excuse me, Miss | victor & remy

[Victor Ray Bird ««]

[height]Victor took one last longing glance at the tight miniskirt walking away from him, before unfolding the hasty-written note with full positive expectation. Yes, the girl was exactly what he had been looking for: she was young, for one thing, and her tight blouse and exposed legs told him all he needed to know about her insecurities. He was a high-school grad, a college man now - it wouldn't be much longer before all the high-school's senior girls would be falling head over heels. And this girl was the perfect place to begin. He opened the note and read:

911-GET-LOST!

Dammit. Alright, so maybe she wasn't the one for him. Probably a whore, anyway, He told himself as he finished up the last of his fries. There would be plenty of others. This was just the start. He was starting a new job, had just started school - he was already moved into his dorm, and things were going to go great. He called for the check, digging through his wallet to scrape together some cash, and left the restaurant, guitar case slung across his back.

- - - - -

The night was chilly and the sun was setting. The bar was gloomily lit, and he was hit with the smell of beer and grease as he stepped inside. He walked in, letting his eyes adjust; there weren't many people around, just a few lonely men drinking sparsely around the room. The nerves hit him for the first time; it was his first night to perform, and he wanted to make sure to impress the bar owner. He loosened a few buttons at the collar of his plaid shirt, checking his back jeans' pocket for his phone and wallet, and glancing at his dark hair in a small mirror on the wall. The only employee around was a girl cleaning tables, with her back turned. He couldn't help it; even the nerves couldn't keep him from glancing over her ass. Alright, so maybe the bar owner wasn't the only one he would be impressing.

He approached her. "Excuse me, Miss." He couldn't recall the last time he had ever used the word "miss", but it was best to play it safe and polite on his first night.
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[remy elizabeth williams •]

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''Think of what that money could bring, I'd buy everything...''

Remy scrubbed at the dried ketchup from the lunch shift which she hated the waitresses for not cleaning, apparently all the work fell on her shoulders after two. That's why her neon blue earphone cord was leading from her skinny black jeans pocket and into her ears. 'Rich Girl' by Gwen Stefani played on her ipod, a song she often played while working. It kept her mood up regardless of whatever mess she was forced to deal with. Singing lightly in an almost hum and dancing just slightly as she skipped around the tables, she didn't care. No one was there to laugh at her 'work ethic' except for a few drunks at the bar that were always there. Dinner wasn't for a little bit later and the show wasn't on until six at the earliest.

''A Hollywood mansion if I could, please book me first class to my fancy house in London town...''

She sung lightly as she swung her hips slightly to the beat as she reached forward to scrub the long table as best as she could, keeping a beat in her feet and a hum in her throat. Being rich and famous was something almost every girl wished for at one point, some superficially, some not. Remy was honest about it, she wanted to be rich to have the easiest life ever. The perks of being famous were amazing. Picturing what her Hollywood mansion would look like, she laughed slightly to her own silly thoughts and stood up straight again, swinging the towel around her finger once before weaving between chairs with a steady beat in her feet and shake in her hips.

As her song ended, so did her upbeat muse for her work, however she hummed the ending, 'na, na, na, na' with as much bounce as she could as she continued scrubbing the tables.

''Excuse me, Miss.''

Remy finished her small dance she had going just in time to hear a strange voice at the entrance, she took out one of the earbuds and let it drop to turn around and greet whomever it was. Quickly noticing the guitar case she gave a small nod and a welcoming smirk.

''You must be here for the show?''

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[Victor Ray Bird ««]

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No, there were not many things Victor could say he was good for. He wasn't particularly book smart - getting average Cs and D+s in school - and he couldn't pull off that fake "sweet and polite" thing some bastards had managed to perfect. But, he did understand music, and there was nothing he did better than picking up a beat. (Well, maybe there was one other activity he excelled at.)

The girl had her music playing loud, and he could catch a bit of the instruments' sound, as well as the waitress's singing. He definitely picked up on her dancing - which couldn't help but lead his imagination to go places it shouldn't. She was just cleaning tables, of course; he could only imagine what her hips could do if she was allowed to let loose.

His foot instantly tapped against the beat, and as she worked on the tables he added to the song: "...All the riches baby, won't mean anything. Don't need no other baby; your lovin' is better than gold..." He sang softly, adding a few soft claps. God, the girl was even more gorgeous from the front. She was definitely college-aged, as well - though most definitely not a freshman like himself.

He stopped and laughed, a crooked smile across his face. "Yes, I'm here for the show. Say, about your dancing...tell me I'm not the only one preforming tonight?" He couldn't think of a better past-time than enjoying the sight of her swinging hips.

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[remy elizabeth williams •]

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"Yes, I'm here for the show.''

Remy watched uncomfortably as he watched her, turning around to face him, having one arm hanging and the other rested lightly just below her hip she tried to retain his eye contact as his traveled over her once dancing body. She waited for his response with a less than amused look on her face. Freshman, she guessed.

Heading over behind the bar to throw the rag away in the dirty bag she grabbed a clean towel and threw it over her shoulder as she began washing some of the glasses from lunch, she hated doing dishes, specifically when it wasn't her dishes she was supposed to clean - she would have enough to do after the dinner shift.

"Say, about your dancing...tell me I'm not the only one preforming tonight?''

Remy quickly pondered giving a, 'you wish' or something along those lines to make sure he knew she wasn't interested in his rather uncomfortable....compliments, however, she wanted to maintain and air of business, although it was clear he was defiantly a freshman to her.

Looking up at him and then over at the stage, she directed him with a nod, "You can set up over there. I'm guessing you know how to plug everything in right?'' She asked him with a serious and rather flat tone.

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[Victor Ray Bird ««]

[height]No matter, no matter. Don't let it get to you. How long had this conversation been, five seconds? So, the girl wasn't one for bluntness. Fine, fine, he could deal with that. She had to be romanced. This was better, in fact - finally catching the prey was always much more rewarded after a hot and heavy chase.

He wouldn't let himself be pushed aside that easily; he replied with a smile, "Yes, I'm pretty familiar. Thank you..." Victor glanced down at her chest (not he first time he looked) and read the name on her name tag. "...Remy." A pretty name--original. He passed her side (pleased to note that he was, indeed, a few inches taller than her) and got up on stage. He squatted down and began messing with the equipment on the floor of the stage, adjusting the speakers and hooking up his guitar. He was quite proud of his guitar - an expensive and impressive model, the only thing he had ever saved up money to purchase. Once he was satisfied, he turned and stood in front of the mike, guitar resting across his chest. There was a stool provided, and he sat down, strumming a few simple cords to check the volume.

So, no, there wasn't really much of an audience - but there was only one girl that mattered now, anyway. He cleared his throat and decided to star. "Good evening, everyone. My name is Victor Bird, and tonight I'll be playing you a few simple tunes..." These introductions were always slightly awkward; he never liked talking into the microphone much. "This song is an original." He added, taking a deep breath before beginning:

"Read me the letter, baby,
Do not leave out the words.
Stories and cigarettes ruin lives of lesser girls,
And I wanna know,
‘Cause I want you to know...

And it’s a strange condition,
A day in prison,
It’s got me out of my head
And I don’t know what I came for.

Send me the money, baby,
Do not leave out the wage.
You know you’re the best thing ever
To come out of this place,
Hey I want you to know,
‘Cause I wanna know...

So leave out the others, baby,
Say I’m the only one,
Cut out the uniforms
And settle with the sun,
Hey I want you to know...

And it’s a strange condition,
And life in prison,
It’s got me outta my head
And I don’t know what I came for,
I want you to know...

‘Cause I wanna know,
Yeah, I gotta know..." ...He ended softly, quite proud, actually, of his performance. He found himself glancing down at Remy, looking for her reaction.

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this song is Strange Condition by Pete Yorn. |3

[remy elizabeth williams •]

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Remy listened to him play reluctantly, she was never a fan of people playing at the part, at least not when they were looking right at her, and there was only three or four people in the 'audience'. As he played his song she went back behind the counter to pour the only man sitting there another drink. Sliding the tip he gave her in her back pocket, she turned and headed to the bar stool behind the counter and sat down, leaning beside the cash register she glanced outside the window at the sunset, at least things were going to pick up soon.

Watching people walk down the street she glanced at a group with three rather tall and handsome guys. She smirked to herself with a rather devious glance only to be waved to by the passing group from outside. Jealous that she couldn't go wherever they were going, she sighed only to listen to the guitars stopped.

Remy turned to see Victor still glancing over at her. She raised an eyebrow and then slid one of her earphone buds back into her ear, once again proving that she wasn't interested in his advances. Gently tapping her fingers on the counter to the beat of the song she was listening to, a song called ''Eh, Eh'' by Lady Gaga, a rather somber song for the artist, and something she didn't mind listening to in order to pass the time.

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[Victor Ray Bird ««]

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So Victor sang, and Remy ignored him. To the disappointed performer on stage, she plugged in her own tunes and refused to look to the stage. She seemed to be making quite a large effort to ignore him - so maybe that was a good sign. Maybe she was convincing herself that she wasn't attracted to him. Yes, that had to be it.

No matter, no matter. He needed to make a good impression on the boss if he ever wanted to be invited back, so he turned his focus on his voice. He sang a few easy, well-known songs, and got some claps from the few loners in the bar. The boss said that he could choose a ten-minute break sometime during his performance, and (after a few songs without Remy's attention) Victor decided it was time to re-engage her. He announced his intermission into the microphone, leaving his equipment on stage and sauntering up to her when she wasn't with any customers.

"Remy," He felt a bit awkward without his guitar strap across his chest, but he wasn't going to let much stop him from talking to this beautiful girl again. He pretended to read over her name tag for the first time. "Remy is your name, right? I realized I never introduced myself properly. I'm Victor Bird." He extended his hand out to her. "So how do you think I did - think the boss was impressed?" And by boss, he really just wanted her reaction. Maybe she was putting up an act, but her music could have easily been turned off. This was all just a game, and he would come out victorious.

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