working_pride (working_pride) wrote in halcyon_halls, @ 2008-02-05 21:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | ada, nyobe |
Week Three: Thursday
Who: Nyobe and Ada
Where: The club at which Ada plays whose name I have forgotten
When: Thursday, early evening
What: Nyobe cards herself, gets unwanted attention
Despite the island's laws, Nyobe often forced her ID on the bartenders. She was actually a regular Thursday night visitor since she arrived, usually listening to Ada play. Tortured female artists were Nyobe's unintentional preference. Mary J, Shareefa, Loretta Lynn, Keyshia, Big Mama Thornton, etc etc. Ada was a little more country and rock than usual, but Nyobe was okay with branching out a little, musically at least.
Men didn't tend to approach her. She sat on the bar stool directly facing the bar, actually eating one of the sandwiches they served and drinking beer from a bottle. Her jeans fit nicely. Old Navy, Sweetheart fit, although luckily her height and long legs made the hems fall just at her ankle over her half-length camel-colored boots with the inch heel and pointed toe. Shit-kicker boots they got called. They matched her camel sweater with the high neckline. Her chocolate brown jacket hung off the small back of her stool.
Her intense stare, hair straightened to single brown sheets, and general attitude ironically made her stick out like a sore thumb. Nyobe didn't visibly take notice to people taking notice, but she could feel their eyes on her back. Yeah, she knew she was kind of uptight, but she felt like a woman against the world half the time. She really hated attention, too. Nyobe was never comfortable being the center of it.
The bartender, a bald, tall man, three visible tattoos, plain black t-shirt, minimum of facial hair on his chin. Genuine smile. "I heard it's somebody's birthday!" He announced, three people down from her. They'd spoken a few niceties on occassion when it had happened to be slow. Nyobe wasn't rowdy and tipped acceptably. "One on the house, my lady." He slid her a second, full bottle still frosty with cold and took away her old one, nearly empty. She searched his face for some sort of sarcasm, her features hardening just the slightest bit.
He was good. Nyobe immediately thought the gesture was nice and he chose his words carefully. Probably knew how to read his customers extremely well, or even beyond. With the smallest hint of a smile, she raised the new drink to him gratefully, pushing her empty basket with bread crumbs away from her. Anything was better than staying in and sulking.