Famous
Who: Andras Kolacsai What: A Night Out When: Late Night Where: Nameless LA Club Rating: Mild (Some Language)
The redhead was sweet. She wore her hair long, in loose curls, and a skimpy little purple dress; something she was wearing smelled like strawberries. It was artificial to be sure, but still soft and pleasant. So sweet.
But it was the brunette who really caught his eye: crowned in loose dark waves that barely fell past her ears and long earrings dripping with gaudy rhinestones that still glittered in the dim light of the club. With milky pale skin and lipstick shades too dark for her pallor, she had the air of a vamp about her; Andy was enchanted.
The redhead leaned over the table, something of a leer on her pretty pink lips. Acrylic nails painted to match her dress drew patterns across the sleeve of his jacket.
“Aren’t you going to tell us your name?” she purred.
Andy chuckled. “Do you really need to know?” he asked, leaned back in the booth as though he were holding court. He couldn’t remember the name of this club, not that it mattered; he knew this type of place all too well. They opened with a splash and a VIP guest list. After a few months, they allowed everyone in and it was thriving as a nightlife hotspot. But it would pass -- the next big name joint would open and in a year’s time, this one would be shuttered.
No great loss.
“Really, Brenda,” the vamp-girl added with a huff, and rolled eyes dressed in thick black liner. She crossed her arms over her chest, pretending to be bored.
Andy knew the game all too well by now to believe it. He knew the type, just as well as he knew the club: wannabe starlets who would latch on to anyone throwing around enough cash to look like they might have an in. Even the huffing and reluctant behavior was all a con.
“Had enough already?” he asked her, a slow grin growing on his face.
The brunette slid into the booth beside him. “Brenda just wants to be famous,” she told him. “She must think you’re somebody, or she wouldn’t still be here.”
The redhead, presumably Brenda, shot her dagger eyes.
“And what about you, sweetheart? Don’t you wanna be famous? See your name up in lights?” Andy asked her, smile still playing on his features.
Brenda laughed. “Ashley just wants to be somebody’s sugar baby,” she chortled. It wasn’t a pretty laugh, too loud and too nasal to be at all endearing.
Nobody’s gonna want to hear that on a screen test, Andy mused silently.
Ashley kicked her friend beneath the table. “Fuck off, Brenda,” she grumbled. She reached into the little purse she carried and retrieved a cigarette and lighter, then turned to Andy and nodded towards the door. “Wanna get out of here?”
“Thought you’d never ask,” Andy told her, quickly ushering her out of the booth.
“Gee, thanks!” Brenda snapped at the other girl. “What the hell happened to solidarity?”
Andy turned back and stared at her a long moment, watching her brown eyes widen and her jaw slacken just a little. Couldn’t be too obvious about it after all.
“Don’t worry about it,” he told her, voice low but seeming to thunder in her ears. “You won’t even remember us by morning.”
Brenda stared on and nodded, just barely, in agreement.
Andy turned back to the brunette and grinned, throwing an arm over her shoulders as they more or less sauntered towards the exit.
“You sure you don’t want to be famous?” he asked casually.
She laughed. “Why? You gonna make me famous, baby?”
Andy chuckled in return. “There’s a lot of ways to be famous, doll,” he said, arm tightening around her as they stepped out into the night.
It was true enough; her pretty corpse would make a few small headlines when it was finally found