SHE HAS GOT TO LOVE NOBODY.

[Tabitha Clarence]

[glow=red,2,300] SUPERNOVA[/glow]

{ ••• luck and intuition, play the cards with spades to start ••• }[/center][/font][/size]

It wasn't shameful, really. It wasn't something that was bad for Tabitha to do. It was just her job––like any other job, except with a certain stigma that accompanied it. But for what reason? To Tabs, it was just human services, simple as that. She wasn't about to question her morality, and she wasn't about to question any of her clients' either. That would have been a good way to lose her job and that was something that she just couldn't afford to have happen. She was already living on next to nothing as it was, and it took every last cent that she had to keep her tiny, rinky-dink apartment in order. It had all of two rooms (the kitchen and bedroom were conjoined, and then there was a bathroom off that), but it was home. To Tabitha, it was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Sure, she'd lived better in the course of her life, but she never needed anything as elaborate as what she got in New Canaan. Now, she would admit that for the first few months it had been extremely difficult to acclimate to her new financial circumstances, but really, it wasn't that bad. It was clean and it was safe and that's all she could ask for. Besides, it wasn't Tabitha's comfort that mattered most, here, it was Cody's. Everything hinged on whether or not that little boy was happy, and if his happiness meant that his mother had to sell her body night after night in order to get him toys and food and clothes, then so be it. She wasn't ashamed. There was nothing to be ashamed of––any mother would have done what Tabitha did, if they'd been in her shoes when her sweet baby boy cried every night because he was so hungry and there was no damned food. That was shameful. Not having enough money to buy so much as that shitty bottled baby food was shameful. But stripping? Working in 'human services'? It wasn't shameful at all. it was a necessity and there was just no way around it. There hadn't been any other jobs that didn't require so much as a high school diploma. Beating Hearts Lounge would take her with no questions asked and that was exactly what she'd wanted. She was so sick of questions, so sick of the patronizing glares, the judgmental looks as she crossed the street, either pregnant or with Cody, who was so clearly her son, though she was so clearly so young. She was sick of it. But at BHL, no one did that, because no one knew. No one knew about Cody, and sure, that was a hard lie to keep up with, but Tabs could manage. She'd kept it up for two years now and so far, so good. She got paid minimum wage but tips were enough to float her taxes and her rent, and usually she had enough left over to get some baby food for Cody and some bread or something for herself. Many times, she went without. But that didn't matter, because she was bigger and older and she could handle a few hungry nights. Cody couldn't. Nor did he deserve to. This was her issue and she would take the harder route any day. She'd be damned if she let Cody suffer. He'd already lost his father and he was already going to grow up penniless. Getting a job and trying to get into college again was the least Tabs could do. She just hoped he wouldn't hate her when he grew up and found out how she did it.

But now was not the time for remorse, or even for retrospect. Now was the time to get to work and do what she was paid to do. Her keyring––consisting of only the key to her apartment and to her dressing room at BHL––sang muted jangles as it swung back and forth in her palm. She shoved them into the pocket of her skinny jeans and started off down the dark hallway, lit only by a dim yellow light in the middle of the narrow ceiling. She passed by one of the immigrant cleaning ladies and worked up a faint smile, pushing back a stray strand of her red waves and then stopping to check briefly that she had her cell phone in her purse. Thankfully, she did––it was really a beater, though, the only thing she could afford. A 'pay as you go.' Tabitha didn't do contracts. She glanced down at her feet, crammed into too-small sneakers and sighed. It had been too long since she'd gone shoe shopping. It had been her favorite thing to do, really––shop for shoes. But everything was suddenly so much more expensive when you were living off minimum wage and had a kid to pay for. But it was all right. So what if she had to give up some of the finer things of life? Her shoes weren't that tight. At least, they didn't hurt. That was the lie she told herself, but still, she was relieved to remove them every night and go around barefoot in the apartment. The only time where that was a problem was when she accidentally found out that there was a roach running around... the hard way. Yuck. But that didn't happen too often, and besides, she had a pair of ancient flip flops that still sort of fit her that she could wear around the house when necessary. But in the fall and winter, she had to wear the sneakers, with or without socks. Thankfully she hadn't gotten frostbite. Yet. But––let's not think about that, she thought with a roll of her eyes. It was never necessary to borrow trouble at the Clarence stead. She and Cody had plenty of it! Chuckling a little at her own misfortune, Tabitha hugged her arms around herself against a particularly rough gust of wind and squinted as the breeze nipped at her eyes and face. Her nose puckered with redness and her cheeks followed suit, and by the time she'd gotten to the back door at BHL, her hair was windswept everywhere and her face was swollen with the biting coldness of the wind. Early evening chill was setting in, which Tabs was used to by now, but her fair skin was not, by any means. Her boss, Adrian, said it looked cute on her. He said that every time she walked in, shivering and red. It bothered her, but at the same time, it didn't. Adrian himself was a man of probably thirty six, old enough and then some to be her father, and oddly attractive in his own, Mediterranean way. He was Greek––his parents had come over a generation ago and he'd gotten into some hard stuff as a kid, so he started this joint because after his younger lifestyle it only seemed natural. He was a nice guy, but pissing him off was generally a bad idea. He hit her one time, when she refused to sleep with one of the clients. He felt bad about it but she was still bruised for a week and a half, right on the side of her face. Adrian knew he could get away with it because he knew she was desperate for work. He didn't know why, but he knew that she was, and that in itself was enough.

She heaved open the back door with a grunt and then sidled in before it shut––it was a very heavy, metal door and she'd gotten clipped by it one too many times––only to be welcomed by the wink of her boss. He slid his arm around her waist and pecked her on the cheek, which made her wince, though he didn't see it. "Hi, Adrian," she said, turning to face him and giving him the biggest fake-grin she could manage. Tabs didn't mind him much, but she didn't like him much either. He could be a bit too liberal in how he touched her. A bit too liberal in how he offered her services to so many clients, night after night. But it was her job. "How's my little Supernova today, eh?" he asked, his breath riddled with the smell of alcohol. "She's great," Tabitha responded, feigning coquetry as she let her face alight with another smile. "Go get ready, then, I think we'll have a full house tonight." Tabs nodded and spiritedly flounced off for her dressing room, entering it and locking the door. Whenever Adrian was drunk he liked to have his way with her and she just wasn't in the mood for that. So, she locked her door and began the arduous process of getting ready for the show. She sat down at her vanity and flipped the myriad bulbs on, which gave her face a sort of pale, effervescent glow. She sat there, staring at her sallow reflection for a few moments. She looked sick. She looked hungry. She was hungry. But there wasn't any time for this. Tabitha was stronger than that, than sitting around and internally whining about being hungry. She would live, she had for two years. Standing up, Tabs dropped her sweater and removed her jeans, laying them on the love seat toward the other end of the small room. She picked out one of her favorite silk shirts and pantie set and slipped them both on, removing her everyday bra and underwear and shoving them beneath her jeans and sweater. She slipped on the pair of shear, powder blue panties and then the ruffled, silk shirt, which fit her nicely and which was held in place by a single string across her chest. Thus arrayed, the redheaded girl sat down on her stool in front of the mirror and began applying her makeup. And, of course, her trademark sequins in glitter, in a cat-eye fashion on her face. Adorning her wrists and ankles and legs with glitter adhesive and sticky sequins was always the best part of getting ready, Tabitha thought with a smile. It really did make her feel beautiful...feminine. Almost princess-like. It was kind of a strange reaction to, you know, stripping, but there it was. It made Tabitha feel beautiful and wanted and special. Adrian had made it very clear time and time again how many guests endeavored to come to BHL every night, solely to see her. The Supernova. Which was a thousand times bigger and brighter than any old star. It was the first time in Tabitha's whole life since high school that she'd been considered, not just better than everyone else, but the best. It was––her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Five till showtime, babe." It was Adrian. "Thanks, five!" she shouted back. What? She had learned a little bit here and there from theatre class by in high school! But she'd never been the star of the show there, oh no––she had always been a little too shy to audition for the school's shows. But now? Now she was the star of every single show BHL put on. Now she was the best. And it was times like these that Tabitha could just forget about all the other shit in her life, and just... be the best.

"Showtime."

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TAGG••• Lukey!

[Luke Shaw]

_{DISCO CLUB,}

( if the ladies in the disco club,

[/b][/size] )
a r e • f r e a k i n • i n• t h e • d i s c o• c l u b• t h e n • t a k e • m e
^{to the disco club}[/i][/center][/font]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Don't judge. Luke isn't at the Beating Hearts lounge for the reason which you think. Well, not entirely. He knows exactly what it's like to be the giver and be on the recieving end of the body selling business. No, not like that. He modeled, and he also takes photographs, so get your mind out of the gutter. Although, that seems to be difficult since he was entering a strip bar. Luke heard they made really good martinis in this place. He could be coming for one of several reasons, or, more likely than not a combination of them all. First of all, Luke needed to relax. It was a difficult life being a single bachelor in a big city, boy I tell you what. He had no one to look after except for himself, not even a mangy dog. Luke was still spreading his wings and freeing himself from his unbearable past. If you had told Luke when he was nine years old that he would be sitting in a strip club in fourteen years, drinking alcohol and playing with a lighter, he would have been struck dumb. That kid probably would have passed out on the floor and prayed to the man above to save his soul. This was how far Luke had come. He didn't go home - Luke hadn't been home since, since he left. He'd seen his family a handful of times when they came here, but Luke had not laid eyes on that Jesus decorated household since he become a legal adult. In short doses, he played the wayward but settled christian adult well. But, if he were to stay at that house for a weekend? more? Luke might slip. He may swear, he may say he needed a drink, he would certainly do something that would have the Christmas cookie tray tumbling to the floor, followed by a horrendous silence. It's why he stuck to his strip of Brooklyn and avoided upstate New York whenever possible. It's why Luke led himself to drinking and gambling. He wanted to defy everything that he felt like was suffocating him for all those years. So, although Luke didn't particularly care about going to strip club, seeing a bunch of mostly naked girls when he'd seen billions back stage completely undressed ready to walk to catwalk, he was still here. Just to stick it to the man.

Of course, those women were so thin you wondered if they were women at all. And, they didn't dance. Luke was still a man and it was enjoyable. He wasn't desperate alright? If Luke wanted action he could get some action. He resigned himself to being home most of the time, anyway. He was a complicated guy because everything about him seemed to say he should be really social. But, he wasn't. Something held him back. He talked to a lot of people, but usually it was to antagonize them. He didn't understand this complusion any more than you do. Luke took a seat at a table near the front. Two other men were located at it, and Luke, using his observations skills, realized there were three types of people in here. There were the much older men who were horny over young girls, there were the still-haven't-hit-puberty-yet boys with their grandpas (Luke smiled fondly at the memory of his own pap's taking him to one), and then there were a few....females. I hardly find it necessary to describe them. He was the odd-duke out. The young, good-looking single guy. There was a group over in the corner getting rowdy, some kind of bachelor's pre-wedding outing. The show must have been beginning soon because pretty girls in blingy costumes were walking around hastily back and forth between the customer area and backstage. Luke rolled his cup around, making the ice cubes inside tinkle against the glass. He took a few sips of the crisp liquid and leaned back in his soft chair. This was a little more of a pricy outing than he seemed to be able to afford, but Luke liked to splurge everything he earned gambling. He would earn this all back anyway - you know what he did after nightfall and once this was through he was hitting the tables. Number six ball, corner pocket. Nailed it every time. Luke had is usual shades on, shamefully covering up his unique eyes. Truely, he didn't like people staring at him. But, as the lights dimmed he took them off and folded them up, hooking them onto the pocket of his shirt. Luke removed his nice leather jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. His helmet was locked up in his motorcycle seat outside. Rugged but well-kept blue jeans completed the package and he looked edgy, and yet rather classy at the same time.

The crowd began cat-calling for the girls waiting behind stage, and Luke smirked. Shitty job, that was. But how easy was it? They didn't even have to pose for a camera like a real model did. They just took off their clothes and strutted their stuff around on the stage, a.k.a catwalk for a couple minutes until the song ended. If you didn't mind selling yourself it was a decent job to have. Luke was at the Beating Hearts for a creative reason. He was planning on a stripper-type shoot, only with a warped, circus edge. Really if you looked at it, Luke was busy doing his job here . Really. He had to learn how they moved, what clothes (or not) they wore - Luke had to take in the whole atmosphere. His shoot would be something really bizarre. Maybe he'd have a stripper bar but instead of flashing lights streaming down from it, he'd have a small string of animal teeth. The girl could have a painted clown's face. He wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to do yet, thus the bar. If he happened to get a little bit of enjoyment out of this then so be it, you know? It was really hard to take the fun out of everything. Ladies were beautiful right down to every curve and he was gonna like every minute of it. He's a man, deal. Men in this place knew that most of the women on the stage loathed them, but did they care? Noooooo. They don't, because it doesn't matter. "Hey, boy. Your chair is touching my thousand dollar allegator boots." The old man next to him with the mountain man beard was glaring at him, as if Luke had spat in his face. Luke yawned. "Move your boots." The next show hadn't even started, the bar hadn't been opened for very long, and these guys were already piss drunk. The man shoved back his chair angrily and stood up, the vein in his head pulsating. "Are you giving me lip boy? Did you hear what I said? Get your f**king chair off my shoes." Oh, never mind the fact that since the wasted man had stood up, his feet weren't anywhere near Luke's chair. Luke smiled pleasantly, as though they were having a nice conversation. And they said Luke had anger issues, hahaha. Luke didn't like to be intimidated, and although hillbilly Santa was a far cry from scary - he'd barely arrived. Luke stood up and scooted his chair to the left, which seemed to satisfy the drunk fart. He did bother to look down at the man's feet, which made it difficult not to start laughing. He must have been drunk when he bought those shoes too, because they were suade.

"I'm talking!"

[/color]
"I'm thinking!"

[/size] • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

WORDS! 1,273
STATUS! COMPLETE
OUTFIT! He likes them leather coats.
TAGS! Tabitha
INSPIRATION! Relient K - Who I am hates who I've been
TEMPLATE CREDIT! Arro @ Caution 2.0
PICTURE CREDIT! photobucket
[/blockquote]

[Tabitha Clarence]

[glow=red,2,300] SUPERNOVA[/glow]

{ ••• and after he’s been hooked, i’ll play the one that’s on his heart ••• }[/center][/font][/size]

She was a different person, now. Gone was the wistful, pathetic unwed mother of a young son. Gone was the cold, sniveling excuse for a girl shielding herself against the cold. Here in her stead was a confident and beautiful woman who not only had the command of the girls behind her but who wielded the the power to command the attention of the audience as well. This was why Tabitha––why Supernova––always started the show off with a bang, so to speak. Why she was in the front of the assembly of girls, why she was wearing the prettiest outfit and had the prettiest adornments and had the biggest dressing room to provide for all those things. Because she was the best. And she was used to being the best. So, of course, this came naturally. When Adrian had asked her to be the lead dancer, well, she couldn’t refuse. She was young and attractive and she had nothing to lose––plus, the tips from then on out got bigger and bigger due to her prevalence on the dance floor. Tabitha was Queen Bee at the Beating Hearts Lounge, and she liked it. No, she loved it. It was almost like she was back at high school again, and everyone wanted her advice, and everyone wanted her company, and everyone wanted her boyfriend. Hell, everyone wanted to be Tabitha Clarence. But then she got pregnant, and the envy stopped, and her boyfriend went away. Recalling that feeling of horror and fright was enough to make her stomach churn again, and Tabs tried to shoo those thoughts away as she closed her eyes and prepared to go onstage. She wasn’t going to let Cody or Alan enter her thoughts right now––no, right now, Tabitha had to focus on what she was about to do. She had to do it especially well tonight, too, for she was starting to run out of money and she was also starting to run out of food. She hadn’t eaten in hours and she was starting to feel a little nauseated. The stage lights didn’t really make things any better, but Tabitha was nothing if not resilient, and she would manage. She fidgeted lightly in her silver spiked stilettos and let a shiver run down her spine as the curtains opened and the rest of the girls, making a V shape with Tabitha at the center, crowded the stage. The spotlight shone on her, and she opened her eyes, her entire body glittering in the brightness of the stage. The music started, and Tabitha took a step onto the stage, her tiny form bathed in light. Cheering sounded from the dark audience, and Tabitha felt herself glow with a sort of demented pride as she gracefully danced in her seven inch stilettos over to the pole center stage.

The nice thing about the Supernova act was that it was different from any of the other girls’. It was slower, capitalizing more on tension than on immediate results. She could take her time, sing along with the music... which she often did, for she had a halfway decent singing voice, and it made the whole experience a bit more enjoyable for her. Hmm. What was the song playing now? ‘Physical,’ by Olivia Newton-John. Fitting. She let the ghost of a smile appear on her pale face as she neared the pole center-stage and wrapped her hands around it. She slid her leg around the other side and pushed her middle forward until it collided with the pole, all the while humming the chorus of ‘Physical.’ She twisted slowly around the pole, giving the audience a clear view of every side of her before she finally settled back into the same position in which she had been at the beginning. She felt so powerful when on the pole, center-stage, spotlighted and special. Tabs closed her eyes again and slid down its cold, silver surface smiling as she mouthed the words ‘body talk’ in tandem with the song. Then, she dropped to the floor and laid her back to the stage, tilting her head toward the audience and winking suggestively at a few of the guests she’d happened to meet eyes with. Her act was slow and sultry, which was nice, because Tabitha thought that was slightly more respectable than the other girls’ acts––dancing around lewdly on poles and jiggling around their jugs. Yes, Tabitha liked to view the Supernova act as truly an artistic expression of more base human desires, and that was how she looked at it. But, she had to focus now on her own act, not her lessers’. She pulled one thin leg up and stretched it out provocatively, sliding her other leg out to do the same. Then she flipped up to her side, her red hair––almost blood red in the stage light––sweeping around the side of her face. She looked around the audience for a face in the blackness, and––whoah. There was a guy right near the front of the stage who looked like a damned supermodel, and he was staring right at her. Oh, well, duh, she thought with a smile––she was the star of this, of course he was staring at her. And she would stare right back. She’d might as well capture the moment in her memory, as pretty boys rarely showed up here. He must have been a pretty rich boy or something, someone who had cash and time to kill. Tabitha liked him, at any rate. She leaned forward, recommencing with her act after a second of delay, just forward enough to give the audience a slight peek of what lay beneath her thin silk shirt. There wasn’t much there, admittedly, but most of these guys had never seen any action anyway, so even a B cup was enough to excite them. But at present, Tabitha suddenly only had eyes for the guy in the front row.

She slithered off the stage, continuing with her act, until she reached the table where the hot guy was sitting. She put one leg up on the table, kicking off the ashtray and one empty beer glass. She leaned forward and got a few inches away from the guy’s face, at which point she whispered, suggestively, “Let’s get physical.” Winking at him and then standing fully on the table, Tabitha waited for the song to change before she launched into her second, more fast-paced act. She tapped her foot on the table and turned her rear to the hot guy, realizing that she needed to give attention to the rest of the room as well. A couple of the older guys at the table slid tips into her panties, and after she had collected a sufficient amount there she moved around to all the other tables, dancing boisterously in order to get heavier tips. When she was through and the song changed again, Tabitha mounted the stage again and commenced another dance. This one was slow again, and she did more with the pole. At this point, about an hour had passed and Tabitha had forgotten all about her son and her stress––she’d forgotten everything, even how hungry she was. She was no longer Tabitha Clarence, but Supernova, star of the Beating Hearts Lounge. She was no longer the impoverished mother of a two year old boy, but a sexy young dancer at a strip club who had her whole life ahead of her. And she’d made a ton of money tonight through tips, so she’d be able to eat later. Excitement flared through her at the prospect of eating, and so Tabitha sped up the rest of her dance until, finally, the show was over. She was exhausted, but she also doubled as a waitress, so she had to go suit up for that and help the other girls prepare for the rest of the shows, which lasted well into the evening. Most of it was just pole-dancing and stripping––the main show was over. She left the stage with a round of applause and then went back to her dressing room, where she switched into her tight, short waitress dress and went back out to the tables she’d just danced on to take their occupants’ order. Of course, she started with the hot guy’s table in the front. As she approached him, she allowed herself a smile. He really was––“Whoa, get off!” Tabitha stopped dead in her tracks, eyes widening as one of the uglier older men at the hot guy’s table reached forward to make a grab at her boob. Having missed, he encircled her waist and pulled her down on his lap, where he attempted to kiss her neck. “Jesus Christ, get off of me!” she shouted, struggling against him. His grip was extremely tight, though––and it frightened her. Hopefully Adrian would be by soon to stop this, because he didn’t like it when guys touched without paying.

[/color][/blockquote]

[Luke Shaw]

-----"Don't give me drama baby, don't pout," -----

ooc: well, hopefully I was allowed to play the creepy guy haha because I powerplayed him.

Again, don't judge. He was at a strip club watching a half naked-girl dance around but.......okay it wasn't entirely business. It's not like he was like the rest of the low-lifes here, incapable of getting laid no matter what they did. Luke could, he really could but first of all - he didn't like putting in the effort of smooth talking a girl when she was highly likely to drive him crazy the more he got to know her, and he didn't really want to get into anything right now. If she didn't drive him nuts, he'd like her, and liking girls led to acting stupid, and acting stupid led to believing they cared about you as much as you cared about them, and suddenly after you spent a lot of money on their lying ass, they went off with another guy and did the same thing to them. No no, Luke didn't believe all women were like that, it just happened to be the women he was attracted to. He'd been burned before and he was going to take it nice and slow right now, date around, nothing serious. Only, he didn't feel like putting in the effort tonight. There wasn't anything wrong with looking at a little bit of leg....or a lot of leg, this redheaded woman had a pair on her. Oh god he hoped she was of legal age or he was really going to feel like a sicko. You never know in these joints - they don't follow code. No, there was nothing wrong with this, plenty of men did it and if the women hated it so much, they would have adopted a different job. Don't give him that crap about how there wasn't anything else - there was normal waitressing that gave good tips, and you didn't have to have education for that. While "Supernova" danced, Luke rubbed the temples of his forehead, annoyed that he was giving himself a headache and causing himself to not enjoy this like he should. Why did he have to convince himself that having a drink and being at a strip bar was okay? Because he could never get the voice of his mother, even in a place like this, out of his head. This religious upbringing that said he would be condemned to hell for any sort of fornication. Technically though, he wasn't fornicating. He was just watching a girl dance. I mean...."Luke Shaw, kneel before baby Jesus. Pour out your soul. My children won't be sinners! I won't let you be lost to the paths of unrighetousness, even in your wild wa..." Luke shook his head and downed the rest of his drink. That was what he meant when he said he couldn't get her out of his head. She made him feel so guilty about stuff.

The girl danced slow, it was kind of memorizing the way she moved. No, hypnotizing. Was that typical of strippers? He thought they were faster and more flashy. Luke mused over this, getting ideas for what kind of backdrops he could have for his photoshoot. There was a fine line between creative and skanky and he knew the concept of photographing a stripped would make him tread it, but he thought it could be done in a tasteful manner. Oddly, Luke thought she was staring at him. She must be looking in his general direction - she had to keep her audience focused with her and give them attention, but his eyes seemed to be connecting with her's quite a lot. His eyes. Well, he did have stunning eyes. Eyes that tended to give him so much attention he didn't like it. Her hair is what captivated him. Long natural-looking red hair that swayed and flowed and followed her body's direction. She was definitely looking at him. Luke didn't feel like he had to look away since he was paying to watch the show, but even if he had wanted to he really couldn't. Luke's piercing eyes stared right back at her while she slowly made her way off the stage and headed....for his table. The ashtray to his left next to "allegator" guy fell off on the floor and he hoped it landed on the man's precious boots. "Let's get physical." Mm hmm, let's. Her legs went on for miles. The men next to him laughed rambuctiously, enjoying their up close and personal view of the night's entertainment. Luke had to be the least creepy and horny guy in the place but Supernova was giving him all the attention. Come to think of it, that's probably why. As one who had to model before, he understood the similar feeling of being tired of simply being a piece of meat molded to other people's expectations. Luke had gotten out - or at least tried to. There was always someone trying to reel him back in, dangling something special in front of his face to get him to take the bait. Supernova jumped up on their table and he smiled at her geuinely. She was a good dancer, even nakedness aside. All the guys around him were stuffing tips in her underwear and given that she had just given Luke a private show, he ought to be doing the same. But going to a strip bar and enjoying himself was one thing, sticking his hands all over her va-jayjay was another thing entirely. He'd give her a tip when she came around for her waitressing rounds. Luke leaned back in his chair and looked up at her, ignoring the glares he was recieving from the man next to him. Loser would get over it. She left the table but Luke's eyes followed her until the show ended and the crowd erupted in cheers. He put his hands together and clapped for her until she'd left the stage.

When he smelt food coming from somewhere in the kitchen, Luke's stomach growled. How long had it been since he'd eaten? He wasn't sure. You know the creative types, they forget about food when they're wrapped up in a project. It would be good to eat something, but Luke was probably just going to buy another low-calorie drink. Yeah, he'd made a promise to Fredo that he would do a runway event for him, because Fredo had done free styling on a model Luke was shooting - if she could even be called a model. He'd seen children models more mature than her. Luke doubted this was going to be his last favor-for-a-favor with Fredo either, because the more people he decided to shoot, the more help he was going to need with the beauty part of it. Anyway, the point was since he was doing runway, even as a guy, he had to stay pefectly slim. Yeah it meant a diet for his already hot physique. Bleh, that was why modeling was shit. Men were supposed to get fat and stuff their faced - it was normal. And he exercised a lot, but it was never enough in the modeling world. Sure enough, the star of the show (the only girl Luke had been watching) walked to their table to take the orders. Luke would just hand her her tip, he didn't care what kind of jeers he would get from the guys around him. He was somewhat of a gentleman, his mom had raised him better than that. Luke browsed the small menu with his eyes, looking at the few food selections they had with slightly envious eyes before he turned it over to the drinks. Whoa, get off! Luke looked up at the waitress. That same idiot he was sitting next to him made a swipe at her but she dodged successfully. He rolled his eyes - a classic expression. But then he was going for a second try and he pulled her down in his lap, kissing her. What the hey? "This isn't a brothel," Luke couldn't help but saying to the guy. The girl's protests indicated she clearly agreed. The man ceased in his kisses long enough to give Luke another threatening look. "What did you say to me kid?" Calm as a cucumber Luke repeated his statement. "I said it isn't a brothel. Stop trying to think with your dick and let the girl go." Okay he wasn't sure why he was saying anything. He didn't know this chick, he couldn't risk getting in a fight (or at least, you shouldn't risk), and Luke had never thought of himself as the guy with a heroic need to be filled. Yet here he was, and people around him were starting to stare. The man, his angry mug staring straight into Luke, pushed Tabitha off his lap and stood shakily on his feet, standing dominately over Luke he was still in his chair. Now, Luke could give himself a million excuses. He could say that he was really buzzed, it was late, he wasn't at his best, and he didn't want to get into a fight. But when it came down to it - this was just bigger than him. So when Luke stood up and the man popped him square in the face and Luke fell back against the chair and onto the floor.....he wasn't really sure what to say to himself about that, other than shit, Fredo's gonna kill me with one of his psycho-looking hair combs. Luke coughed and spat, putting his hand up to his mouth. Blood came off onto it and he knew this was going to leave a hell of a welt.