|Ariel Silverman-Lim (soulsister) wrote in genome_project,|
@ 2012-09-30 01:28:00
|Entry tags:||ariel silverman-lim, david bacchus, september 2012|
Who: David Bacchus & Ariel Silverman-Lim
What: Hittin' up the piano bar, singing, dancing, drinking
When: 9/29, late night
Where: Don't Tell Mama on W. 46th St
Rating: High for all the badassery and bowties
One of the best investments Ariel had ever made was in his fake ID. It was surprisingly credible looking, even boasting a fancy hologram and organ donor heart to make it appear all the more legitimate. He'd bought it off a hallmate freshman year. The kid had been especially handy with Photoshop and convincing forgery, and though the thing had been pricey, it had more than made up for its cost over the past year or so that Ariel had had it. He'd never once been turned away with it. He'd come to consider it something of a good luck charm, really. After all, men in bars were more generous than their sober counterparts, weren't they?
Tonight was like so many that preceded it. It was cool out, but with his scarf wrapped snugly around his neck and a form-fitting woolen cardigan, Ariel made the short walk from West 42nd to 46th, eyes catching on the lights from all the buildings that reflected on the wetness that still laid on the streets from the day's earlier rain. He jogged down the steps, under the awning emblazoned with 'Don't Tell Mama' and the posters advertising acts that would soon be visiting. He smiled as he approached the door. It was with his trusty ID card that he managed to squeak in and down, into the bar area.
After sweeping his eyes around the room, Ariel took a seat at the bar, resting his hands on the laquered surface. He gave the barman in his red vest a bright grin, then looked toward where the pianst was busy banging out a lusty set of notes. A woman was up at the mic, swaying out of time to a song from nearly 70 years ago. From Grease. The boy tapped his foot idly to the music, moving in his seat, and waited for David to show. David Bacchus. The man was intimidating - in his talent and his hunkiness. A part of Ariel was nervous - it was always nerve-wracking being around someone who sent your stomach into freefall, but it was also exhilirating. That was the kind of thing he lived for. That, and Ariel was far from shy. Mostly, though, he was just looking forward to kicking the older man's ass in front of a room of half-drunk strangers.