... but no doubt none of them would be anywhere near as interesting as she was.

[/size]

note: Sorry so long :/ life got crazy... and sorry so short... muse deserted me.

[Billie Hart]

Billie figured most people would have walked away by now, though most girls with half a brain probably would have been whisked away to his mansion on the hill a long time ago. Call her crazy, but she was enjoying this conversation, when most might be getting pissed or cursing at this guy. At least it wasn't a heavy conversation, sure she got the feeling that it was a battle of insults perhaps, but it was still light and breezy. She could maintain distance and that was what she always wanted. Subconsciously, Billie didn't get close to many people - there wasn't a traumatic or dramatic reason for it, maybe she was just an exclusive person. Or maybe it was actually a defensive mechanism, it wasn't too far-fetched after all, she had never had a stable family environment and her mother was too interested in getting herself married than focusing on her only living kid. Maybe, it was her way of not getting her hopes up for people. Maybe. I'm no psychoanalyst and neither is Billie.

Billie pulls off her glasses by the nose slowly and places them on the bar. They were those plastic, junky kind that were only for show...however some people still thought her vision was inadequate. The red head pulled the brim of her fedora down to the middle of her forehead and then grinned in her usual fox-like way, a look that had become her trademark. The poker player tilted her head toward the club's manager, her eyes still just barely visible under her hat. "Well of course, I'm a curious person after all." Her grin widened slightly after that. Billie was rather fox-like, always smiling and actually very clever - also in appearance if you count the red hair and the way she carried herself. It was why most mean didn't see her as a potential date or even a potential one-night-stand buddy - they usually ended up assuming she was a lesbian straightaway.

"Hold on for a minute." Quite a thing to say if you stuck to the modern ranking in society in a biblical way. A crook like Billie talking that way to a manager to a popular club might surprise most. That didn't cross Billie's mind though, she had seen something she liked pass by and god dammit she wanted to be able to say that she had tried. This chick was her type, at least from her appearance. She had a heart-shaped face framed by long, platinum blonde hair. As Billie stalked her like a lioness stalked a baby wildebeest came closer, she could see the blonde's striking green eyes and plump lips. Billie licked her lip before confidently striking up a conversation with the woman as the blonde waited for her drink.

Billie leaned in slightly, making her flirtatious intentions known through some charming comment. The blonde frowned in disgust, not taking the possibility of having been mistaken for a lesbian insulting. And so, Billie ended up getting a drink spilled on her, yelled at, and then angrily rejected. She stood there for a moment, watching her walk away toward the dance floor. Billie took off her wet fedora and plopped back down near the club manger. "This was my favorite hat too..." She frowned and set her hat over her glasses since she obviously wasn't going to wear it now that it was sticky. Billie pulled out the ponytail and let her hair down, 'fluffing' it up as her eyes finally traveled back to him, if he had remained in his seat of course. Billie extended her hand lazily. "Name's Billie by the way."

words;; 640
status;; finished~!
notes;; that was your 'short'...? D8 ....*BOWS DOWN TO THE ALMIGHTY JESS* I am not worthy....

[Jamie Colburn]

When Billie walked away, Jamie just shook his head and turned back towards the bar, completely uninterested in whatever she was going to do. While he was interested in people and their goings on, especially when they were unlike everyone else, he couldn't be bothered with paying complete attention to a person unless they were doing something that totally fascinated him. One girl absolutely failing to hit on another girl definitely didn't interest him one little bit. So she was into other chicks, he didn't care, she could do whatever she wanted and live however she wanted, he had nothing against it... but he definitely wasn't into it. To be perfectly honest he couldn't care less how a perfect stranger was sexually oriented... but he had absolutely no interest in in any form of "relationship" with any woman who was into other women... he had nothing against it, he just preferred women who were only into men... and he was one of those guys who could afford to be picky.

He finished off his drink and set the glass on the counter, waiting patiently for it to be filled. Of course, it was done promptly, seeing as he was the owner and all, and it was always good to keep the owner happy... it was one of the best ways to get yourself a raise, you never knew when Jamie might decide you were worth the money, and toss in a bonus without saying anything about it. He was in the middle of the drink when an ever so slight commotion broke out, catching his attention. Apparently the girl Billie was attempting to hit on didn't take it kindly... just as he would have expected. She was in the wrong place if she was looking for some... partner. The girls here were generally into guys, that was why they were here. Why else would they be out there grinding on complete strangers in what appeared to be some sort of sick mating ritual... this so called "dancing."

When she returned and complained about that having been her favorite hat which was now ruined by the alcoholic beverage that had soaked it, he just rolled his eyes. "Get over it." he said, clearly uninterested in the fate of said hat. He personally had a thing against hats, they were only a horrible attempt at covering up something someone didn't like about themselves. Whether they did consciously it or not, they were using it to hide something. Maybe it was a hairline, the shape of their head, a blemish, roots showing when colored hair started growing out. Whatever it was, it was something people didn't want to see, and it annoyed him. Yes, he liked beautiful women, but he didn't like beautiful women who were so insecure about how they looked that they tried to hide it.

"It's a hat, not a puppy." He finished off the drink and set the glass on the counter along with the tip, then stood up and started away. He was bored, and when he got bored he never stuck around. There was always something out there that could interest him more than whatever it was that was boring him. The crowds seemed to part for him as he walked through. Most people around here knew who he was, and if they didn't know who he was for his television career they knew he was the owner of the club and so much as a wrong look and he could have them thrown out, and that wasn't what they wanted. It was like the red sea parted as people got out of his way. This was what Jamie loved about his reputation. Feeling that sort of power was what he lived for.

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