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Post by Claire Marie Avila on Apr 1, 2012 21:23:34 GMT -8
 It's been a long time since I came around,
Been a long time but I'm back in town,
This time I'm not leaving without you...Every weekend was always the same. You worked when a bunch of guys, who either hate their life, or just want to be assholes to women, would come to the bar to drink and let their words slur. Words coming out of their mouth making you wonder if their mother's even taught them any manners at all in the many pathetic years that they were living with them. Weekends at work were always the worst. Every if it was only two days that you worked. Fortunately, for the guys, us girls had to dress slutty and skanky, just for the sake of all those tips we get on those two days. You would be surprised how much money we make on the weekends compared to working on week days. Unfortunately there weren't many women working here, so the women who had the best bodies were the 'lucky' ones to work on the weekends. It pays better, but why would you want to be someone who has to take everything, especially from a guy. You had no upper hand.
The thing is, it was not voluntary. You were chosen for that spot, and you should be proud of it. Blah, blah, blah. It was drilled into your head that you must take that position with pride. My eyes always roll when our manager repeats himself on those weekends when girls come to him complaining. Now it was either work without complaining, or lose your job. In LA you couldn't find a job unless you had previous experience in that job. I was a waitress in New York where I grew up, so I had a job once I first moved here. The Famous Sports Bar & Grill was where I was hired, and let me tell you, it was not the best place to earn your respect. The men here were as assy as you could get, except for those few guys who were just in there to catch a break, but those were few around here.
My black stiletto heels clicked on the cement as I stepped out of my black Chevy Cruze. It was a car that I saved my money for, as well as my trip here. I clicked the lock button on my keys, hearing that familiar beep sound as my doors locked. I placed the keys into my purse, hiking it on my right shoulder and headed toward the back door fo the building. Opening the door, seeing the feather ring on my finger gleam in the back light. I brushed my fingers through my hair, setting my things in my locker in the back room, locking it with my lock, hearing a click as it locks. Flipping my hair once in the bathroom to make it look wild, and applied some lip stick. I frowned in the mirror, knowing this night was only going to end up worse when the rush comes in.
Smoothing out my shirt and shorts, I walked into the bar area, placing my apron around my waist, already hearing guys whistles and hollering at the sight of me. I just rolled my eyes, sighing. Leaning over to get one guy's order. Our job here was to keep the drinks coming and keeps the guys tipping us, no matter what it took. That was the scary part, we have had some waitresses quit because of that part of the whole job. Handing the guy his drink order, I took a shot for myself, knowing this was going to be a long night, I might as well loosen up. I turned to see a tall man walking into the bar. My eyes instantly focused on him, dark hair and eyes, the way he was dressed. He was probably just another one of those asshole men that were here to ruin a girl's work night, but who was I to judge a man by his cover, or in this case, choice of clothing.
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Post by Damien "Rocco" Edwards on Apr 2, 2012 10:20:49 GMT -8
He opened his eyes slowly, light glaring through the windows of his apartment in L.A. It was the same shitty place he lived in when he was twenty and trying to get a role in a well paying movie, which he ended up achieving when he was 21. Now, nine years later, he was laying in a king sized bed, staring up at the cottage cheese ceiling. He wasn't used to having people over, especially at this place, but the night before there were around twenty people in the four walls of his very small second home. They were a tame group, and for the most part they were at the deck on the disgusting pool. No one went home until around 5 in the morning, and he was sure he would be getting a notice for the loudness of the group.
He sat upright in his bed as his cat, Wimpy, rubbed against him. "Guess your hungry, huh?" He said, the cat being Siamese immediately answered with a quiet meow, rubbing even more fiercely on the back of his person. Eventually Rocco did stand and walk to the small kitchen area where he grabbed a can of cat food, flipped it open, and dropped it on a paper plate located near the fridge. He would step in the remains of the food an hour later just after a shower.
He yawned several times while fingering pomade through his hair, giving it a clean, yet messy sort of look. Nothing too ridiculous, just enough to tousle it a little. Back at his home in Long Beach it wouldn't have mattered how he looked, he could just throw a beanie and hoodie on and go to the store, but in L.A they judged you mercilessly. He threw on some expensive looking clothes, mainly being nice jeans, a blue button up shirt, a watch, nice shoes, and sunglasses, and he was ready to head out.
He was meeting with one of his friends turned producer. He didn't like his producer's at times, and Peter ha changed from a nice guy to a real asshole. Living the high life in L.A and Hollywood really changed the guy after college. But, he was helping to fund his newest project, and wanted to meet with Damien at some bar and Grill. It was easier to drive in Los Angelis than it was in New York, so instead of opting for his bike, he pulled up his Mercedes keys and dropped down into the parking garage where his beloved, sleek, black car was hiding.
It took him nearly ten minutes, but he did end up avoiding most of the traffic through the main streets and instead took a few side roads and was soon pulling up to the Valet. The young man looked at his car in envy, and Damien smiled at him, "Take good care of her," he said, handing him fifty bucks. The kid smiled and jumped into his car, driving it carefully to the back of the lot. He smiled and walked through the doors of the Bar and Grill. He saw a pretty woman working the bar, her white blond hair cascading down her shoulders. She was probably one of the usual stuck up girls who worked at places like this.
He looked over the bar, finding Peter's heavy set build not too far from the girl. His was red faced as usual, having already drank too much, and was seemingly harassing her. He sighed and shook his head, making his way over to him. He smiled pleasantly and waited for her to come by again so he could order his usual martini mix.
"Hey Pete," he said casually, looking over his shoulder at the girl who was still on the other side.
"Well look who it is, the one and only..." But Rocco cut him off.
"Not tonight Pete, I'm laying low." Pete just laughed.
"Yeah, well if Miss Thang over there would get her pretty little ass to walk back an' get yer order!" He yelled distinctly at her. Damien sighed, shaking his head.
"You realize it isn't their choice to work alone on such heavy nights, right? Give 'er a minute." He folded his arms across his chest as he looked over the gruff man. He'd gotten so fat over the years. "Look, I have stuff to do, so could you get on with what you have to say?"
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Post by Claire Marie Avila on Apr 2, 2012 15:09:23 GMT -8
It's been a long time since I came around,
Been a long time but I'm back in town,
This time I'm not leaving without you... Guys were all the same, ass holes with lives that contain harassing females when they were working. In the past they did not even like it when women were taking their jobs, and this is the thanks we get for helping them out during the war? Pathetic. Worthless. Only good for staying at home cooking and cleaning, watching the children. I have yet to meet a man who is anything but and ass. Besides my brother, those were very hard to find in this area. Los Angeles was the places of big, high, rich snobby people, and me, I was hired by someone who only wanted me to work because of my body. You never see an overweight girl working here, it just was not professional like, according to my manager. Especially on the weekend when we are required to dress this way. Short shorts, low cut tops, tanned legs.
Where is she? My co-worker was suppose to be working tonight with me, like she always does. Sarah was her name, Sarah Dunn. I swear, that girl can not tell the difference between shaken and stirred. She was suppose to work with me tonight, but she was no where in sight. It happened a lot with her, but I have learned to work it all myself on these busy nights. I placed a Cosmo on someone's tray, hearing someone call me to attention. I cleared my face of any emotion and looked in the direction, about ready to tell him to calm himself and be patient. That is, until I noticed that the tall hansom man was standing beside him. I stopped in my tracks, liquor spilling out of the glass i was pouring. Cursing, I grabbed a towel and wiped up the mess, setting the glass aside and tossed the towel in the bin.
My heels clicked on the tile ground and I slung the towel over my shoulder, setting the drink down on a coaster for the man, grabbing his empty glass. "Here's your drink." I spoke, a slight bitter tone in my voice. "And maybe next time, do not call me Miss Thang." My eyes traveled over to the dark haired man next to him. Instantly my emotions went back to my old self, smiling lightly at the man, running my hand through my hair to move it from my face. The guys' eyes were deeply set, with a sexy kind of demeanor to his face. He looked like he would not belong in a place such as this. My heart seemed to long for such beauty, my mind wondering if he was just like all the rest of the guys here, hungry for sex and ass.
"What can I get you?" I asked, knowing the many answers I get are cheap pick up lines. None of them were remotely original to the man speaking them. One night I've heard the same line six times, rolling my eyes every single time. People had no originality around here. My eyes stayed on the man's, luring me in.
words``516
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Post by Damien "Rocco" Edwards on Apr 2, 2012 15:36:25 GMT -8
He caught her eye while she was pouring her drink, an he chuckled when the drink topped a little and spilled to the ground. Yeah, it was more work, but it was kind of cute. Peter wave at her once more before looking back at Damien, "You know, this whole messy hair thing is going out of style," His voice was getting thick, as if he were going to ask if he could manage Rocco, for the fifth time.
"Not for me," He replied stiffly. The only thing he wanted from Peter was his money, no matter how whorish it sounded. The lady behind the bar walked up with Pete's drink in hand, sassin' him back about not calling her "Miss Thang" Damien laughed, turning his head and trying to make it sound like a cough. He guessed he was a good enough actor, for Pete didn't even look his way.
"Careful Girly, there are a lot worse things I can call you." He said it under his breath though, he wasn't as tough as he wanted to seem to be. "What can I get you?" She asked, lightening a little when she looked over to Damien. He shrugged looking at his hands for a moment before answering, "Martini, just the one, and put his drinks on my tab," Pete laughed aloud and patted his back, hard.
"So, how's the script goin'? What's Johnny Boy think of it?" He asked over his drink. It was a heavy looking thing that was most likely very expensive. Rocco knew that he didn't like John, who really was a nice guy, really talented at writing too. He was helping Rocco with the new script. Peter was just jealous that he wasn't in on the plot yet.
"He likes it, I think he is taking a break though. I talked to him this morning, guess he's takin' the wife and kids to Hawaii for a couple days." He was happy for the guy, especially since he was hardest working man Damien knew. But instead of pretending like he was happy, Pete just blazed on a drunkards rant, "That bastard!" he said, "There is still so much work to do! You only have five months to finish the second half of the screenplay, Darcy already said it would fall through if it didn't happen by then!"
Damien threw up his hands, "Whoa there big guy, its not a big deal. We got through eight scenes last week. Let the guy take a break, he deserves to spend some time with his family," he dropped his hands, only to run one of them through his hair. Pete was flabbergasted.
"How can you take his side? The man hardly does anything..."
"Hardly does anything? Johnny has written most of the script, the only thing I do is go through and pick it apart a little bit. on't go knocking down doors you don't know, it's not right." He shook his head. It was starting to get warm in the building, as more and more men joined the scene. A few more workers entered the bar and more girls were sent out onto the main floor. He was starting to get disgruntled by Peter, an watching the near rape of the ladies working the floor didn't help.
He just sat straighter and took a deep breath, "Alright, so we have five months. I only have twenty more scenes, and if it all goes like it did last weeks, I think it will work."
Peter just scoffed, drinking down his drink and calling to the girl again.
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Post by Claire Marie Avila on Apr 2, 2012 20:38:35 GMT -8
It's been a long time since I came around,
Been a long time but I'm back in town,
This time I'm not leaving without you... A glance at the clock only showed that I been working for only thirty minutes. It was going to be a long night. Nights like these when I wish we had more women here that were willing to work at the bar on weekends. More and more drink orders pour in as more people show up, it was enough to drive you insane. Once a male human has one cup of liquor, slurs of orders get thrown at you. I have been working here enough that I am so used to making sure everyone was happy, even those who can not even learn to keep themselves happy by themselves. Sure they had women with them, some at least, but the ladies looked bored. It was even entertaining to watch as one leaves the man's side and sits with someone else across from them, then that was when the fights started.
For it was men like the chubby guy, that set me on edge. Something would happen to his drink tonight, whether it be adding something in there to make it taste bad, or mixing it with enough other drinks to give him alcohol poisoning. We had to take a class on what had to be done behind the bar, including a chart of what 'not' to mix with each other, including a list of things that would happen if you did. I noticed the dark haired man's hidden laugh, and even smiled lightly, in spite of myself. My hearing may not be the best, but I learned how to pick someone's voice out of a crowd, something I picked up from my teacher at school. So when I hear the chubby man's voice uttering the sentence, "Careful Girly, there are a lot worse things I can call you." I tend to keep that in mind.
Instinctively, I started talking to myself, not realizing how long I really was. "And if your not careful, I'll slip something into your drink that will make you wish you did not come here tonight, you chubby old fart." I muttered, my eyes going wide, unsure if anyone heard me. I just wiped my hands on my apron and cleared my throat. "I'll get that Martini for you." I spoke to the dark haired man, smiling a bit and turned, my hair flying behind me, running a hand through it and shook my head, calming myself. The man was really starting to get on my nerves.
As a conversation began to form between the two, I moved to the other side of the counter, where the register was, and touched the screen, transferring all the drinks to the tall man's tab. I began to listen to the conversation as I walked back over to the fountain. More girls started pouring in, but none of them were here to work the weekend. It looked like I would be on my own tonight. I grabbed a martini glass from the shelf and set it on the counter. Then the chubby man started to raise his voice. I instantly looked over at him, annoyed and irritated look on my face, seeing the dark haired man raising his hands in surrender, hearing his defense. This time the drink did not overfill as I watched him. I ran some sugar over the edge of the martini, and added a cherry.
Bunching all my hair to the right side, I caught a hand waving in my side vision. With a sigh, I grabbed the glass, taking it over to the man and set it down on a coaster, smiling. "Here's your drink." I said kindly, my green eyes looking at his, then turned to chubby. "Another glass of the same drink for you? They say if you change it up your life gets happier and less stressful." I remarked, a hand on my hip as I stared at him.
words``751
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Post by Damien "Rocco" Edwards on Apr 2, 2012 21:06:38 GMT -8
Damien chuckled at what the waitress said, because he knew Pete wouldn't hear it. Though he wasn't that old, his weight seemed to ad age, and a receding hairline. He nodded his appreciation to the girl as he sipped at the drink, it was really good. He popped the cherry out and set it down, it wasn't his favorite choice. She asked Pete if he wanted something else, and though he seemed to think her attitude towards him had turned around, Damien could see otherwise.
"No, thanks. I'll continue wif' what I got." Damien frowned, his forehead furrowing. He would probably have to call Pete's wife before the end of the night. Besides that he would probably end up calling it out a little early, the man could really run up the tab. Rocco looked back at the lady, sorrow and regret in his eyes. She was definitely getting a good tip for dealing with this sucker.
"What the hell happened to you? You were always so laid back in College, now your hating on John and trying to have sex with new recruits while 'interviewing' them to work with your producing company. What's next? You're gonna divorce Sheryl and leave her with the kids?" Pete's face turned red as he looked Rocco up and down, probably in his attempt to come back at him.
"It's none of your damn business what I do with MY company," he said, or rather, yelled at Rocco, "If I choose to only hire ladies after they've given me some head, I'll damn well do it!" His face was turning darker and darker with every moment that passed between them, and he was pretty sure he knew what was coming up. When the waitress returned to drop off the drink, Peter grabbed her boob as if she had no choice in it.
"Damn you Pete, who the fuck do you think you are?" He said, shoving him off the bar stool and down to the ground, "You lazy fuck, why are you like this?" He pulled his phone out of his pocket and walked away, dialing Pete's wife whilst watching two very large bouncer head his way. He put the phone to his ear just as she answered.
"Hello? Rocco?" She answered.
"Yeah, hey there Sher, Pete's at the Famous, he's off his damn rocker." It was short and to the point. He could hear her sighing over the phone, and with a quick "alright," she hung up and he knew she was on her way. By then, one of the bouncers was picking Pete up from the ground as he was still rolling around like the pig he was, asking people for help. The big guy ended having to haul him and throw him out, all the while he was yelling at Rocco, "Yev' lost my money Rocco, Lost it!"
"You got no business startin' shit," he said, grabbing him by the arm. The bouncer may have been stronger, but Rocco was taller and no where near being weak. "I wasn't starting anything. I was pushing him off the bartender, now get your fuckin' hand off me." The Bouncer looked over at the lady and let go of Damien's arm, suggesting that he find another club to jump.
"I'll tip the Tender, first." He said, straightening his shirt and pulling out his wallet. "I'm real sorry about that," He told her, handing her his card, "Some people just can't handle Hollywood."
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Post by Claire Marie Avila on Apr 2, 2012 22:04:34 GMT -8
It's been a long time since I came around,
Been a long time but I'm back in town,
This time I'm not leaving without you... Already chubby was slurring his words, and he was only on his third drink of the night. Some men just could not handle drinking in 'moderation', nope, they just downed every single drink that was given to 'em. Now shots are understandable to take in one swig, but when it's in a medium sized glass, please, drink it slowly. More and more drinks were ordered, and I made sure to make chubby's the last one on my list to make. I grabbed orders from some of the other men, who were more polite than this fatty, and stickyed them against the fountain, pouring all the drinks in each glass, setting them in order of how they were to be served.
I walked over to the men, feet starting to hurt in these damn shoes, and placed their drinks in front of 'em. I collected tips from those who had left while I was pouring, and I slipped those into my apron pocket. I walked back over to the fountain, and pulled a slip for fatty's drink next. I set the paper down, smiling to myself in a wicked way, quickly wiping it away when I turned and squatted down to the lower shelf, grabbing two types of alcohol and placed it on the counter. These two drinks should never be mixed together, and all the bartenders knew that. With a quick glance around for the manager, I popped the top of the two bottles and added a small amount of each into his original drink, placing the bottles back in their places. All it took was a small amount of each to give someone a terrible night to remember, drowning in their own vomit.
I flipped my hair to the side, cleaning up the counter with a damp rag, dreading that short amount of time I would have to take up of my day and walk back over to the drunken idiot and hand him his drink. I set the rag inside the bin, reorganizing the glasses on the shelves, hearing more yelling, then some profanity. The most disgusting part was hearing about the sex the idiot was having with his new employees, hiring 'em after they give him blow jobs. I was pretty sure he probably let 'em keep their jobs, as long as they were to pleasure him in anyway he pleased. I shuttered at the thought, already grossed out at hearing the blow jobs.
Finally, with a loud sigh, running my fingers through my hair, I grabbed his drink, stirred it once more before clicking my heels over to the bar where he sat, placing the drink on the counter. "Here's your drin-" I gasped and pulled away, backing up quickly as fatty's hand grabbed my boob. I smacked his hand away and groaned with disgust. Watching as the dark haired man shoved him off the stool bar and then got on the phone. I made a face, fixing my shirt and pulled my hair back for a moment, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. Opening my eyes when the man cursed at the bouncer, reaching into his back pocket Grab his wallet.
I nodded to the bouncer, watching as he helped his partner haul chubby from the place. Catching a few eyes of the customers around the bar and tables before they went back to eating. I sighed, both hands through my hair as I hear him talking, reaching to grab the card. "At least some know how to handle it just fine." She spoke, referring to him. Walking over to register, taking my shoes off and placed 'em under the shelf, knowing the manager was probably busy in his office, making out with an employee. Running the card through the system, I hit 'print' for a receipt and wrapped it around the card. My name was put into the system when I clocked in, so he would see it there. Walking back over, bare feet hitting the tile, making my height shorter, I placed the card on the counter for him. "Thanks for choosing Famous Sports Bar & Grill Mr. Edwards." She spoke, smiling as her green eyes looked at him one last time.
words``707
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Post by Damien "Rocco" Edwards on Apr 2, 2012 22:26:06 GMT -8
It took ten minutes for Sheryl to come and pick Pete up. She gave Damien a hug when she saw him, and he ended up telling her what he knew about her husband. He couldn't stand what Pete was doing to her and kids. But Sheryl was strong, and she had her own business going. It would be tough for her at first, but he was sure that she was better off. She thanked him with another big hug, acknowledgeing that she knew something was up, just that she didn't know the specifics.
"You're a great friend, Damien, and though I know you don't like Peter, I know your a good man," He nodded, saying thanks.
"Drive safe, and let me know if you need help in court," She would get divorce papers signed soon enough and have her kids safely away from him. She was too smart to let him take over her life, and Pete would know how much her needed her soon after things were complete and they were legitimately divorced.
He couldn't help himself as she walked away, his eyes almost immediately traveling to her butt. He noticed that he heels were off, and she was noticeably shorter. He looked away before she had turned back with his card and receipt in hand. He opened his wallet an pulled a hundred from the deep recesses, "For your trouble..." he said, handing it to her. He truly, honestly felt bad for her. Besides, he could afford to spend a little extra on someone so pretty.
"Thanks for choosing Famous Sports Bar & Grill Mr. Edwards," she said, and he smiled a real smile at her, "I never caught your name," he said, watching as another girl walked behind the bar. It must have been another co-worker. She was pretty, but this girl was beyond her by a major comparison. He wondered if it was coincidence that every girl in the bar was blonde and beautiful... probably not.
"So what time do you get off of work? Maybe I could take you out for a bite with less... you know... Jerks?" He hoped he sounded innocent, he honestly wanted to treat the girl for her service. He knew he would have knocked Pete on his ass if he had been her, and long before he had done it, too. He didn't know what it was about her, but she had this calming demeanor, and yet all at the same time she was a firecracker. He liked her, a lot, and they hadn't really shared more than a couple of polite words. She hadn't even thanked him for knocking Peter over.
He remembered catching a glimpse of her when he let Pete understand that he knew what he was doing behind his wife's back. She was truly and utterly disgusting, and for some reason ha had this great need to let her know that he wasn't associated with that man for any great reason. He watched her for a minute, waiting for an answer.
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Post by Claire Marie Avila on Apr 3, 2012 0:49:04 GMT -8
It's been a long time since I came around,
Been a long time but I'm back in town,
This time I'm not leaving without you... The shock of the moment seemed to die down, and business picked up again. I was still smiling at Damien, my smile still painted on my face, eyes looking down as he handed me a one hundred dollar bill. I gasped, looking back up at him. "You really do not have too. I have to deal with people like him every weekend, its no big deal." I replied, happy he even made the generous offer in the first place. When he smiled, it felt like my every being just melted into place. I held back a little giggle, backing up to place the hundred into my apron pocket, sighing as I heard someone walk up behind me. It was Sarah, she finally showed up for her shift tonight, and boy was I glad she did, that meant I could get off earlier.
Hearing him ask the question, I turned to face him, leaning against the counter, hair pulled to my left side now, folding my hands. "My name is Claire. Your receipt also has it printed on it." I winked one quick time, and pushed off the counter, grabbing the glass for chubby and dumped it down the sink. I was a tad upset that chubby did not have a chance to drink it, would have made my night, having him go home and be miserable in the bathroom. I cleaned up a little, asking Sarah to take over a couple of orders for me, after all, she was an hour and a half late.
I looked at the clock, has it really been two hours since I have started working? Guess time flies when you have entertainment at the bar. I laughed once at the thought, one small quiet short laugh. I turned and walked over to Damien again, leaning against the bar, listening to him speak, seeing another smile, which in turn made her smile herself. "Well since my co-worker is here, I get off in three hours." I explained, smiling a bit as I heard someone getting a little flirty with Sarah. I only rolled my eyes, knowing she would be fired one of these days. I loved working with another co-worker named Melinde, she was the best person to work with. We got things done twice as fast, leaving us with nothing to do for a while.
"Oh, and thanks for knocking puggy over on his ass. If I was not in so much shock I would have punched him straight across the face." I chuckled once, "Meet me in the back parking lot in about two and a half hours? Sometimes we close up early." I explained, smiling once before returning to my work, seeing some customers getting irritated with the lack of drinks. I grabbed their glasses and started the refills.
Almost three hours have pasted, only a few handful of people were even in the bar at one in the morning. This bar was not as big and famous as most people would believe. We had sister bars that were open 'til six in the morning. I cleaned up with a damp rag once more before grabbing my things, slipping my shoes on and said my good bye to Sarah. Clocking out, I grabbed my keys from my purse and headed out the door, ready to go home and pass out on my bed.
Next thing I know I'm being pushed against the wall, a piece of cloth covering my mouth. I began to panic, dropping my keys and struggling against the man. I tried screaming, but that got me no where, the piece of cloth was keeping anything from coming out of my mouth. My eyes focused on the eyes of my captor, going wide. "I have been watching you, and I like what I see. Now if you scream, it could end very badly for you... no, no, no, do not struggle against me, or my force only gets rougher." I whimpered a little bit, hearing his rough voice and smelled his breath, which had the smell of cheap whiskey.
He moved his face closer to mine, whispering in my ear. "Now hold still, I really hope your not a virgin." He chuckled, keeping one hand on my mouth, the other one reaching to tear my shirt, which he did a little, grabbing my boob and squeezed it, a small cry of protest escaping my lips. He only chuckled, seeming to get a rouse from the small noise. His hand then went into my shorts, and that's when I really pushed against him, clearing that cloth from my mouth for a split second for me to scream, make any sort of noise to attract anyone's attention, hoping Damien really was there when I told him to be. Then a hand hit my face, slapping me straight across the right cheek, striking me with a blow that sent me falling to the ground, a cry of pain escaping me. I felt my ankle twist with my damn shoes, crying out in pain as I heard him speaking, seeing my stumble.
"What did I say about keeping quiet?!" He leaned down, knocking me against the wall, my head hitting it, hearing a slight crack, black threatening to cloud my vision. I screamed again, only to get another smack across the face, my hair being pulled back so that he was looking me straight in the face. My eyes unfocused as I stared at him, a wicked expression upon his face. "Now your going to regret it." He exclaimed. He began to unzip his pants. I closed my eyes, knowing no one was coming to my rescue. My vision began to fade as I saw a figure running toward the man and I in the distance, everything going black.
words``978 WOOT!!!
notes``Yo! He could like take her to his place, making sure she is okay, and she could be out for a day or two recovering, lol, good idea? Then they could really get to know each other.. But her bar clothes are still on, just a blanket covering her so she doesn't think bad of him?? Just an idea ;-)
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Post by Damien "Rocco" Edwards on Apr 3, 2012 8:12:27 GMT -8
"You really do not have too. I have to deal with people like him every weekend, its no big deal." It was like she was shocked when he went to hand her the money. She certainly deserve it. "No, I insist," he said, closing her hand around the cash while smiling at her again. He caught himself really staring into her eyes, and as a man, he could feel an external part of him stirring. "My name is Claire. Your receipt also has it printed on it." He laughed at that. "Yeah, but that would make look away from your pretty face," He knew he sounded dumb, but he thought it was a nice thing to say, too. Claire went on to thank him for knocking Pete on his ass, and he told her "No problem, I think I lost his money though." He was laughing about it, though. He was really just being frugal when it came to the movie, and had already planned on putting some of his own fuel behind the package. John would be ecstatic when he told him Pete was off the Producer's list. After she handed me the bill, Rocco ended up leaving for a small restaurant a couple minutes away. He hadn't eaten yet, and he knew of a place that stayed open later. Famous Bar and Grill wasn't really known for their food so much as the alcohol.
He walked up to the valet with his ticket an picked up his car, driving off slowly, catching Claire hard at work behind the bar. She was so pretty. He ended up ordering a steak at the place he went to, a little french restaurant, and ate it slower than usual. He drove back to the bar in silence, not really thinking about anything. He surely felt better now that he had food in his belly and some water in his system. Even if he did drink a little more than usual, he was by no means drunk, and wouldn't have a head ache the next morning so long as he drank water first thing.
He pulled into the back lot without a second glance from a man who was standing on the corner, and only after he steppe out of his car could he hear violent rustling, hard breathing, and murmurs by the back door of the bar. Then he heard it, an ear piercing scream. He raced over to where it was happening and gasped in shock, pouncing onto the man like a raging tiger, pulling him into the air and throwing him against the wall.
"What the fuck, man?" The man said, but he didn't give him a chance to fight him, slugging him in the gut, and then kneeing him between the legs. "You like that, fucker?" He aske as the threw him to the ground. The man was hunched over, clutching his privates. Rocco slung his leg back like a star soccer player and kicked him hard in the gut. " If I ever see you again I'll kill you." He yelled at him, walking over to Claire, who seemed to be unconsious on the ground by the building. He knelt down, laying a hand on her shoulder, an pulling her pants back up and buttoning them. He had a tank top on under his long sleeved button up, so he pulled that off as well and pulled it on and buttoned it on her carefully.
But it's not like he was going to leave her. No, he picked her up like she was a small child and cradled her against his chest, walking her to his car and setting her down carefully in the passenger seat. It had been running all this time. He looked back to see the man was missing from site. When he sat down and shut the door, he saw in the rear view mirror just in time to move out of the way of a rusted out mustang heading for him at ramming speed. Instead of being able to stop, though, he collided straight into the wall. He backed out of the parking lot too quickly for people to see that he had been in their, hoping that the man was dead.
He didn't stick around, that was for sure heading straight back to his apartment. He had to sling her over his shoulder while he climbed the stairs and opened his door, but when he was done he set her in his bed and covered her with the clean blankets, turning on the over head fan in case it got too warm in the house. He was so stunned over what just happened, that it finally hit him. He couldn't believe she was almost raped. A little part of his inner self told him "Congrats, you a hero," and another part reminded him that a man died. "He deserved it," he said aloud after he had shut the door to his bedroom and headed to the kitchen. After he set the coffee maker to delay, he went ahead and laid on the couch turning the flat screen onto the news.
"... There aren't any security cameras on the employee parking lot, which ,according to the owner of Famous Bar and Grill, will be going in directly after the repair work to the wall. As of now, the man is in intensive care at Hollywood Memorial Hospital, but he is not expected to live. Experts say..." He sighed. He hadn't killed anyone. The man killed himself when he was trying to ram into his car. He had to be going eighty miles an hour when he went to ram him.... He sighed again, closing his eyes and falling asleep just before he could think about the girl in his bed one more time.
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Post by Claire Marie Avila on Apr 3, 2012 13:31:29 GMT -8
It's been a long time since I came around,
Been a long time but I'm back in town,
This time I'm not leaving without you... Life for some people was easy, for others life was a hard, then there was the occasional life is a bitch. As I grew up my life was just a living hell, no luck in it at all. I got by it all, but not without some hard work. I worked my ass off since I have moved here, and I can see where its landed me, over the shoulder of some smoking hot director named Damien Edwards. Thank the Lord that he was there in time to stop something to terrible. Never in my life have I ever thought that I would get jumped. It chills me to the bone just to think about the moment.
It seemed like everything in my life flashed before my eyes, everything a blur as I closed my eyes and waited for the man to rape me. Only it never came. Blacking out did not always mean I was completely cut off from the world. My traumatized body was still reeling from the time of it all. My ears picked up some heavy breathed, then voices, voices that were not clear to me, but one voice was familiar. My whole body began to give away, sending me into a dark abyss, pulling me deeper in. I was no longer in control of my being, my mind, my body, everything was dark.
Two days had passed, my eyes began to flutter open, adjusting to the change of lighting. My head was pounding and my eyes were blurry at first, but they began to scan around the room, blinking before everything came into focus. A frown crossed my face as I sat up, slowly. I finally was able to sit up straight and finally get a good clear view of the room. My eyes kept going a bit blurry around the edges, threatening to cloud my vision again. I rubbed my eyes, seeing I still had my make-up still on. I frowned again, looking down to see my clothes still there from that night.
My shirt was ripped, and my hair a total mess. My hand went to the back of my head, feeling a bump there and winced at the pain, hearing myself hiss a bit. I looked over at the clock next to the bed I was in. Two days had gone by since that night, and I was suppose to be working tonight, this time as a waitress. I pushed the covers off me, seeing bruises on my skin, my ankle had swollen a bit since that night. I could vaguely remember twisting it as I fell, my heels probably broke at the weight that was thrust upon them.
I tore the covers off, moving so my legs hung over the side of the bed, testing my strength as I used the wall for support. My knees were a bit shaky, but I found that I could not walk very well on my ankle, feeling pain shoot up my leg when I tested it. Using the wall as help, I walked over to the door, opening it and a little more bright light hit my face, I squinted, letting them adjust before running a hand through my hair, rubbing my eyes even more, pulling more make-up off. I looked around, stuck in awe as I leaned against the doorway, looking at the place, knowing someone rich had to be living here.
words``573
note``sorry it's short, lol, trying to get my muse up. my mom came in and bugged me while i was writing it too lol
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Post by Damien "Rocco" Edwards on Apr 3, 2012 13:54:53 GMT -8
He woke with a start, staring at the TV, in which the receiver had gone to sleep while it displayed ads for Dish Network. He looked around his living room, not seeing anything different. He almost forgot there was a woman sleeping in his bed until he walked in on her sleeping, still. Shaking his head, he pulled on his gym clothes and walked back into the room. He saw in the corner of the room where he must have thrown her purse, because he didn't remember grabbing it that night. He was thankful some inner part of him had though to, though, because he found her I.D an car keys.
Being so sound asleep, he ended up sneaking out of the house, locking it behind him. The bar was four blocks away from his apartment, so he ended up jogging there, keys jingling in his pocket. It took him about ten minutes to get their, his breathing a little heavier since he near sprinted the last bit. When he reached the parking lot, debris and whatnot was being cleared from the 'accident'. Pulling out his I.D and Claire's, he was able to get into her little car, push the seat back so he wasn't squeezed against the dash, and drive it back to the apartment building, two minutes away. He parked the small car in his other parking spot, shut down the engine and ran back up the stairs. He hoped she hadn't woken up.
He opened the door slowly and quietly, shutting and locking it behind him. Once more, nothing had changed. He cracked open his bedroom door and peeked in, seeing the woman still under the covers. She had shifted from he back though, and was not curled up in a ball on her side. He closed the door again and grabbed his coffee. The machine thankfully hadn't turned off yet.
With a quick press of a button, the news was back on. The news castors didn't have much to talk about, and there was only five minutes before some Oprah like show came on. As far as he could tell, nothing happened. He opened his computer, checked his email, heard an Angry voice mail from Peter renouncing his money not for pushing him over, but for telling his wife about what he did. Johnny ended up calling in as well, two days into his week long vacation wondering what the hell was going on.
"Pete isn't going to put out money for this thing. I told Sheryl what he was doing," He said quietly, hearing a stirring in the bedroom. "Yeah, well he got what he deserved. I think about that all the time. Oh well, guess we know who the better man is." An the conversation ended soon after that. Johnny would continue his vacation, and they would resume writing two days after he got back. He spent the rest of the uber long day paying bills and surfing the internet, an then he took a pill an went to sleep on the couch after he checked on Claire one more time, finding that Wimpy had snuggled up next to her.
It seemed like he ha slept for two hours when he felt his cat jump onto his belly. Now, wimpy isn't the thinnest of cats, so his weight had a big impact on Damien's abs. He pulled up his shirt to rub the red spot where his claws had dug in, and then he felt her presence. "Claire," he said, standing an letting his shirt drop to cover his stomach, "How are you? Oh my gosh, your ankle, here," he said, walking over and pulling her arm over his neck. He helped her to the kitchen table and helped her sit in one of the big empty seats.
"Coffee? Eggs? Cereal? What can I get you? I'll call my Ex, she's a physical therapist, Ill have her look at your ankle..."
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Post by Claire Marie Avila on Apr 3, 2012 14:59:36 GMT -8
It's been a long time since I came around,
Been a long time but I'm back in town,
This time I'm not leaving without you... That night was all a blur, everything finally coming back, to her, everything swarming around inside her mind, memories, body, causing a slight dizziness. She was almost raped, and probably would have ended up turning out a lot worse than it did. Voices started filling the room as she stood there, it was that same voice, her eyes followed it, moving around the room until she saw him, Damien Edwards. He must have been the one to save her, she was still a virgin thanks to him. "Pete isn't going to put out money for this thing. I told Sheryl what he was doing," He was talking about that night, what he had down to the fat man. Claire began to smile a bit, only wincing at the pain that shot through her head.
She looked around the room again, seeing how detailed everything was. Damien probably had more money than she thoughts, because some of these furnishings looked like they would cost a fortune. She began to shift her weight to her bad ankle, only remembering that it hurt way too much, she hissed at the pain again, looking down at it, seeing it kind of turning a little purple, she frowned, groaning. "Ugh, great!" She muttered under her breath, too quiet enough for anyone to hear, even Damien himself. The bruising meant it was most likely broken, which meant work was going to be hell. "Claire," Claire's head shot up at the sound of her name coming from his lips, the sound of his deep voice uttering her name.
Jaw dropping a little, she watched as he stood up, his shirt falling over his abs. She could not keep her eyes off that spot, even if it were for that brief moment that she saw those muscles, they drew her eyes, keeping them there. That was when he started walking over to her, she began to feel her heart pace quicken, breathing speeding up as he came closer. Biting her lip, she caught his eyes, blank expression on her face. "How are you? Oh my gosh, your ankle, here," She finally blinked, moving out of that still moment when he started to wrap his arm around her waist, the other moving her arm around his neck so she could have support.
Claire was way too stunned to speak, trying to collect even sanity to even mutter a 'thank you'. When she was led to the table, she found herself limping so the foot never touched the ground, using him for support. He was really tall, and really tall indeed. She finally drew in a breath, working up the courage to speak. "I... thank you..." She spoke with a stutter, moving so she was more comfortable in her seat. She looked around the kitchen, dropping her jaw a bit at the design. "Wow..." She spoke quietly, looking around the kitchen. All she had was a small little apartment, nothing big and fancy.
"Coffee? Eggs? Cereal? What can I get you? I'll call my Ex, she's a physical therapist, Ill have her look at your ankle..." Claire looked at him, his face was so full of worry it was even kind of cute, she still could not help herself to looking at his abs, even though he now had a shirt covering them. "Um... if you have any orange juice that would be great," She asked, smiling a little, nothing but the curl of her lips as she rubbed the back of her head. "And possibly even an ice pack?" She continued, wincing at the pain, feeling that bump there. "Thank you, by the way... I'm glad you were there." She spoke, looking away a bit, running her hands through her hair, moving it from her face.
words``641
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Post by Damien "Rocco" Edwards on Apr 3, 2012 15:58:20 GMT -8
He could see her confused facial expressions, and he watched as he eyes kept raking over his ab muscles. He knew he had them, but he had hoped she didn't see them. He was pretty secretive about his body until the person was his, and only his. When she thanked, all he did was nod his head and say, "No problem, it's not like any decent man would have left someone like you to fend for yourself." When she finally got around to telling him what she wanted, he reached into his large, underused fridge and pulled out the last of the OJ. He poured it into a tall glass and set it in front of her, an then he reached into the fridge and pulled out a bag of frozen peas and wrapped it in a couple of pieces of paper towels before hand it to her.
"You gotta knot on the back of your head?" he asked, having seen her touch it gingerly, "I have to go the the store and get some more food, but while I'm out you can watch TV. The remotes on the couch. I'll give Anna a ring and see if she can make it, if not I take you to the hospital." He told her quietly, speaking slowly for her. He didn't want to make her head hurt worse by speaking too fast.
"The water filter is in the fridge, if you want something other than tap and there's plenty of food. There's some work out shorts and and shirts and whatnot if you want to shower and clean up. I'll be back in about an hour." He grabbed his wallet from the counter and touched her shoulder as he walked by, "I'm real sorry this happened to you, but I want you to know that I won't let anything happen like that again."
Strolling silently from the apartment after he locked it, his mind flew over what had happened in the last two days. He couldn't believe that he'd beat someone, even if it was for a good cause. It just wasn't like him. He shook his head, running his hand through his overtly messy hair. He'd almost forgotten that he was in L.A, until he saw his neighbor parking her BMW. She was grocery shopping and had heels on. Shaking his head, he knew the paparazzi would be all over his dirty, greasy hair and workout clothes.
It took him a good fifteen minutes to drive to the store. He ended up going to Albertsons, even though he just needed more Almond milk, OJ, and some bread. He was a man, why did he need anything else? He walked down the halls of the store, unaware of the people taking pictures of him, whispering his name.
"Hey Anna," he said after she ha picked up the phone, he was putting a box of cereal into his carry basket. She was one of his few exes who was decent enough to hang out every once in a while in a friendly way. They were never actually a couple, even though the media made it out that they were an item. They were just.... good friends, until it just became too much for them.
"What's up, Rocco," she said, sounding bored.
"You got anything to do today?" He asked, and her answer was far from blunt, "Maybe, what do you need? Its been two months since we last talked." She sounded like she was on the treadmill. "Well, this girl..... OK, it's hard to explain and I don't want to talk about it in public, but her ankle is hurt, bad and it is really swollen. I was wondering if you could stop by my apartment and give it a look?"
He heard her sigh, "Yeah, Ill be there in about an hour." "Thanks," he said, hanging up. Anna was a good friend to him, though he knew she liked him more than just that. He hated doing it to her, but he needed her help. He checked the food out and paid, walking back to his car. Three people with very professional looking cameras popped up an were taking pictures at an intensely rapid pace, all of them bombarding and asking him questions. He just ignored it, pushing them lightly out of his way so he could put his things in his car and head out.
He drove home quickly and nearly ran up the stares. The door was locked, just as he had left it. "Hey, I got some more cereal, if your hungry."
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Post by Claire Marie Avila on Apr 3, 2012 18:49:33 GMT -8
It's been a long time since I came around,
Been a long time but I'm back in town,
This time I'm not leaving without you... Some people were uncomfortable with how their body looked, even those people who go out and work the muscles that they have, working on them until they were in peek condition. Claire was not one for going out to the gym and doing crunches and shit, she would always go for a run around the block, considering most people drive around LA, the people on the streets were usually very few, especially in the afternoon when everyone was basically at work. A nice long jog around a couple of blocks was fun, with the ipod headphones in the ear, and bottle of water, you were set.
"Not all men are decent around here." She spoke, mostly to herself, commenting on this reply. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning her head back in the chair, taking deep breaths. When he placed the orange juice in front of her she smiled and took a big drink of it, licking her lips as the taste of it trickled down to her stomach, seeming to send some vitamin C throughout her system, and sighed in a relaxing tone, settling herself down more in the seat, grabbing the ice pack that he handed her. "Yeah, when he slammed me into the wall, I heard a crack before I blacked out." She explained, wincing a bit at the memory, which was not a pleasant one.
Claire listened as he explained how he was gonna be out for a bit, she just nodded, listening to what he said about the water and about Anna. When he left the kitchen she frowned a bit. Anna? She thoughts, turning just as he left the apartment. She sighed, finishing off the orange juice, pushing from the table. With all the effort she could manage, Claire pushed herself up from the table, using it for support as she walked over to the sink, dropping her glass in it, and replaced the pack of peas in the freezer, shutting it.
Claire began using the wall for support, walking to the bathroom, seeing a pair of shorts and a tee folded on the counter for her, along with a towel and washrag. She turned to the shower, shutting the door behind her, and turned it on, messing with the shower knob before getting it at the rite temperature. She began removing her clothes, finally getting a glance at her skin in the mirror.
A gasp escaped her lips when she saw the bruises on her face, especially the one just below her right eye, where the man had punched her. It was not enough on they eye to call it a 'black eye', but it was still pretty close to it. She shuddered, seeing her arms, then her legs
The easiest way for her to get in the shower was sitting on the ledge and turning so she was in the shower, using the side to hold herself up, cleaning herself off, wiping the make-up from her face. She began washing her hair, rinsing all the shampoo out and then washed her body.
Claire finished showering and grabbed the towel, wrapping it around her bruised body and shut the shower off, getting out with even more difficulty. She dried herself off, glancing once more in the mirror before slipping the clothes on.
Thankfully Damien's apartment was not a two story, or getting into an upstairs bathroom would have taken her all day.
The way Damien's face looked, the way his voice was toned, as he touched her shoulder, telling her that he would never let it happen again. Claire frowned, wondering if he liked her in some way, or he just was being sympathetic to her, considering what had happened. without any more thought to it, Claire looked down at her ankle once more, seeing the bruise growing, with a sigh she limped back into the living room, plopping down on the couch.
With a click of the remote, Claire began to look through the channels, letting commercials go by when she got up to get a glass of water, setting it on the table side near the couch, grabbing the remote once more and began searching for a channel. She settled on one called Movie Plex. It was a channel that played old movies, and some new, all day long, but during the movie there were no commercials, only after it had ended. The movie that was on now was Of Mice and Men. It was one of her favorites.
Clair moved so she was laying her whole body across the couch, he wet hair hanging over her shoulder as she laid back, grabbing the pillow and placed it under her ankle, hoping it would ease the pain, which it did, very little. She then laid back finally, turning the volume up on the big television, relaxing as she got into the movie, finding herself dozing off a bit.
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