on any other night she might worry that he’s on to her! a few sniffs here, a few snorts there, who’s to know what keeps her jetting around the stage like a wind up car?? but see she has been good tonight — or at least, any badness she may have done will have worn off by now and this time it’s pure excitement ( and a little bit of booze ) to finally have her ideas listened to and met with as much gusto as they were created with.
from her spot behind the pillar she hides all but a leg, poking out with her dressing gown falling up to her thigh. like an old feather headed show girl it moves enticingly before her grinning face follows suit, beaming at him like the spotlight has been turned back on.
“ oh my darling you don’t want to know the hours of work that go into this mind. all the cups of coffee, all the kisses my skin simply must receive before feeling rejuvenated and ready for the awful day ahead. “
and here’s the cue to swan out from behind the post, her hips swaying with each step as she comes to steal a seat on his lap. an arm over thin shoulders, she pulls a cigarette from the pack on their table and waits for him to light it.
“ see, creating the act is one problem. convincing nori to let me put it on is another. she wants to take the club in a “” newer “” direction. no old gags, no tried and tested show stoppers. all originality and forward thinking acts. but — she doesn’t seem to understand that paying homage to those that came before us can be needed sometimes, y’know?! glamour and comedy and theater they all come from this place, they all go hand in hand! i’m inspired by this so why can’t it be in my work?! “
oh and she’s pouting now — that rush of alcohol has made it to her poor, wounded little heart and even the sight of it is enough to kill a buzz. she deflates in a way against him, puffing on her cigarette like a scolded child sucking on a lollipop, not the big, colourful one they wanted.
“ maybe they should find someone to replace me! let them see how long they can last without me and my talent and my face and my ideas! god, em, why’s life gotta be so hard? “
Em’s obedient, a good little lad, as he follows each cue as solidly as a script: she wants a seat, he shifts until she’s comfortable... she wants a light, he obliges her sinfully, still making her close the gap and lean towards the open flame post-SPARK!
... those wheels in his head are turning, during his notable silence, listening along to her woes (kinda), even indulging and pressing kisses along the skin he can reach: since she so direly neeeeeeds them to get through.... temple rests on to the warmth of her arm... oh, poor poor STEFANI, his own little, pretty ICARUS, trying to fly too close to the spotlight-- who knows what could happen if someone doesn’t properly let her shine before she pushes the envelope too far, if that light gets too hot and all of her bedazzlements melt at the glue and fall right off-- OH HE CAN’T STAND THE THOUGHT! WHAT A WASTE! HOW TRAGIC! HOW EMBARRASSING!
“You should show ‘em what they’ll lose... but that’d be what they want you to do, think you’ll come crawling on back--” tisk, tisk, tisk, not Stef! He drapes an arm over her lap, uses a subtle hold on her opposite thigh to scoot her nearer, so he can take place of that Devil and prop chin atop her shoulder, can whisper: “You should leave this place in the dust, Darling, imagine SPROUTING FROM THEIR ASHES and being more than any NORI could ever fathom...”
He smiles now, a purely devious grin, but Em’s sure of himself: having turned rightly into a caricature of the serpent from Eden, but instead of an apple, he’s prepared to offer much more... “You should come along to my club, just imagine: I’d let you have a whole act on your own, you could even give the girls steps,” they do everything he tells them to, EmCee Says, and if EmCee Says: YOU DANCE STEFANI’S STEPS, then he’s only got to worry about a few getting too mouthy about it... but the name of THIS game will need to be a quid pro quo, a give for what he’s hoping to take.
Stefani has fans. Plenty. They’d follow her, he bets. He’d have his boys go out to all the bars and ramble on about The Kit Kat Klub’s Newest Dancer. If this place won’t scratch her itch for ARTISTIC CREATIVITY, then he’d roll her over and rub her belly ‘till she’s KICKING. For now, he’ll curl a fingertip beneath her chin, raise her face UP and reciprocate her previous pout with a good, crimsoned, plumped lip. LOOK AT THEM: IN IT TOGETHER: DROWNING IN MELANCHOLY OVER HER PLIGHT: he’s getting close, he hopes, imagine all those boys that’ll squirm in their seats when she pulls those moves on his stage...
“It’s the normals that don’t appreciate the classics, and when life gets hard you just gotta find your own way to get off... why waste your sparkle when I can guarantee your SHINE?!”