seen from France
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seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
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seen from Italy
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seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
“The thing is I don’t care. Pay your tab and never show your fucking face here again. You come back and touch any of my women one more time, I’ll make sure you don’t walk out. Am I clear? Fuck...” Gabriella sighed, showing her own hands for emphasis. The patron walked away with fear written in his eyes.
“My god, it’s going to be one of those nights, huh.” She said to the person next to her.
the sun’s hanging high in the sky, it’s blazing hot and the pool is alive with laughter and movement. water flings through the air, splashes against the concrete as someone canonballs in. decked out in his full suit, tie, and sunglasses, jimmy sticks out like a sore thumb. the oversized margarita he holds in his hand, complete with umbrella and pineapple slice, only make it all the more comical.
an eternal smirk lives on his lips but he makes a bee-line, plops into the lounge chair right next to his person of interest. make no bones about it, he’s here on business. “gee, they’ll let anyone in here, won’t they?” brows quirk behind shaded lenses. he pauses for a sip, pregnant with expectation. “--you managing to stay out of trouble? seems like things are heatin’ up, more ways than one.”
“----- you ever feel like you’re always gettin’ the fuzzy end of the lollipop?” angel wonders aloud, rum glugging into his mug of coffee.
“---screw it, the whole damn thing’s rigged,” angel’s haughty, scoffs as he throws down his hand of cards. “the midas big wigs are stealing our coins to pay for that big, ol’ blood spot in the lobby, wouldn’t you say? better off playing solitaire with the devil...”
he can’t help but catch his eye on all the chips stacked before the person next to him. a brow arches, equal parts curious and mischievous. “looks like i’m sittin’ right next to him. you wouldn’t be counting cards, would ya?”
“c’mon, boys, surely there’s enough moonshine to go around,” jimmy pats the huge, dense arm of the muscle at the door to no avail. evidently law enforcement isn’t invited to the party, rightfully so given jimmy certainly isn’t there for the liquor. his easy grin doesn’t falter though, he tilts his head. “what, you want for me to flash a badge around, make it into a whole scene? at pauly’s party?” around the fleshy shoulder of the guard, jimmy catches a familiar eye. he waves them over. “wouldn’t want me to come back around with friends, have to break up the whole shin dig... hey there-- tell the lugs i’m a guest, won’t ya?”
La ilusión viaja en tranvía (Luis Buñuel ,1959)
