Everything in Between ••

[lavinia]

...It wasn't the lust
It wasn't the hate
It was never the same
From the night to the day...

Watching the morning star kiss the rising evening moon on top of a rooftop shindig, Lavinia was doing what she did best, turning the bottles. She had been invited (not hired) to tend a bar at some high office black tie event and being a very well liked woman among the entertainment venues of Clerkenwell (and others below it). Dressed in a very uncommon long black halter dress that clung to frame her long hair was left cascading down her back to mask the face of death (both for tip wise and self consciousness). Not many adorned body art and wore it with a smile. For Lavinia her wings were to smile as the face of death was the reminder the she was always watching with open arms for the last embrace.

With eyes masked in a small layer of black she had already dished out over thirty martini’s within five minutes and enough ‘liquor on the rocks’ to make any alcoholic just wanting more from her fingers. Above the once clear skies darkened and she thanked that this rooftop even was actually within a large glass dome that shielded the patrons from the rain and lightening. Only down fall was she was itching for a cigarette and she only could slip one in if she slid away for a minute. To the growing crowd, fake laughter and cheek kisses… time was going to be slow for her and the two other mixer’s that were a part of the catering than formally invited.

It had been only an hour as she started to wonder on whom really talked to on the phone on getting to come. What was the event for anyways? She assumed it was many of the business men she ran through in getting tips for making drinks to their liking but didn’t really gave time to place a face to the voice over the phone. She was making a risk as is in just going but once she saw the catering van outside the ancient looking building she went along with the ride with dress and heels in hand. Someone must have stated her presence either by stature or past experiences for caters greeted her and informed on where to go.

She had questioned the two tux clad men next to her on what the event was for but they only shrugged their shoulders. It was good pay so no one asked so neither would she. She needed the money for her addictions so she could feel alive and move another day with a plastic smile for her family sake. Slipping in a few swallows as many never looked to the solid dark wood bar when ordering she was at least able to become a little numb during the event within the shadows of a storm. She just hoped she was being asked to perform… maybe that’s the only reason why they needed her; a cheap version of her mother in just a small grasp of money (and booze).

...It wasn't the stripe suit or the running away,
It wasn't the love scene,
It was everything In Between...

[laurise]

She thought she would never get out of there. All the people in one place... so close... it had made her feel like screaming. She had landed a gig at some posh party here in Clerkenwell, and if it wasn't for her needing the money, she wouldn't have come. She wasn't one for the high class soiree scene. This singer's style was more along the lines of the underground clubs as venues, not this huge monster of a building.

The money had been easy enough to get. She was hired for the middle time slot, which was a good sign. What she figured out was first slot was for the newbies. No one was really there yet, so they wouldn't have to worry about sucking it up. Middle slot was for the artist that was known by name. They would get to sing to get the crowd all excited and socializing. It was a good spot for the rising girl, even though she was forced into singing some covers along with her original stuff. Oh well, can't win everything.

She had been told it was a white tie affair, so she had worn a slim black dress that went to about mid-thigh. It was strapless, and the fabric was very plain. So, to spice it up while still following dress code, she had loosely tied a white skinny tie around her neck. She wore her typical black chuck's because she didn't have any other kinds of shoes. Between food and apartment expenses, she didn't ever have much money left over to buy clothes. They were still fashionable, just cheaper.

Making her way upstairs, she had been able to score a few shots from the bartender, exhibiting her fake ID that was a must-have at every party. He barely looked at it. He was really busy making drinks and dealing with those who had already had too many. It was mildly humorous, until all the people had swarmed the bar for another round. Luckily, the girl had made it out of there with only a few people bumping her. She shook inwardly. She wasn't one for touching.

She climbed the stairs that led to the roof, and didn't even see the other woman up there with her. She just continued on to the edge, sighing as she noticed that they were encased in glass. Damn... she needed some fresh air. Putting her hand to her head for a moment, she ruffled her hair in the back. It was done in slight waves, going with the natural style of her dark chocolate locks. Her makeup had been smoky eyes and a bit of lipgloss, but the lipwear had since faded.

Parking her rear on the ground, she leaned against the part of the roof that was raised. She needed to get away from all those people, but the only way was to go back through them. That wasn't happening... no way in hell. The next band was just now starting their second song... another cover. Judging from the four hours she had been here, she figured she would be here at least another six or so before the building was empty. Shit. Tonight was turning pretty rotten.

[lavinia]

Lavinia had gone back up and down from the roof to the floor below; gathering empty glasses filled with trash. Many looked to her either with interest to her body art or the fact she almost was a spitting image of her mother. It didn’t bother her when they stopped her in mid stride as she would pick up drinks to turn around or answer their questions but not even able to get up the stairs with two large circular trays topped with glasses, things were getting ridiculous. Taking her spot back behind the rooftop bar she only glared to the two men that sat there talking to some of the females as if in a stuck trance. Nearly slamming the trays causing the eyes of everyone within a leg distance away to look the men got the point as the woman they were chatting with went along their oblivious ways. Directing them that she was working to make her money and they should do the same; they left the long glowing bar to be manhandled by Lavinia.

She searched for the paper that stated who was performing, it sounded ok but the glass dome they were in just didn’t make things any better for the drums that overpowered everything else. Looking to the patrons that lined her domain conversation some looked to see if smoking was even capable. An elderly man robust in size that could resemble Santa clause cousin asked if they could and with a few looks around saw that there was ashtrays next to a few of the bottles. Sliding a few down the shinned top she looked to the glass wall and found the seams to open up the windows to let a blast of cold air out so she could breath… and smoke.

Pulling out from her black duffle bag under the vision of others he pulled a long black filter and a clover from it. Sure, she was going to get yelled at but to hell with it. Go forth and doc off some of her pay, she will get it all in the next night bar fight fixer upper. Troubling her as she tried to find a lighter the same man got her attention with a flick of his and inhaled the sweet taste of cancer into her lungs. Gathering bourbon on rocks for the man without pay she took her spot in silence far end of the bar near the first open window.

The falling rain within the darkness only reflected the light from within the room she was in; looking to the reflection of the glass windows she caught a small child sitting like she was trying to keep herself from being burned alive by the crowd. Assuming it was another performer she thanked the ones unknown she was not being asked to sing (or hope for the sake). Finishing the clover like a cigarette she half parted her hair and rolled it into a messy bun held by the filter itself as she continued dishing out more drinks being shouted over. At least the crowd was decent enough to let her finish her cigarette.