barad and jane (transistion posts always seem stilted to me):
Jane was performing by rote; she knew the lyrics and could sing them in her sleep…maybe she did, Gabe never mentioned it, but then he had been interested in other things. She barely heard the raucous applause, cat calls and whistles as the last note floated away on the super heated, smoke laden air. La Chat Noir was stifling tonight; the temperature reflected the early heat wave that had descended like a dog day inferno two days before. She smiled at the crowd, gave a little wave and started off stage. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Barad being ushered to his chair. A table right down front that had remained empty during her first set. Of course she knew why it was vacant, the only reason it would be, it had been held in reserve. He must have passed around some cash to obtain that table, or any table. Tryst did not, as a rule, allow such goings on. And it was Jane’s guess Tryst didn’t have a clue that someone in the club had been bribed to hold a seat for Barad…or anyone.
She watched him covertly for just a moment, feigning conversation with the piano player who, in point of fact did have a note to deliver. Frowning slightly as he pressed a small card into her hand, briefly glimpsing the message scrawled across its flipside. The front showed Barad’s name in heavily embossed script, gold of course. A song request, Jane sighed slightly and thought about refusing. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Barad charming the proverbial (and literal) pants off, Bernice; not that that would take a whole lot of charisma.
Lifting her azure gaze she scanned the pool tables and their players; she didn’t see Gabe, of course that didn’t mean he wouldn’t show up. It would be her luck to be in the middle of that song and have him appear through the haze of cigarette smoke laced with the scent of cheap booze. Turning the card over and over in her hands she ran her fingers across the embossed letters, once more glancing at the song request. It was written long hand, carefully, neatly; no please, no thank you, just one arrogant demand; Ain’t No Other Man. Why that song...of course she knew, it is the one she had sung only for the pool shark.
Barad knew exactly what he was doing. Jane was a good judge of people; it came in very handy in her line of work. He didn’t take chances, he didn’t play the odds, he didn’t gamble, despite his line of work. No, he knew exactly what he was doing; maybe he was even hoping Gabe would show up. Jane couldn’t resist a smile at the thought of that altercation. It would be interesting to say the least. And she wouldn’t take any odds (house or otherwise) on who would be the last man standing at the end of it.
Still, she had accepted a job for this man, though she was a bit uncertain about precisely what that would involve. Technically she was still working for Tryst (who had expressed genuine disappointment when Jane told her she was leaving) so the choice was in the end, hers. She curled her fingers in on the card, intending to crumple it and toss it into the crowd; realizing Barad was watching her closely, even though he was smiling and trading clever anecdotes with, Bernice (Jane thought that was most likely a battle of wits with an unarmed person).
Tucking the card into the top of her dress, Jane placed a hand on Chad’s shoulder and leaned down to whisper something in his ear. He’d been working for her exclusively for years, yet one couldn’t miss the expression of pure delight as his boss’s hair brushed across his shoulder. Her proximity was always intoxicating and sometimes he wondered how he kept his hands to himself. He’d seen her half dressed, undressed in the bathtub and in bed. Jane thought of him as a talented piece of furniture instead of a man; and therefore was either indifferent or oblivious of her affect on him. Needless to say he took a lot of cold showers.
He sighed to himself as he watched her walk away without so much as a backward glace. Her golden tresses swaying in counter tempo to the ebb and flow rhythm of her stride. Chad turned back to his piano, fingers playing idly over the keys as he studied the man at the table right in front from under the brim of his black fedora. He didn’t like the looks of this one; he had seen a lot of men come and go in Jane’s life. But there was something wholly disquieting about the gentlemen flirting so competently with Bernice, all the while keeping his passionate jade gaze on the blonde songstress.
For the first time since he had come to this place, he found himself wishing that that Masconi dude would resurface. At least he was a known quantity, Barad Sien was wild card with a ton of money and influence and eyes only for Jane. And Chad knew something else; like he knew the sun was going to come up in the morning, whatever “business” he had invented when he hired Jane…that wasn’t what this was all about. No, he meant to have her and not just as a singer in his club. He had a feeling all hell was about to break loose and there wasn’t anything he could do but go along for the ride.
Jane had stopped short when she’d entered what passed for a dressing room in this joint. There, hanging on the closet door was a midnight black dress overloaded with sequins; nor did she miss the crystal vase of long stemmed red roses on her make-up table. She swore softly between clenched teeth, he was trying to buy her with expensive gifts; Barad was obviously used to purchasing what he wanted with a little bling and charm. Well, he was about to get a not for sale sign in the gut.
Yanking the dress off the hanger she tossed it next to the roses and went digging in her closet for what she was going to wear in her next set, all the while a sequence of profanity that would do a sailor proud sullied the air around her. She found what she was looking for, changing into a dress she hadn’t worn in more than two years (she wondered if it would even fit) and regarded herself in the full length mirror. “Not too bad, Jane. Not too bad.” It did fit, with a little room to spare, which made her smile. Her hands smoothed the gossamer fabric over what it covered, which honestly wasn’t much. The material was azure which brought out the color of her eyes to perfection. A little circlet upon ringlets apparently spun from gold completed the look. Touching up her lipstick and tucking her feet into the blue satin slippers, she took a deep breath; knowing what she was doing could have dire consequences, but right now she didn’t give a rat’s ass.
Texting Chad that she was ready; she grabbed the black dress off the table and made her way backstage. She heard the piano player whispering to the rest of the band. Some of them expressed shock, more were amused. The song that Jane had decided to sing hadn’t been included in their regular sets for a long time. They all knew it of course, but silently wondered if Jane had lost her beautiful mind.
The melody started and the crowd stilled, Jane was well-liked, her voice clear, true and powerful. It soared above the smoke and filth, the grime and booze, the humdrum everyday existence that working stiffs endured. For a little while they watched the beautiful golden goddess on the stage, listened to her torch songs and ballads, the perfect crystal notes, and were transported. The crowd did not recognize this particular tune, and some leaned forward in their unsteady bar chairs. Most knew every song she sang and rarely did she deviate from the standard fare. But tonight, as soon as she stepped on stage, her smile fixed in place as the spot caressed her with its soft amber glow; they knew they were in for a rare treat.
In truth Jane looked like she had been plucked from the pages of Aladdin and the Forty Thieves; the little harem outfit only covering that which was necessary. The delicate fabric showing off to perfection the golden blush of her skin and the radiant flaxen mane which trailed without restraint down her back and over her shoulders. The crowd murmured its approval, the accolades made in a soft, reserved manner; as if they were afraid the genie would disappear back into her bottle.
When she had stepped out on stage, Chad had actually missed a couple notes. He hadn’t seen that costume in a long time and had forgotten how she looked in it. He felt cold sweat on his forehead and suddenly his jeans were uncomfortably tight. He shifted uneasily on the piano bench and hoped no one would notice. And then he forgot everything else as Jane started to sing;
”I feel like I've been locked up tight
For a century of lonely nights;
Waiting for someone
To release me.
You're licking your lips and blowing kisses my way,
But that don't mean I'm gonna give it away;
Baby, baby, baby.”
He couldn’t resist glancing at Barad, knowing Jane had intentionally disregarded the song he had requested. Though why she chose this particular one he couldn’t guess. Although the man looked completely collected, legs crossed, ankle on knee, he could see something smoldering behind that jade green gaze. But Sien only had eyes for the songbird who was at present dancing her away across the stage to position herself precisely in front of of his table.
The combination of the lowered lights and smoke billowing around the stage formed a nimbus surrounding her sinuous figure, and for all the world, she looked like she had just been released from her crystal prison. Suspended from her hand a black dress that literally oozed glitz. As the last note fell longingly from between her crimson lips, the garment slipped from her fingers and landed with a sibilant hiss; the multitude of sequins sounding like a snakes scales. It coiled upon Barad's knee and boot in shimmering serpentine folds; glittering mockingly at him in the club's subdued lighting.
Bernice’s mouth dropped open as the man she had been flirting with slammed a hand down on the table, making the ashtray and his glass chink against each other as the wood trembled under the blow. Jane only raised a brow, smiled a smile that would make the gods fall to their knees, nodded her thanks to the crowd (who had been on their feet clapping and cheering since the song ended) and left the stage.
Jane didn't like being taken for granted and she wasn't for sale, maybe Barad realized that now. Of course it was entirely possible he would seek some sort of revenge on her; perhaps withdrawing his job offer, (after all, he wasn't used to having rebellious employees) maybe worse. She knew she could remain here if the job fell through, Tryst had told her as much. In fact, she had seen Tryst during her performance, leaning on the bar pretending to drink a glass of Jack Daniels; the level of which, magically, never changed. The woman was looking directly at Barad Sien, indicating that Tryst was not as hopelessly unaware as the singer thought. Jane should have known better. If the proverbial “worst” happened, well, Jane knew she could handle herself. But she’d be damned if she would work for someone who thought he could own her.
Jane reached her dressing room and slammed the door behind her; the reverberation of the sound reaching the stage and the crowd just beyond. Obviously Barad heard it, glancing up from the dress still resting upon his leg. Chad had seen Jane get irritated before, it didn’t happen that often, astoundingly enough, but when it did it was every man for himself. He thought Barad looked just a little disturbed, but was fighting hard to keep his equanimity.
The piano player sniggered quietly as he wiped down the keys with a soft cloth and closed the protective cover over them. Thinking to himself that perhaps, just possibly, this cool, self-possessed, used to getting his way by whatever means available male, had conceivably bitten off more than he could chew. Jane had just taken an enormous chunk out of this Sien character’s hide and had never missed a step while doing so. Hard on the heels of his previous thought, Chad heard another thud from the direction of the singer’s dressing room; the crash followed by the musical chime of glass shattering; it sounded suspiciously to him like a large vase of blood red, long stem roses had just met their fate. Pulling the brim of his fedora low over his eyes, he picked up his music, the echo of his amusement trailing him as he exited stage left.
She watched him covertly for just a moment, feigning conversation with the piano player who, in point of fact did have a note to deliver. Frowning slightly as he pressed a small card into her hand, briefly glimpsing the message scrawled across its flipside. The front showed Barad’s name in heavily embossed script, gold of course. A song request, Jane sighed slightly and thought about refusing. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Barad charming the proverbial (and literal) pants off, Bernice; not that that would take a whole lot of charisma.
Lifting her azure gaze she scanned the pool tables and their players; she didn’t see Gabe, of course that didn’t mean he wouldn’t show up. It would be her luck to be in the middle of that song and have him appear through the haze of cigarette smoke laced with the scent of cheap booze. Turning the card over and over in her hands she ran her fingers across the embossed letters, once more glancing at the song request. It was written long hand, carefully, neatly; no please, no thank you, just one arrogant demand; Ain’t No Other Man. Why that song...of course she knew, it is the one she had sung only for the pool shark.
Barad knew exactly what he was doing. Jane was a good judge of people; it came in very handy in her line of work. He didn’t take chances, he didn’t play the odds, he didn’t gamble, despite his line of work. No, he knew exactly what he was doing; maybe he was even hoping Gabe would show up. Jane couldn’t resist a smile at the thought of that altercation. It would be interesting to say the least. And she wouldn’t take any odds (house or otherwise) on who would be the last man standing at the end of it.
Still, she had accepted a job for this man, though she was a bit uncertain about precisely what that would involve. Technically she was still working for Tryst (who had expressed genuine disappointment when Jane told her she was leaving) so the choice was in the end, hers. She curled her fingers in on the card, intending to crumple it and toss it into the crowd; realizing Barad was watching her closely, even though he was smiling and trading clever anecdotes with, Bernice (Jane thought that was most likely a battle of wits with an unarmed person).
Tucking the card into the top of her dress, Jane placed a hand on Chad’s shoulder and leaned down to whisper something in his ear. He’d been working for her exclusively for years, yet one couldn’t miss the expression of pure delight as his boss’s hair brushed across his shoulder. Her proximity was always intoxicating and sometimes he wondered how he kept his hands to himself. He’d seen her half dressed, undressed in the bathtub and in bed. Jane thought of him as a talented piece of furniture instead of a man; and therefore was either indifferent or oblivious of her affect on him. Needless to say he took a lot of cold showers.
He sighed to himself as he watched her walk away without so much as a backward glace. Her golden tresses swaying in counter tempo to the ebb and flow rhythm of her stride. Chad turned back to his piano, fingers playing idly over the keys as he studied the man at the table right in front from under the brim of his black fedora. He didn’t like the looks of this one; he had seen a lot of men come and go in Jane’s life. But there was something wholly disquieting about the gentlemen flirting so competently with Bernice, all the while keeping his passionate jade gaze on the blonde songstress.
For the first time since he had come to this place, he found himself wishing that that Masconi dude would resurface. At least he was a known quantity, Barad Sien was wild card with a ton of money and influence and eyes only for Jane. And Chad knew something else; like he knew the sun was going to come up in the morning, whatever “business” he had invented when he hired Jane…that wasn’t what this was all about. No, he meant to have her and not just as a singer in his club. He had a feeling all hell was about to break loose and there wasn’t anything he could do but go along for the ride.
Jane had stopped short when she’d entered what passed for a dressing room in this joint. There, hanging on the closet door was a midnight black dress overloaded with sequins; nor did she miss the crystal vase of long stemmed red roses on her make-up table. She swore softly between clenched teeth, he was trying to buy her with expensive gifts; Barad was obviously used to purchasing what he wanted with a little bling and charm. Well, he was about to get a not for sale sign in the gut.
Yanking the dress off the hanger she tossed it next to the roses and went digging in her closet for what she was going to wear in her next set, all the while a sequence of profanity that would do a sailor proud sullied the air around her. She found what she was looking for, changing into a dress she hadn’t worn in more than two years (she wondered if it would even fit) and regarded herself in the full length mirror. “Not too bad, Jane. Not too bad.” It did fit, with a little room to spare, which made her smile. Her hands smoothed the gossamer fabric over what it covered, which honestly wasn’t much. The material was azure which brought out the color of her eyes to perfection. A little circlet upon ringlets apparently spun from gold completed the look. Touching up her lipstick and tucking her feet into the blue satin slippers, she took a deep breath; knowing what she was doing could have dire consequences, but right now she didn’t give a rat’s ass.
Texting Chad that she was ready; she grabbed the black dress off the table and made her way backstage. She heard the piano player whispering to the rest of the band. Some of them expressed shock, more were amused. The song that Jane had decided to sing hadn’t been included in their regular sets for a long time. They all knew it of course, but silently wondered if Jane had lost her beautiful mind.
The melody started and the crowd stilled, Jane was well-liked, her voice clear, true and powerful. It soared above the smoke and filth, the grime and booze, the humdrum everyday existence that working stiffs endured. For a little while they watched the beautiful golden goddess on the stage, listened to her torch songs and ballads, the perfect crystal notes, and were transported. The crowd did not recognize this particular tune, and some leaned forward in their unsteady bar chairs. Most knew every song she sang and rarely did she deviate from the standard fare. But tonight, as soon as she stepped on stage, her smile fixed in place as the spot caressed her with its soft amber glow; they knew they were in for a rare treat.
In truth Jane looked like she had been plucked from the pages of Aladdin and the Forty Thieves; the little harem outfit only covering that which was necessary. The delicate fabric showing off to perfection the golden blush of her skin and the radiant flaxen mane which trailed without restraint down her back and over her shoulders. The crowd murmured its approval, the accolades made in a soft, reserved manner; as if they were afraid the genie would disappear back into her bottle.
When she had stepped out on stage, Chad had actually missed a couple notes. He hadn’t seen that costume in a long time and had forgotten how she looked in it. He felt cold sweat on his forehead and suddenly his jeans were uncomfortably tight. He shifted uneasily on the piano bench and hoped no one would notice. And then he forgot everything else as Jane started to sing;
”I feel like I've been locked up tight
For a century of lonely nights;
Waiting for someone
To release me.
You're licking your lips and blowing kisses my way,
But that don't mean I'm gonna give it away;
Baby, baby, baby.”
He couldn’t resist glancing at Barad, knowing Jane had intentionally disregarded the song he had requested. Though why she chose this particular one he couldn’t guess. Although the man looked completely collected, legs crossed, ankle on knee, he could see something smoldering behind that jade green gaze. But Sien only had eyes for the songbird who was at present dancing her away across the stage to position herself precisely in front of of his table.
The combination of the lowered lights and smoke billowing around the stage formed a nimbus surrounding her sinuous figure, and for all the world, she looked like she had just been released from her crystal prison. Suspended from her hand a black dress that literally oozed glitz. As the last note fell longingly from between her crimson lips, the garment slipped from her fingers and landed with a sibilant hiss; the multitude of sequins sounding like a snakes scales. It coiled upon Barad's knee and boot in shimmering serpentine folds; glittering mockingly at him in the club's subdued lighting.
Bernice’s mouth dropped open as the man she had been flirting with slammed a hand down on the table, making the ashtray and his glass chink against each other as the wood trembled under the blow. Jane only raised a brow, smiled a smile that would make the gods fall to their knees, nodded her thanks to the crowd (who had been on their feet clapping and cheering since the song ended) and left the stage.
Jane didn't like being taken for granted and she wasn't for sale, maybe Barad realized that now. Of course it was entirely possible he would seek some sort of revenge on her; perhaps withdrawing his job offer, (after all, he wasn't used to having rebellious employees) maybe worse. She knew she could remain here if the job fell through, Tryst had told her as much. In fact, she had seen Tryst during her performance, leaning on the bar pretending to drink a glass of Jack Daniels; the level of which, magically, never changed. The woman was looking directly at Barad Sien, indicating that Tryst was not as hopelessly unaware as the singer thought. Jane should have known better. If the proverbial “worst” happened, well, Jane knew she could handle herself. But she’d be damned if she would work for someone who thought he could own her.
Jane reached her dressing room and slammed the door behind her; the reverberation of the sound reaching the stage and the crowd just beyond. Obviously Barad heard it, glancing up from the dress still resting upon his leg. Chad had seen Jane get irritated before, it didn’t happen that often, astoundingly enough, but when it did it was every man for himself. He thought Barad looked just a little disturbed, but was fighting hard to keep his equanimity.
The piano player sniggered quietly as he wiped down the keys with a soft cloth and closed the protective cover over them. Thinking to himself that perhaps, just possibly, this cool, self-possessed, used to getting his way by whatever means available male, had conceivably bitten off more than he could chew. Jane had just taken an enormous chunk out of this Sien character’s hide and had never missed a step while doing so. Hard on the heels of his previous thought, Chad heard another thud from the direction of the singer’s dressing room; the crash followed by the musical chime of glass shattering; it sounded suspiciously to him like a large vase of blood red, long stem roses had just met their fate. Pulling the brim of his fedora low over his eyes, he picked up his music, the echo of his amusement trailing him as he exited stage left.