2011 06 15: Three Barbies And A Ken

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Mission Name: Three Barbies And A Ken
Date of Mission: June 15, 2011
Locale: Club Diablo

Three blondes and one not blonde sit at the bar and have a conversation from everything about clothes to booze to money to boys.

Geoff Mimi Tamara Winter

On Geoff's day off, he has the chance to get away from the club scene and…go enjoy the club scene. But the club scene somewhere else. Although this is a cool club, Geoff doesn't seem overly concerned with being cool. He's wearing his usual wifebeater and ratty jeans, slouched on a barstool over a clear drink in fancy glassware.

The throbbing beat is like a second heartbeat in her limbs and her shoulder aches for it. Wincng some, her hand lifts to rub at her shoudler and after being let in, she gives a look back over her shoulder. She isn't the most glammed up, that is for sure, but she's done her best. BLonde hair is washed and still a little damp and the one shouldered top settles from her right shoulder which seems thicker than the other.

She pushes her way to the bar and leans against it, smiling as she sighs, looking quite happy to have made it to the small little watering hole amongst the sea of bodies. "Give me a gin and tonic and have another gin and tonic ready." She intones as the bartender is stopped by her outreaching hand, perching on the lower bar rail to do so. She's tall, but she needs a little extra help to lean over that bar-top.

"Hard day, sister?" Geoff asks at the woman's double drink order. He only bothers to give her a glance, though, so if he's trying to pick her up, it's a pretty non-chalant start. He sips his own drink.

"Day?" SHe counters, her head turning to look him over a moment. "How about a hard month..I got some catching up to do. I missed last night." She reaches out for the first drink, drowning her words with it rather swiftly. With the gin burning its way to her stomach, she is starting to pull on the second. "Keep them coming.." She manages to say and pushes over a fifty. SHe leans into the bar, no stool available as she has made herself a little comfortable amongst strangers."

"How'd you miss it?" Geoff wonders. "Sleep through it?" It doesn't look like he's slept in a couple of days. Or maybe he just has such a hard lifestyle that he always looks tired. "You're s'posed to be able to tell your troubles to the bartender," he comments, "But I don't think those guys listen at a place like this. Music probably blows their hearing anyway…" He and Winter are at the bar, he in his nondescript man clothes, she in a one-shouldered top.

Leaning into the bar, she lifts a brow, "Missed a month?" She laughs, "I wish I had…" SHe murmurs over her gin and tonic. She slams it back, the second in five minutes and sets it down. She clears her throat and then lifts the glass up to tinkle the ice against the sides. "Here we go..another." She intones, "Well you keep good company…care to do a girl a favor and not let her drink alone?" She offers a pleasant smile, "First shots are on me.."

It doesn't take Mimi long to find her way to the bar. She's dressed in a sapphire blue strapless cocktail dress that looks like a throwback to an 80s prom night, complete with black flats and a low side ponytail. It is the very best of 1980s chic and for some reason Mimi is wearing it in 2011. She bellies up to the bar and looks around before trying to get the bartender's attention. "An appletini on the rocks. Light on the rocks. I don't want it diluted."

Geoff looks over at Winter, smirking slightly. "Honey, nobody drinks alone when they hang out with me," he tells her. "'Specially if they're buying. You go on and buy me whatever you want." He offers a quick smile and then finishes off his drink. He glances Mimi's way, but doesn't address her.

As the bartender returns to administer to Winter, she grins and says. "Another of these, make it a double and then get us a shot of patron. No limes and all that. Straight up." She advises. She settles back and draws one foot off the bottom bar rail as she waits. "Well good to know i got someone willing to be a fish with me." She says and then her head turns to follow his gaze towards the incoming blue wearing Mimi. A brow lifts and she nods her head to the other woman.

"Drinkin' like a man, huh?" Geoff asks Winter when she refuses limes and salt. "But yeah, who objects to free booze?" he wonders. "Maybe, like…rich Baptists?" With his Southern accent, it's hardly a surprise that he picks that example.

Mimi glances between the two and furrows her brows. The thought of Patron without a lime seems to disagree with her distinct tastes. She moves up to a stool and sits down, reaching to rake a hand through her perfectly coifed hair. Naturally, this leaves a little less than perfect. She does a doubletake at Geoff before asking him, "Gigi?" As her appletini is set in front of her, she reaches out to take a long sip of it.

The club isn't really as high end or exclusive as the sorts Tamara usually frequents - and no doubt, she will share that detail if asked. But it's Wednesday night and she needs a drink and a dance and to take her mind off a few things, so to Club Diablo it is. A short skirt, incredibly high heels and a practically see-through top get her through the line in record time, and then there is yet another blonde woman scoping the club as she makes her way inside. The first stop, of course, is the bar, and so T begins edging her way through the crowd to reach that bastion of liquor.

That accent makes her smile and she let's her own come out now, that southern drawl lingering in her voice. Winter laughs, "Well baptists drink in their own way, they don't need patron." She mumurs and as the shots are set before them, she reaches her hand out to take it and lift it up. She turns to Geoff and offers a toast towards him. "To brethren.." She says that in such a way as to indicate the good ol' South.

Geoff pokes his tongue into the inside of his cheek when he is hailed by his stage name. Then he smiles a little. "Hi," he says, turning his head to look at her. "I guess we've met." he looks her over, trying to remember. "Unless you liked me so much in the show you found out my name." Quick visual Adam's apple check on Mimi and then Geoff looks to her eyes. Then he divides his attention enough to look back to Winter. "And…sistren? I guess?" he jokes, takes a breath, then shoots the tequila with nary a grimace or shiver.

"I can't remember going to the show, but I know I was there because that guy at the door took my card. I think it was a guy, anyway…" Mimi says, murmuring the last bit. She looks over at Winter and then to Tamara. Woo, Barbie Doll central up in here. The younger woman fans herself and then does a doubletake over at Tamara's scandalous top. "Whoa. Where did you get that? I'd love to get one! I don't know where I'd wear it, I have to be on my best behavior, but it's…" Cute doesn't seem a fitting word. "…Risque. Paris risque, even. Did you get it in France?" Now Mimi turns to scrutinize Winter's clothing too. Hmm.

Tamara looks over as the younger blonde addresses her, offering an approving smile for Mimi's good taste in recognizing good taste when she sees it. "I did, actually, yes. Good eye. A tiny fashion house just off the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honor," she informs the woman, speaking the name with an almost convincing French accent. It's then that she notices Geoff just down the way and offers him a friendly nod of greeting, somehow not seeming terribly surprised to run into him here.

"Sistren.." She murmurs and sets down the shot glass with a faint smirk before the gin and tonic is retrieved. Counting number three. Winter turns ther glass around on the tabletop and finally sighs. Her head tilts and as she is not sitting down, leaning instead. She likes her drinks on the go. "Little loud here and no pool.." She says.

"It was probably a guy," Geoff confirms to Mimi. He lifts a hand to give Tamara a casual wave, not getting in the middle of couture talk. Doesn't seem like the kind of guy who gets to Paris a lot. He looks back to Winter. "You're quieter than my usual sisters." He lifts an eyebrow. "Yeah, that's kinda how clubs are. Maybe you should check a neighborhood bar."

Mimi nods to Tamara approvingly. "I'll have to make a note for it. I'm hoping that we can vacation there this summer, but with daddy's schedule…" The girl lets out a wistful sigh and shrugs her shoulders, finishing down her appletini. She seems to have a mild moral dilemma. She eyes the bartender longingly before a 'chirp chirp' noise sounds from her purse. She reaches into it and takes her cell phone out, looking mildly annoyed. "Ugh! Foster! Why can't you just… not… do that!" She doesn't bother to text whoever Foster is back, simply waving the bartender down. "I want a Patron shot, but with lime. Sorry. I can't be as badass as some people." Mimi looks at Winter when she mentions a pool, tilting her head. "A pool? In a bar? How delightfully absurd!"

"Who needs daddy's schedule as long as you have daddy's money," Tamara points out pragmatically, idly drumming her fingers on the bar's surface. While Geoff and Winter discuss family and Mimi sees to her phone, T takes the opportunity to order herself a simple martini. She arches an eyebrow at Mimi's outburst, turning back to the younger woman. "At any rate, I certainly recommend Paris, of course. But the real trick is to get out of the main fashion district - that's fun for a visit, but if you want cutting edge, you need to explore the back streets."

Tequila swallowed and no more free shots immediately forthcoming, Geoff orders himself another vodka tonic. He glances at Mimi, but doesn't get nosy about her texting situation.

"That's what I say, but daddy is going to cut me off unless I behave myself. I punched a guy in Starbucks the other day. I think he was unconscious for a minute or two…" Mimi muses to herself briefly before she shakes her head. "Anyway, yeah." The bartender comes up to ask Mimi for her ID, which she pulls out, smiling like in the picture. Twenty-one, see? Yeah, totally twenty-one. Close enough, at least. She puts the ID back in her purse and looks at Tamara. "The back streets? That does sound delightfully dangerous. Thanks, I'll give it some consideration." She turns to Geoff and smiles at him widely. "And how have your performances been going? I… wish I could remember…" Damn that black out drinking. Damn it.

"Then I suggest you behave yourself," Tamara has to concur with a wry little grin. "Or come up with your own source of income." She takes her martini when it's offered, finding a spot to lean against the bar where she can both take part in the conversation and scope out the dance floor. A slight lift of her brow might suggest some doubt about Mimi's ID, but she's not saying anything about it if that's the case. "Some of the back streets are more dangerous than others. But if you're lucky, you can make a real discovery. And if you give them business now, they'll be grateful even after they make it big. You'll definitely want some of those sorts of favours." She looks over to Geoff as Mimi asks him about his shows, indicating some interest in the answer herself.

"Well, just come by again," Geoff tells Mimi. "And stay away from the Long Island ice teas." He rolls a shoulder. "We're rehearsing a new show. As usual. I'm still trying to talk my way out of doing some stupid Kardashian bit." He narrows his eyes. "Can you not smoke in here?"

Mimi seems puzzled, trying to figure out what the Hell she actually even drank that night. She slumps a bit before her purse begins to make that 'chirp chirp' noise once more. She digs her phone out and reaches for her newly arrived shot of Patron, downing it all, lime not needed. "Hey, you're both… girls." That's basically all Mimi needs. Geoff is a guy, of course, but when he goes by the name Gigi… "I need some boy advice." Thankfully she does not go on about it without being asked.

"Do people actually still care about that famewhore family?" Tamara asks, looking surprised that their fifteen minutes of fame somehow aren't over yet. "I'd definitely keep talking if I were you," she advises Geoff. "No one wants that." Mimi gets a sidelong glance as she reaches for her phone again, but soon T's attention is back on Geoff. "Pretty sure this draconian city has a blanket ban. On the plus side, it will give you a chance to hang out with the homeless man on the corner." She takes a sip of her drink and then looks once again to Mimi. "Shoot," she offers, giving this some degree of attention despite occasional looks to the dance floor.

Geoff lifts an eyebrow slightly as Mimi defines him as a 'girl,' but he doesn't verbally object. Instead he laughs, calming himself with a drink of diluted vodka. "Not sure I'm qualified to give advice on anybody's love life…" He shrugs at Tamara. "Drag queens still make jokes about them," he says. "But we still make jokes about Cher, too, and nobody cares about her…" So that test is inconclusive. He frowns at the information about the smoking policy. "This city is so pussy." But back to the task at hand: he glances at Mimi. "What's your problem, now?"

Mimi doesn't seem offended by the use of the pussy-word in her presence. She seems, well, mostly focused on herself. "Firstly, I'm a bit of an ethical slut. I don't ever date guys. I just sleep with them and when I get bored with them, I let them know. But there's this guy who… Well, I guess that needs some explanation. I'm only attracted to men who are of lower class status than I am. This guy… he's like, I don't know. He's nerdy and weird. But I like him. But he won't stop being all clingy. I think his mom held his weewee until he was 12 when he peed, you know? I don't know what to do. He's nice and I'm afraid I'm going to hurt him. Should I just leave him alone forever? I mean, I did knock someone the fuck out sort of in his honor…" Mimi does seem awfully conflicted about all of this, in her typically blonde manner. She points to the bartender and then her drink, signifying that he needs to fill it up.

Tamara arches an eyebrow as she listens to Mimi's tale of woe. "That's … a lot of thinking," she replies slowly, trying to follow the debate going on in the explanation. "My advice to most things is to do what you want to do. But if you really don't want to hurt him, you need to figure that out sooner than later. Then again, in my experience, someone always gets hurt. Whatever the intentions. So I go back to my original point - figure out what you want and do it. If you're beating people up for him…" She pauses to consider the weirdness of that statement, but then shrugs and continues. "…then it sounds to me like you're already in it."

"Whether he gets hurt is his problem," Geoff opines. "I mean, don't lie, but…you don't have to put yourself out if you're not that into the cling." He finishes off his drink and then gnaws on the corner of his thumbnail.

There's a pause from the young blonde woman before she nods her head at them and stares back down at her phone. "Okay. Thanks." She says, reaching into her pocket for a fifty. She slams it down and points to Tamara and Geoff. "Whatever these two want and whatever they're already had, up until they spend this." For someone as rich as she is, she's not spending big. But she probably needs fare or something. "Thanks, you two! I'll see you later! I just remembered that I have to go do and something!" His name might or might not be Foster.

Tamara considers the fifty with a pleased expression and then tips her glass towards the bartender, indicating another of the same. "Sure thing," she replies easily to Mimi. "I guess some people really do just need to be told it's okay to do what they want to do," she muses, as much to herself as to either of them. "Good luck with the something," she adds in farewell to the younger woman.

"Thanks," Geoff says for the booze, adding, "Don't forget to wrap it up." He leans forward and orders a Manhattan, then looks over at Tamara. "Course they do. Anyway, everybody likes to hear they're doing right."

Mimi makes her way out of the club, even managing not to fall down on her ass in those weird little flat shoes.

"I suppose so. I'm just amazed at how often telling someone 'do what you want' is actually effective advice," Tamara replies, tipping back the last mouthful of her first drink so she can trade off the empty glass for its refill. "It introduces nothing new into the equation, but I suppose it does allow them to blame me if things go wrong. That must be satisfying on some level, I guess," she muses as she watches the younger blonde head off.

"Well, it minuses the morals," Geoff points out. Does he know the word 'subtract?' Surely. But that doesn't mean he has to use it! "As long as someone else says it's okay, you don't have to worry about right and wrong. Right?"

Tamara shrugs her shoulders. "Right and wrong are abstract concepts at the best of times," she points out with another sip of her drink. "So if my permission gives someone the peace of mind to follow their heart or whatever, well, then. I guess I've done my good deed for the day. Go me. Oh, and you too, of course," she adds as an after-thought.

"Duh," Geoff answers, pulling the Manhattan closer when the bartender puts it up on the bar. "Yeah, right. Go me. Also." He smirks. "I'm not really a 'good deed' guy. Because I'm already doing what I feel like."

"Oh, you know me. I'm big on the good deeds," Tamara replies blithely as she watches some people on the dance floor. "As long as they require no effort or compromise, I figure why not. Life has to have balance somehow." She takes a sip of her drink and glances sidelong as him with a faint smirk.

Geoff looks Tamara over thoughtfully. "I don't think you get /that/ kinda car doing good deeds all over town. You know I saw some trashy-ass motherfucker the other day get into a Ferrari? Some days it doesn't pay to get out of bed." The complaints don't necessarily line up properly, but Geoff's probably been drinking for a while.

"Well, that would be the balance," Tamara points out with some wry amusement. "Good deeds offset the, uh, more colourful ones." She arches an eyebrow to see if he'll buy that. "At least I don't have a horrible case of car envy. Public transit not cutting it?" she jibes lightly as she takes another sip of her drink.

"Obviously you don't have car envy," Geoff says. "You /have/ a nice car. You know what I used to drive before I came to this city? Trans-Am. Loved that car. The subway can be a bitch. There's some neighborhoods you don't exactly want to be loitering in a tagged-up, dank, deserted underground chamber at two in the morning holding a pair of high heels, you know what I mean?"

"On a theoretical level, I can imagine," Tamara replies, not really knowing what he means, and of course, having to make a point of pointing out she's never been in that situation. "And you know Barbie needs her Dream Car. I love that thing." She takes a moment to appreciate her fine vehicle. "Clearly you just need to get yourself another car. Something fun and sporty. Unisex."

Geoff narrows his eyes a little. "Huh," he says, looking Tamara over. "So you were /born/ rich, hm?" He smiles. "Yeah, see, the funny thing is that a drag queen's salary? Not that great. Oh, but if you run into a good sugar daddy that plays for the wrong team, you go ahead and point him my way." It's hard to tell if he's being serious or trying to mock Tamara.

"I was born. And I've never had to wait for a subway in the bad part of town at two in the morning carrying a pair of heels. The rest is pure speculation," Tamara replies, refusing to give a straight answer there. "Finding them is the biggest challenge," she concedes, taking no offence if that was an attempt to mock. "If I stumble across one, I'll be sure and keep you in mind. In the meantime, you'll need to save your pennies."

Geoff rolls his eyes. "I don't have time for that shit anyway," he admits. "I don't get up 'til like noon, and I have to get ready for work most nights pretty early." He slugs down the rest of his Manhattan. "As for the pennies…I just had to move out of my place in Chelsea to take some shitty factory loft, so…"

"Life is hard. You might as well drink your troubles away," Tamara replies, in what could be mocking but isn't really. His life is harder than hers, at least, and the only good advice to that is to get drunk enough to forget it. She gestures towards the bartender for another round. "I always liked moving, myself. A clean slate. A chance to start over. Of course moving neighbourhoods is probably less effective."

"Yeah, whatever," Geoff says. "Moving to the Lower East Side isn't exactly a clean slate." He pushes his empty glass toward the bartender. "I ain't starting /shit/ over. Except I broke my mirror on the way, so I guess that's $14.99 and seven years bad luck." He frowns. "I need a cigarette. I'll catch you later."

Tamara frowns slightly, but that might just be due to trying to imagine a mirror that costs only fifteen bucks. "All right. Enjoy your slow death," she bids lightly, taking a refill for herself, at least. Fresh drink in hand, she shifts her attention back to the dance floor, on the prowl for a partner, no doubt.

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