“Thank you, really, thanks,” Kennedy said with a small laugh in her voice, taking a seat in front of the mirror, looking herself over. She gave a small smile to the mirror, satisfied with how her makeup had stayed on throughout her time on stage. “What..what are you doing here?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him while her hands grabbed for a pack of makeup wipes. She pulled a few out and started with her forehead, working to get the thick layer of foundation off. She only wore that much makeup on stage; she loved putting on the “costume” and creating a character for herself that was confident and striking and sexy, so many things that the real Kennedy didn’t consider herself to be. A friend walked past and playfully popped the strap of her dress against her shoulder, making Kennedy giggle and look at the man in drag, reaching to give their back side a little swat before they exited.
Left alone, she turned back towards Preston and asked, “You’re the singer, right? Big concert, big traffic jams…because of you. I wouldn’t have expected to see you in a place like ours.” It wasn’t meant to be rude, just honest. She quieted a bit and looked back in the mirror, one hand reaching behind her to undo the clip at the top of her hair, fake blonde strands falling to her shoulders. Her fingers touched the clips in her hair and she slowly started to undo them, her dark hair becoming more visible to him.
Preston could barely hear her from all the movement in the back room, people walking in and out, interactions going on with other people, and oh, someone asking for an autograph, which he didn’t necessarily mind, but his attention was on this magnificently talented creature. “What? Oh! you’re welcome... Yeah, I was just... I had a—” Preston tried to remember the word show, hoping he didn’t make it too obvious that he was nervous, or that he smelled like booze from earlier that night. “I was doing a show at the uh, MSG.” His voice trailed off as he mentioned Madison Square Garden, not wanting to bring too much attention on him, he just wanted to focus the attention on her if he was completely honest. “Anyway, it wasn’t too far from here and my best friend,” Preston looked around for Ivan, but waved it off when he couldn’t find him. “He uh, he suggested this place.”
Preston watched as the beautiful woman took off her make up, mesmerized by her every move, for whatever reason, he couldn’t look away, even if he felt if he was being creepy. “He also told me your name, but I'm so sorry I can’t remember it. It started with a K, I know that much, right?” Preston ran his hands through his hair, biting his lip as he looked at her, wondering what she actually looked like under her heavy costume makeup, but he was betting that she just as, if not even more, stunning than what he was seeing now. Pres found himself completely captivated by the lounge singer, wanting to ask her to hang out somewhere else. Fuck it, when the moment came, he knew he would.
Preston chuckled and shook his head. “Yes, I'm an artist, but it’s New York, all that traffic can’t just be because of me, no way.” He found it hard to believe that a city that busy and was consistently that busy every time he came to do a show, would be even a little affected by him. Preston knew he had fans, and he loved them all, but he didn’t feel as if he was that special. Taking a sip of his whiskey, he groaned silently, disguising it when a quick clearing of his throat. His voice always got gruff after a show, and as much as Preston wanted to sit there and pretend that the liquor helped, it didn’t. In fact, it probably made it worse, but no one could tell him any differently.
Her actual hair came to view and he smiled to himself a little, looking down at the small tattoo on his left hand, thinking of something to say but wanting to keep it cool before he noticed her lashes. “Are those real?” Preston asked her as he eyed them curiously. If they weren’t real, he had a couple questions, but if they were, damn, this woman was just blessed from every angle, wasn’t she?
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