Jill Mastrano Dragomir (surpriseroyal) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-10-31 07:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, alak tarr, jill mastrano dragomir |
WHO: Jill Mastrano Dragomir and Alak Tarr
WHERE: Some club
WHEN: Before Rose’s Arrival
WHAT: A first date? Kinda?
RATING: PG
STATUS: log; completed
“We've secured you a table at the side of the room,” said Luca, head of Jill’s security detail in California. “Angeline and Edward, and Mason and Marie will have tables next to you. If you want to dance, that's fine; just make sure you stay near the edge where you can be covered.” Jill listened closely, making mental notes in her head. She wasn't sure what this bar was going to look like, but she knew Luca and his team had already investigated it - as they had her date for the night. So far nothing has come in as being too out of the ordinary: Alak was exactly who he said he was, but Luca was digging deeper into his background to ensure he wouldn't be a danger. Jill didn't mind. Sure, she wished she could have more freedom and didn't have to invade the privacy of any boy who took an interest in her, but she knew what was at stake. And having already nearly died once, she wasn't really keen on repeating the experience. Luca and his team were really good at what they did, and they were always cognizant of the fine line between protecting her and letting her live her life. That left Jill to just remember their instructions and to worry about what she was going to wear for the evening. She'd been to a few clubs with some of the other royals at Court, but they were exclusive and ritzy, and the place Alak was taking her to seemed a bit more down to earth. After a lot of dithering that ended up with nearly her entire wardrobe tried and discarded on her bed, Jill ended up with a simple attire of laced tights, short black skirt, and a bat winged black shirt for texture. She accessorized with a clunky gold necklace, kohled eyes and bright red lips for a look she hoped would make her look a little more mature. Alak looked older than she was, and he carried himself with so much self-assurance she wanted to try to match it. Having arranged to meet him outside the pub, Jill stepped out of the cab and searched for his distinctive blue hair. *** Clothes were important to class distinctions in the Old Country. Alak Tarr had grown up in a house where his mother chose his wardrobe for him. Every day of the week had a specific set of outfits and they were sets of clothing, too. He had to change multiple times a day for every individual activity in order to show his family's wealth, their success, all the reasons why they should be respected; his family's reputation was alleged to hinge on his ability to wear the right clothes at the right hour of the right day. Alak had brought only one set of clothing -the one he was wearing- with him to America when he chose to separate himself from his family to pursue his own dream. His honest dream. Some girls thought guys never considered their clothes at all. Some guys most likely didn't from what Alak had seen roaming the streets after a certain hour of the day. He was not one of those guys even if he was a long way off from the boy whose clothing had been chosen for him by his mother for every hour of every prearranged day. He'd met Jill at a salon which meant she already knew he was a vain guy. She wouldn't care if he dressed a little hipster with a long-sleeved shirt topped with a vest he left unbuttoned and slacks in the same slate color as the vest. His boots were a dove grey and worn from years of wear-and-tear. Alak figured if he was a little hipster for his matching boots and shirt, vest and slacks, and his leather armbands, well, Jill had seen him getting a scolding by a stylist and still gone out with him. That said something, right? "Hey, beautiful," Alak offered as he made his way to Jill in front of the club, "I'm glad I have a habit of being on time. I'd have hated to show up late and give someone a chance to steal you away while you were waiting outside for me. Tell me you haven't been waiting long." ~*~ It was definitely something. Jill had been intrigued by his unique style from the start, so the hipster look was actually tame for what she’d been expecting. It looked good on him, though, and she smiled happily at him when he made his way over. “No, I just got here myself,” she said, lacing her fingers together to restrain her hands. She had a tendency to gesticulate when she was nervous as well as babbling, and she didn’t want to come across as a spazz within the first minute of their date. If this was a date. She still wasn’t sure about that. But he’d called her beautiful and didn’t want someone else to steal her away, which had to mean something. It seemed so, anyway; Jill wasn’t sure. She hadn’t exactly had a lot of experience with dating. “You look very nice,” she ventured. “I didn’t know what would be appropriate for the club, so I hope this…” her hands fluttered to indicate her outfit “...is okay.” *** "It's a little Goth, but I like a little Goth so I think it's a great look for you. I'm glad I haven't scared you off with the hipster vibe. I'm trying to be less annoyed about my hair refusing to stay dyed which is way too much drama to start the night off." Alak had a tendency to speak his mind without censure. It was an unfortunate side effect of growing up in a viper's nest. He offered Jill his arm to take her into the club. The place wasn't really as Scene as Alak tended to spin at himself, but they did have a killer set list for live bands and he always preferred a live band over a DJ unless he was the one doing the spinning. There seemed to be a fairly modest crowd which worked to his advantage. Nothing worse than feeling as if he had to shout at a date because he'd picked a place too loud for conversation. "Walk with me. I'll show you around in case you haven't been inside already. I'm doing my best to appear gentlemanly. If I start to failboat? Let me know. I do know how to treat a lady even if it's been longer than I'm willing to admit since I had a date." He didn't notice anyone out of place within the club. It all seemed normal to him if a little on the sparse side for a crowd during peak hours. Alak wasn't paranoid the way his parents were and he felt grateful to be able to say as much. Who wanted to spend their life worrying about someone trying to take it instead of living it while they were alive? Everyone died sometime. Death was inevitable. Why waste life worrying about it? "So, world's fastest tour: entrance checkpoint where they don't ask me for ID since they know me, bar on either side, kitchen to the far left with tables set up there and a few tall bar sets on the right, stage front-and-center with a matching dance floor. It's not Carnegie Hall, but it's a fun place for a guy trying to make a good first impression. Or so I hope. How am I doing so far?" ~*~ “Pretty good,” Jill told him. She'd never really liked dissembling, and she liked that he seemed to be open with both his thoughts and intentions. After three years of palace intrigue, it was nice to just be a girl on a date (she was pretty sure this was a date by now). Mostly. Because while he may not be part of any intrigue, she still had to keep her security contingent in mind. She glanced around the club as he gave her the express tour, and when she spotted the guards Luca had told her to expect, she tugged lightly at his arm. “Can we sit by the dance floor?” she asked, indicating the table that had been left open for her. “When does the band start?” *** "Pretty good is better than pretty bad. I'll take it." Alak grinned, unable to help the fact he was slightly proud of himself for having managed this far with Jill. She seemed so ordinary. Was he doing the right thing? Asking her out? Dragging her into his insane life? It wouldn't matter much if they wound up being friends, he supposed, or if she decided she didn't care enough for him to deal with the albatross he carried around his neck courtesy of OC weirdness. A little surprised at the request, he nodded in agreement, "Sure. People usually don't get rowdy here. We won't be in danger of dancers banging into our spot. Do you like dancing?" He'd been taught how to dance from an early age. It was important in his mother's world; Datak, his father, had wanted nothing more than to pretend he was a part of the world his wife came from which meant it was also important to him. With both his parents pushing him to 'do the right thing' for their family's honor, Alak hadn't stood a chance at saying no. Ballroom and formal routines were a long way from the clubs he enjoyed in California though. Alak couldn't remember the last time he'd danced with anyone---except Christie. It was easier to escort Jill to the table she'd gestured to than to keep thinking about any of the past. He'd rather accept the present than dwell on the past any day. "They've already done their soundcheck so really? We're waiting on the bass guitarist to stop throwing a temper tantrum in the back room. She found out her girlfriend's cheating on her about an hour ago. Should make for a great set." ~*~ “I love to dance,” Jill said, and she was about to inform him that she’d be terribly disappointed if he took her to a place with a live band and ended up not dancing with her, but put that thought on hold when he casually mentioned the guitarist’s personal problems. “Oh, everything’s so scandalous here!” she exclaimed. “The other day? I met someone who’d literally slept her way into a part on a show. I thought it was so sad, but she acted like it was totally normal. I thought that only happened in movies.” While New York - and the ballet corps in particular - was no pure haven where innocence was preserved, Jill still retained enough faith in humanity that such stories still shocked her. *** Grinning wide at the reaction, Alak couldn't help a chuckle, "Scandalous, huh? I have a feeling you're not going to be likely to visit me at my regular job if I get a second date with you." He tried and failed to picture Jill in The Need/Want. There was something pure about her which was lacking in the club he worked regularly. Alak didn't personally take advantage of the offers from the dancers or wait staff or bartenders or---well, he'd never taken anyone up on more than help with a bath in traditional Castithan style. It'd been a nice encounter which he couldn't thank Kenya enough for arranging while she'd been on holiday with her bodyguard. They had a strange relationship, Alak and Kenya. She was close enough to him to make him trust her more than his own mother and had lived a life hard enough to make her roughly the same mental age as his mother. They came from the same place, the same world, knew the same laws. It was easy for him to put his trust in her or go to her for advice. He hadn't told her about Jill yet, but if he got a second date? He knew he would. "Since I know you're going to ask, I work at The Need/Want. It's a---very exclusive club. 21-and-up only. The motto is basically anything you need? Anything you want? We can get it for you. I spin tracks to keep the place jumping. I keep all my clothes on. I'm the only person in the place who can say that if you catch my meaning." ~*~ Jill most certainly got his meaning, as evidenced by her wide eyes. It didn’t help that in that moment, she was also hit by a vision of what he might look like without his clothes on, and the image made her blush and quickly look away. She wasn’t the sort of girl who went around imagining boys without clothes; she was much more likely to develop a crush on the boy band member most likely to be unthreatening and gay. But it was that very edge of danger to Alak, wrapped so snugly in a perfectly gentlemanly and charming demeanour, that she found so fascinating. She’d never met anyone like him. “Oh,” she finally managed. There were so many questions she wanted to ask about his job, about his club, about what he was doing with someone as boring as her, but she couldn’t quite manage to phrase any of them in a way that might sound sophisticated and worldly and cool. “Well, that certainly sounds interesting,” she said, bobbing her head quickly. “You must’ve gotten some really weird requests. I’ve heard a few, the weirdest being a chocolate teapot, like one they actually wanted to put tea in. I mean, what’s the use of a chocolate teapot? It would just melt with the tea! What’s your weirdest request?” As usual when she was nervous, she managed to rattle that all off before taking a breath. *** Blushing women were unusual to the extreme in Alak's life. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen someone blush and believed it to be real, inspired by genuine emotion and not some clever act. Orange County had plenty of aspiring actresses who could do a lot more than blush on command. Alak worked in a club which sold everything anyone could want; he'd seen the employees offer up every fantasy imaginable from the blushing virgin to the salacious whore. "Weirdest request? That's a good one. I tend to reserve judgment on any request I get because who am I to say what's a strange desire or a normal one? My degrees were in music and media arts. I don't have any psychology training. I come from," Alak paused to search for a polite way to explain his family situation, "-a different place with different values. Everyone is a product of their environment in some way or another. For all I know? They're asking for something completely mundane among their peers." People judged him based on his clothes, his hair, the way he carried himself. Alak wasn't the kind of man who wanted to judge others the way he was judged. He was accepting. He liked Jill seemed to be one of those people who accepted others without judging. She hadn't reacted negatively to finding out where he worked at all. She was curious. Alak couldn't have asked for a better reaction from a first date. Shrugging a little, he offered, "I suppose the request I'd consider the most unusual to me was the customer who wanted me to spin The Beatles 'Revolution 9' backwards while one of our dancers lay on the stage with her eyes open looking at him. He evidently had a thing for---stillness and the backmasking on the song was something he liked. A lot. I figure your chocolate teapot customer likely really enjoyed chocolate and tea. A lot." Alak winked at Jill, hoping she'd see the humor in the comparison. ~*~ She did, and she grinned at it. “That’s definitely weird,” she said, though she didn’t judge that, either. When it came to requests, that was a pretty harmless one. She didn’t correct his assumption that the chocolate teapot had come from a customer, either. In fact, it had come from Lissa and Jill’s dotty old uncle who lived in one of the far wings of the palace, but she wasn’t about to tell someone on a first date that she was a princess. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to tell anyone on any date that she was a princess, in fact, and for the first time she realized this could lead her to a sticky situation. She liked Alak, and she really did hope that this date went well so they could have a second one. But if they had a second one, and hopefully a third and fourth one, at one point he was going to ask her about her family and she was going to have to lie to him. She didn’t want to lie to him! He was kind and cute and interesting, and he deserved better than that. Then again, she was probably getting ahead of herself. This was just a first date (It was a date!) and with her luck she’d probably spazz out and scare him off and she’d have to slink away and be a humiliated virgin for the rest of her days. Fortunately, before she was able to spiral off into some doomsday scenario, the server came. Jill ordered pasta, since it was probably safe, and she did have an unreasonable love of carbs for someone who danced. By the time the orders were taken and the server left, Jill had managed to get her thoughts under control. “So you must know the band if you know about their backstage drama,” she said, glancing over to the stage where the members were finally coming on with their instruments. “Do DJs and rock bands party together, or is there some rivalry there?” She mimed a delicate one-two punch to demonstrate. *** "I'm more of a lover than a fighter. I was taught how to handle myself because that was the way things were for guys where I grew up. Lots of bands want to get to know me so I'll consider putting their music on my podcast or using it in one of my sets at a club or event." Alak had a fairly impressive following for a newcomer to the scene. He'd met some of the right people in the right way to get him on The List. There was always a list for every area in the world. In Moscow, his family had been on three different variations of the proverbial "list": The Old World Royalty, The Ruthless Thugs, and The Dangerous Alliances. More than one person had started something with him as a result of wanting to make a name for themselves after having gone after someone one one of the three known lists. He got requests from bands to come see their sets, visit their studios, read their lyrics, and some even offered to use his instrumentals if he'd be willing to put instrumental accompaniment to their vocals which had been the case with this band. Accepting the water glass the server offered him, Alak told Jill, "I met these guys because they wanted me to do the instrumentals for a vocal track they submitted to my podcast. I wrote them some music. We worked it out. I will admit freely in a fight? Their bassist could take me. She fights dirty. I've never had any bands come at me negatively because most bands I meet? Know me before I know them." He shrugged a single shoulder while tipping his hand to her back and forth, a classic Russian gesture which meant nothing and everything at once. There were people who respected Alak for being a musician himself and there were those who thought his choice not to work at composing his own music for his own use was a sign of weakness or a lack of dedication to his craft. Mostly people in the music world thought him valuable because he was neither a threat nor a potential rival and he did offer them what all musicians craved: exposure. ~*~ “Oh, I didn’t know you had a podcast,” Jill said remarked. “What’s it called? I’m not trying to stalk you, honest. I just like music - all kinds. And I like knowing what went into a song, you know? It really helps me understand it, where the composer’s coming from. I know a lot of dancers don’t like it because it affects their own interpretation of a piece but for me I just like knowing the whole story because then it gives me a richer background to pull from.” Oh, had she not mentioned she was - or had been - a dancer? Whups. She hadn’t even noticed, and she went right on. “What’s it like, where you grew up? Was it really rough?” New York was pretty diverse in culture, and Jill had been exposed to a lot of it. But most of the people she encountered had been Americanized to some extent or another, or second generation. She didn’t know a lot of people who’d spent their youths in another country - not until Court, anyway, and that was a whole different ballgame. *** Moscow was another world, Alak had a vision of Nikolai Luzhin's smirking face, his tattooed body, and wondered at his audacity in asking out this girl, this sweet, ordinary girl who had likely never seen violence in her life except on film or the TV. He took a drink of water and his smile faded slightly as he tried to decide if this was a good idea or not. What if his parents got involved in his life again? What if people from home tried to meddle? His life was not entirely his own. "Easy questions first, I guess," Alak managed, "My podcast is Raider Radio. You can pick me up on iTunes or YouTube. I have a channel on both. I don't consider it stalking when it's a pretty girl I'm trying to get to know. I consider that flattering." It was true, too. Alak knew he had been a relatively handsome man. His swarthy complexion and dark hair with dark eyes to match used to attract women who loved the idea of dating an artistic type. Music was a part of him the way a person's blood type was considered to be a part of them; Alak missed the time when all he'd needed to worry about was whether a girl liked his musical interpretations or his favorite live shows or--- "Moscow wasn't easy. My parents---live in the Old World ways there. And here to be honest. People expected me to behave the way a son of my house should behave. Violence is the way of life there. It's not my way of life. I have no interest in being a part of that world. I never did. I paid for that. More than once. My parents and I live separate lives now. It's for the best for all of us." He stopped because they were granted a reprieve by the arrival of their food. Alak pretended interest in his rare filet mignon while avoiding thoughts of his parents. None of the things he used to be able to use as opening lines worked any longer; Alak didn't want to use lines on Jill. She was refreshingly honest. Pure in a way he couldn't quite imagine except when he thought of those earliest days in his relationship with Christie. "You are a dancer. That is much more interesting than my family's criminal activities. Ballet? I have always loved ballet and my mother ensured I learned ballroom dance as well as---cultural dances of our people." Alak took a sip of water to avoid saying anything else about his history. What kind of idiot was he? Did he want to start rambling about Casti culture and being an alien to the only girl to be interested in him in months? Denied. ~*~ Too late. Jill, who’d hung on to every word he said with enthusiastic interest, hadn’t missed his mention of his family’s criminal activities. She hadn’t expected that: when he’d said that he’d grown up in a place where he’d had to handle himself, she’d thought that maybe he’d grown up in the equivalent of a rough neighbourhood, the Russian equivalent of Harlem. It was one thing to grow up in less-than-ideal circumstances, though, and quite another to be part of them. Jill knew he’d said he didn’t want any part of that life, but she could already imagine Luca’s reaction to this piece of information. She was here to stay safe and keep a low profile. Dating the son of a Russian criminal definitely didn’t qualify for either. But maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was. Maybe...maybe by “criminal activities” he just meant selling knock-offs or something. Or possibly being gay. There were a lot of things in Russia that were considered criminal activities. “Alak…” She bit her lower lip. As much as she wanted to just talk about dancing, because she loved dancing and because boys who could dance were rare, she was also aware of her duty to her sister and her country. The whole point of her being here was to keep away from danger, not to court - or be courted by - it. “Your family’s activities - are they the kind that might cause problems for you here?” She looked at him anxiously, hoping - praying - he could tell her no, that he was completely away from all of that so there was nothing to worry about. She really liked him so far, and she really didn’t want to stop seeing him. *** What kind of luck did he have to find the one woman who didn't want to talk about how he looked? Alak snorted a little as he cut his steak, pleased by the scent of his food as it hit his nose, "My family is the kind who can cause problems for anyone anywhere. The good part about my choice to become an American? It shames my father so he cannot send any contact to me in this world from the Old World or he's breaking his own code. He has to shun me. My mother divorced him so he has to shun her. She and I speak. Not often. Never about her business. It's how she knows she can still contact me or I get to make the choice to shun her. It's all very civilized. Crime is its own kind of royalty where I come from and my mother married down. She's still trying to make up for that." He took a bite of the steak and wished he'd been able to ask them to simply warm it. The cooked portions tasted burned to his palate. For the first time in a long while, Alak wasn't self-conscious about eating in front of someone. Jill made him more worried about whether she'd want to associate with someone of his background than whether she could stand seeing his diet. It occurred to him the butcher would likely make an excellent dinner companion for him. She'd not batted an eye at his requests to date. Strange, really, Alak hadn't thought about how isolated he'd become until he was out with a date. "What of you?" He asked as he worked on cutting his steak into even portions, "Any skeletons in your closets or criminals hiding behind the curtains?" ~*~ “Me? No.” Jill laughed, partly from relief, partly from the absurd idea that she, of the wholesome family background, had any kind of criminal connections. She had royal connections, and at one point, should this go further, she would have to tell him about them. But not now. She trusted him, at least enough to believe him when he said that he had nothing to do with his parents’ criminal activities, but not yet enough to tell him who she really was. If the secret had been her own, she might’ve; but this was much bigger than herself, and she wasn’t going to be the one to put her sister’s rule in jeopardy just so she could impress a boy. Even if he was fascinating and charming and different as Alak was. “No, it’s just me, Boring Jill.” And despite her royal blood, she still considered herself plain and boring. She’d grown up in an ordinary neighbourhood to an ordinary family, and just because her mother had been involved in a brief affair with a king didn’t mean Jill inherited any of the poise and glamour that her sister had in spades. She smiled at him as she twirled some pasta onto her spoon. “I’m really glad you’re not involved in any of your family’s activities. I’m pretty sure my family wouldn’t let me date a mobster, or whatever. Actually, I’m pretty sure my family would be happier if I didn’t date at all, so I’m trying to make it as drama-free as possible.” *** "Funny, my last girlfriend's family didn't like me either. I guess I'm just not destined to be the one a girl wants to take home to meet the parents." He was only partly joking. Alak knew Christie's family had better reasons to dislike him than the ones he imagined Jill's would have. They would be right to want better for their daughter than him. Not because of his family though---Alak was more than his parentage and no child asked to be born to their family. That was something he'd always found absurd. How could anyone judge a person based on the circumstances of their birth or their parents? "I've never understood judging someone for the sins of their parents or for their parents at all. No one chooses their parents. Did you get a chance to pick yours? I know no one asked me if I wanted those people for parents. In a Jeopardy! moment, there's no 'mob' in Russia. There are criminal gangs or devoted criminals who choose to live a life of crime known as Vor. They make 'mobsters' look like teddy bears." Alak winked at Jill before taking another bite of his bloody steak. He wondered if he'd get to meet her family. They'd have a second date. He was sure of that. Very sure. Things were going so well he couldn't imagine not getting a second chance. ~*~ Jill tried to imagine Alak, with his love of music and his tendency to be a lover rather than a fighter, growing up in a world that made mobsters look like teddy bears, and she was suddenly very fiercely glad that he'd made it out of there. “I guess it only matters if they're still involved with whatever their parents are up to,” Jill said. “But I always used to wish people wouldn't judge me by what my mother accomplished either.” He'd set her worries about his family and his involvement with them to rest, although she was sure Luca still wouldn't be pleased to hear about who she was associating with. As long as he stayed away from that world, though, it ought to be fine, oughtn't it? She hoped so, anyway. Now she could talk a bit more freely about her family - or at least her mom’s side of it. “My mom used to be a really good dancer,” she explained. “And I think when I started, everyone expected me to be as good as her. But I never was, and I always felt like I disappointed them. Not my mom, though - she always just told me to be the best I could be and not worry about anyone else, but...yeah, I can understand being judged for who my mom was.” *** Everything about Jill was sweet with a kind of innocence Alak felt was foreign to his own life. He couldn't stand the thought someone had made her feel inadequate in any way. She had the kind of beauty one couldn't enhance with cosmetics because it shined from within her. Alak wished, for a moment, he'd been the kind of male who'd have noticed her before he'd started Dreaming. It was a terrible thing to realize he could only truly appreciate her due to having been cut off from everything he'd once called 'normal.' His scarred hand curled into a fist on the table, "I'm certain you're an amazing dancer. So certain, I think the band's about to play our song. You don't mind leaving the table to dance with me, do you?" He put his fork down to stand, offering her his hand with a smile which was anything except forced. The band had been setting up on stage and Alak recognized their intro to the audience as a sign they'd be playing a jazz number which did very well for couple dancing rather than crowd-mobbing. He hoped Jill wouldn't hate them or the lyrics he'd provided. Alak had been hinging his bets on being able to impress her enough for a second date. ~*~ Alak might be surprised and disappointed if he ever found out that in addition to being genuinely sweet and kind, Jill was also a very practiced liar when it came of things she'd been prepared for. She worried about how he would react when he found out, and she worried about what her security detail would say when they realized who she'd gone out with. For now, however, she wanted to just enjoy herself with a man who'd made her feel more like a princess than all the trappings of Court ever had. She set down her fork, dabbed at her mouth, and took his hand. “Okay,” she said, smiling. “Let's see what the Russian crime bosses teach their kids.” *** |