Criminal Conversation
Oct. 19th, 2013 03:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tiny_dancer81 in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
birthright_rpgOld habits died hard.
As much as Theresa was thinking about giving up the life, backsliding had probably been inevitable. She'd left The Dive the night before, having missed Maddy backstage, and she'd slept most of the day, waking up just before sundown. Having no job meant she had nothing to do but fart around her apartment, and she flipped channels for two hours while it got later, then clicked off the set because she was restless and bored.
It wasn't that she'd intended to go on the stroll, but she found herself having a margarita in a lounge on the Strip, and a man in an Armani suit and too much product in his hair sat down on the stool next to her. The man had an accent, something kinda-sorta European. Theresa, being from California, realized he didn't speak English very well. She did, however, understand it when he offered her five hundred dollars to join him in his suite at the Skylark.
Yeah, old habits died really hard.
Afterwards, he said she could stay in the suite while he went downstairs to meet someone. He'd been on the phone beforehand, talking rapid-fire in his native language, switching to English every now and then. Theresa was too busy envying the fact that the bathroom was nearly the size of her tiny apartment to pay attention. When he left, she called room service and ordered a pitcher of margaritas, then settled into an overstuffed chair to watch cable.
As much as Theresa was thinking about giving up the life, backsliding had probably been inevitable. She'd left The Dive the night before, having missed Maddy backstage, and she'd slept most of the day, waking up just before sundown. Having no job meant she had nothing to do but fart around her apartment, and she flipped channels for two hours while it got later, then clicked off the set because she was restless and bored.
It wasn't that she'd intended to go on the stroll, but she found herself having a margarita in a lounge on the Strip, and a man in an Armani suit and too much product in his hair sat down on the stool next to her. The man had an accent, something kinda-sorta European. Theresa, being from California, realized he didn't speak English very well. She did, however, understand it when he offered her five hundred dollars to join him in his suite at the Skylark.
Yeah, old habits died really hard.
Afterwards, he said she could stay in the suite while he went downstairs to meet someone. He'd been on the phone beforehand, talking rapid-fire in his native language, switching to English every now and then. Theresa was too busy envying the fact that the bathroom was nearly the size of her tiny apartment to pay attention. When he left, she called room service and ordered a pitcher of margaritas, then settled into an overstuffed chair to watch cable.
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on 2013-10-19 10:17 pm (UTC)Theresa poked her head out into the hall, saw no one else, then warily closed the door. Whoever this was, he didn't behave like a john. Exactly what did the tenant of this suite do for a living?
"So? The door's closed. Now what?"
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on 2013-10-19 10:30 pm (UTC)"I look after him when he gets drunk, but he got away from me." He surveyed the girl, then added, wryly, "I have no idea why."
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on 2013-10-19 10:56 pm (UTC)"I don't know what he was talking about," she said honestly. "He could barely get the words out in English when he picked me up in the bar down the street." If Mr. Nosy had the wherewithal to use the word 'client', he knew what she'd been brought up here for. Was he a minder or something?
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on 2013-10-20 03:10 am (UTC)There was another knock at the door. "You should look out of the peephole before you answer doors for strangers, by the way." Noah took a seat in one of the armchairs.
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on 2013-10-20 04:54 am (UTC)She went up on her toes and checked the peephole, then opened the door to the man holding a frosted pitcher and two glasses on a silver tray. The bill was going on her client's credit card, so all she had to do was pay the tip. The door closed, leaving her and Mr. Nosy alone again.
"You want a drink?" she asked sarcastically, noting the way he'd just made himself comfortable. "You look like you could use an IV drip of something."
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on 2013-10-20 05:13 am (UTC)"You're not at all scared." It was a statement, not a question.
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on 2013-10-20 06:00 am (UTC)She filled the glasses from the pitcher, but she didn't bring him his. She wasn't a fucking waitress. She sat down on the rumpled bed. The sheets smelled like sex.
"So. Are you a bodyguard or a babysitter?"
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on 2013-10-20 06:19 am (UTC)Noah reclaimed the seat. "Housekeeping is going to have a great time with this room tomorrow.
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on 2013-10-20 06:38 am (UTC)Theresa had settled on the idea that Mr. Nosy didn't want a freebie, which was vaguely unsettling. She knew there were people who didn't go to pros for sex, but there was something kind of...off about this guy's eyes. What if he was a psycho or something?
Then again, she was already dead, so...
The vampire took a drink of her margarita, chewed some slivers of ice. "Your...boss? Whatever he is. He must like them young." And then she let her face change, just for the hell of it. "Or maybe a little cool."
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on 2013-10-20 06:54 am (UTC)Did that idiot even realize he had picked up a vampire? A vampire hooker, to boot. That was too much. "So we're doing show and tell?" He looked down at his glass, waving his hand over the top. The surface was suddenly aflame, the alcohol ignited.
Noah blew out the fire, then downed a quarter of the margarita.