Isabela of Rivain (rivainipirate) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-11-07 22:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, candy quackenbush, isabela, remy lebeau (gambit) |
Of course he's yours.
Who: Isabela & Candy Quackenbush (with a bit of Remy LeBeau)
What: Meetings!
Where: Candy's workplace
Status: Complete!
Rating: Teen. Flirting abounds.
Isabela had just wrapped a shoot, and she was in Anaheim at nine at night. Given she didn’t feel like going home at such an hour, she figured she’d stop into a nearby bar and have a pint or two. She headed into the first one she saw, which looked divey, but not scary. Inside, it was about the same. Isabela headed to the side with the female bartender, angling onto a seat, figuring she’d be noticed.
Candy did notice, if only because not a lot of girls showed up at her bar. Most people in the bar were male and over forty. A hot chick around her age was more rare. She smiled at the new arrival, coming over and grinning. “Hey, what can I get for you?”
“Pint of lager? Harp, maybe, or something like?” Isabela smiled. “M’a bit off Guinness; I figure I’d like to try something new.” This girl was awfully young, but seemed to know her drink.
Candy wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t do beer, the temps are way off. It’s warm as shit and half of it’s head. How about a bourbon or a scotch? If you have ice in it, it won’t get you too drunk.” Moving to pour the new arrival a glass of Johnnie Walker Black, she smiled back at the new arrival.
Delightful. Isabela laughed, shaking her head. “All right.” She watched the girl pour and took a pull, nodding. “That’s nice. You know what you’re doing.” Isabela chuckled, fixing her shirt so as not to drip on it. “If you don’t mind my saying, you look like you turned twenty-one maybe a week ago.” The girl could be underage, for all she knew; she didn’t care much.
“Well, you don’t come here all the time. I only give the sad sack regulars beer, but they don’t much care.” Candy grinned impishly, looking around the room. It was a little depressing, but hell, weren’t most bars? But Isabela’s observation made Candy shrug, trying to cover things up. “Not too long ago, nope.” Nobody needed to know she was eighteen, not really.
Isabela laughed. “I just meant you still look young and gorgeous.” No harm in flirting; she was definitely over eighteen. “People are starting to call me ma’am.” She gave it the nasal American accent. “It’s horribly depressing.”
Candy blushed, laughing as she washed glasses. “Well, thank you.” She felt like she could trust the woman and she leaned forward. “I’m really eighteen, don’t feel bad. I just have an awesome fake ID.” She wasn’t going to keep the job for much longer anyway.
“Well played.” Isabela laughed, tipping a salute with the glass. “I just wrapped a shoot in the neighborhood and felt like a pint.”
“Oh, you’re in movies too? So’s the boyfriend.” Candy grinned and poured herself a Coke, sticking with trying to drink less in general, but also not drinking on the job. “What do you do? I’m in love with an explosives expert, so that’s fun. I like the stories.”
“Mm. Boyfriend. Pity.” Isabela winked. “I’m a stuntwoman. Today I jumped into a dumpster; a few days ago I had to ‘get shot’ by an Uzi. I love my job.”
“It’s still pretty new,” Candy grinned. “If you’d seen me a month or so ago, I would’ve scooped you up, promise.” She swigged her Coke and set it back down. “That’s awesome, I wonder if you guys have worked together.”
Isabela laughed. “Perhaps! I know a lot of explosives blokes. I hope I never shagged yours; that’d just be awkward.” She held up her glass in a salute again. “My name’s Isabela, by the way.”
“Even if you did, I wouldn’t blame him.” Candy held up her own glass before moving off to pour a drink for a guy who’d just sat down. He came in intermittently and always tipped pretty well.
Isabela chuckled, watching her go serve a new customer. As she did that, her eye caught the door opening. The bloke walking in was something approaching drop dead gorgeous, and immediately Isabela surreptitiously tugged her shirt just a trifle lower. He was headed this way, but instead of sitting next to her, he went around to the side of the bar, grinning. “Eh, Candy, you runnin’ late?”
Turning to the familiar voice, Candy grinned, walking over to her boyfriend and tugged him down by the shirt for a snog. “Just a little late, I was hanging out with a hot stuntwoman. Do you know her?” Candy waved at Isabela, still leaning against Remy.
Isabela stared, then laughed. “Damn it! Figures he’s yours.” She held out a hand. “The face isn’t familiar to me; I’d have remembered it.” She smirked. “I’m Isabela.”
Remy laughed. “Remy. I remember your face, and if you tell me a few stunts you done, chances are I’ll remember them.” She was gorgeous, and for a split second he regretted the fact that Candy would never go for a threesome, but in another second, he was over it.
Candy blushed beet red, grinning as she nuzzled Remy’s cheek. “Yeah, he’s mine, I’m his.” She took another sip of her Coke, smiling as Remy and Isabela interacted. For a moment there was a twist of jealousy - Isabela was about a hundred times hotter than Candy, and the sort of woman that Remy should’ve been with - but she tried to swallow it down.
Isabela didn’t make a habit of stealing other women’s male or female partners, but if she’d been the type, this one would have made the list. Still, she smiled. “You’re lucky. I married a bastard and he finally died a few years ago, but haven’t found anyone new yet.”
Candy couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the way Isabela had phrased it. “You’ll find someone. Hell, you could’ve had me and Remy both a month ago before he and I met.” She poured Remy a drink too, wiping up her hands and moving to sit between the two of them. She was off work and the new bartender was shooting daggers at her anyway.
“My timing’s always horrid.” Isabela shrugged. “You two are rather sweet, though, so it’s all right.” She smiled. “I’m just glad the husband’s gone … I didn’t kill him, mind, but I didn’t grieve overmuch.” He’d only hit her twice in five years, but most of the time he’d just treated her like another piece of furniture. Eventually she’d gotten wise to the fact she deserved better, and started to have more fun.
Candy looked at Isabela, reaching out to take her hand. “If he did to you what I think he did, good riddance.” Candy was running on intuition and experience. She could smell when someone had been ill treated like she had.
“You’re likely thinking right.” Isabela shrugged. She didn’t want to come off like a victim, but what had happened, had happened. “He mostly ignored me, honestly. He only hit me twice. But then he got hit by a car and died, and I was very much the merry widow.” She laughed. “He only left me about a grand, the bastard.”
That made Candy snort in anger. “Probably as much as he’s worth, and that’s just in scrap.” She held her drink aloft in a toast. “To your freedom. May you find someone who treats you as well as you deserve.”
Isabela smiled, holding up her empty glass. “You’re sweet. Did he say your name was Candy?”
“I did.” Remy smiled at his girl. “She don’t like it, but meh. Could be worse.”
“I hate it, actually.” She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Candy Francesca Quackenbush. Yes, my parents wanted me.”
Isabela tried to hide a laugh with a cough. “I’ve definitely heard worse. I knew a girl whose legal name was Sweety.” Of course, she’d been a stripper, but still. It was a worse name. “Isabela either sounds horribly romantic, or it sounds as though I’ve stepped out of a porny romance novel.”
Candy raised an eyebrow. “I like Isabela. It just sounds like you’ve got some Spanish relatives somewhere.” She smiled at her new friend, figuring that they’d end up hanging out at some point.