January 23rd, 1958
Emmy gazed discreetly across the table at her blonde companion, slowly lifting the icy spoon to her lips and letting the sweet chocolate ice cream slide over her tongue.
Since Emmy's meeting with Augustus on the 18th she had been busy, busy, busy…
Rehearsals at Eve's Garden, meetings with photographers, shopping for an entire new wardrobe, taking up tennis as a work out to maintain her weight, singing lessons, dance lessons, photo shoots, tea with Diane, nights at the Kashmir, and performances at the limbo were only some of the activities the young brunette had to endure.
It'd been an extremely long 5 days and Emmy was entirely and utterly exhausted.
But, always the people pleaser, Emmy kept her promise to Diane of having ice cream and cola in Arcadia.
Although, some parts of Arcadia were closed due to… well, certain 'maintenance' issues.
So, the two young women had gotten their ice cream and Hop Up and paid for a table among the flowers and plants. It was supposed to be a pleasant day-date, until Emmy informed Diane of her plans for her birthday.
Diane had wanted to take Emmy out to every club in Rapture—decent club that is—and have an absolute ball.
Emmy would love to do that, she truly would. But after meeting the girls at Eve's Garden and working with Mr. Sinclair more… well, Emmy began to like this idea of performing a saucy little number at Eve's Garden more and more.
What's the harm anyway? It'd only be two songs… maybe three or so if there was an encore…
Speaking of which, Diane was especially irked upon hearing Emmy's songs for that night.
Emmy guessed that Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend and My Heart Belongs to Daddy weren't exactly subtle. But they were fun songs…
Besides… Emmy was guiltily and very secretly excited for some real male attention. At least from someone besides a man who already had too many women on his arm to deal with… Namely Andrew Ryan.
He wasn't Emmy's type anyhow. And as for Mr. Sinclair, Emmy didn't like to dip her pen in company ink.
"Diane… Why don't we go out the night befo-… Oh wait…" Emmy winced as Diane narrowed her eyes, stirring her melting ice cream around her glass bowl as the brunette sighed apologetically. "I have dress rehearsal that day…"
"Emmy, listen." Diane mumbled, setting her spoon down with a light clatter. "It's not that I don't want you to get success. I just don't want you to let Mr. Sinclair turn you into some… airhead starlet."
Emmy looked down at her well fitting white dress with black polka dots scattering it, then down at the new shiny black pumps Augustus had bought her not too long ago.
Yes, perhaps she was more glamorous then before… her hair less child-like and more womanly, her makeup more maturely and beautifully done, and her clothing… tighter.
But Emmy made sure she wasn't selling out. She knew she wasn't.
Was it such a crime to wear flattering clothes and act like a grown woman? She was turning 20 for Christ's sake!
She cared for Diane, she truly did, but it felt as though she had a case of the sour grapes… Not that she was jealous of Emmy, but perhaps angry that her closest companions were surrounding themselves with Jasmine Jolene.
Emmy hadn't intentionally done so… Jasmine was simply an interesting woman… she was wild and care free and so tremendously beautiful.
Jasmine had also taught Emmy a thing or two about charming the male race…
But that was neither here nor there. What mattered at the moment was trying to cheer Diane up. The only question was exactly how to do that.
"I'm not Diane trust me. I've just decided, now that I'm turning twenty, I need to stop dressing and acting like a child. I want to be taken seriously." Emmy explained as she let another chunk of chocolate ice cream melt down her throat, pointing her spoon at Diane as she spoke. "Jasmine isn't so bad you know… Despite trying to take Mr. Ryan…"
Diane looked outraged in such a dramatic way it could only be hers, pressing her lips in a thin line as she tapped her fingernails irritably against the table. "Jasmine is not good if that's what you're implying. She's just some cheap streetwalker trying to earn an extra buck off my fiancé."
Emmy was about to call Diane on her insult when the word fiancé caught her attention. The girl looked from Diane's heated eyes down at her ring finger, eyeing its bareness silently. "Congratulations Diane, I had no idea…"
Diane looked up from her aimless glaring at her bowl and stared at her brunette friend, following her amber gaze to her ring finger before sighing dejectedly.
"I'm not really engaged to Andrew… Although I'm his public… girl, I doubt he's gonna settle down anytime soon." The blonde grumbled, glaring at her ring finger. "I figured fiancé sounds more dignified then mistress."
"Mistress sounds more exotic." Emmy smiled with a playful poke at Diane's bicep.
Diane laughed softly as she shook her head, heaving a sigh as she looked up at Emmy.
"Oh I'm sorry Emmy… I'm just so used to your company that when you aren't around I get a little… fussy I guess." Diane shook her head, closing her eyes as she rubbed her temples. "I'm really happy for you, I truly am. Of course, I knew Mr. Sinclair would like you."
"What made you think that?" Emmy chuckled, her words muffled slightly by the ice cream on her tongue.
"You just seem to be his type… Speaking of which…" Diane smirked, looking around the two of them briefly before leaning forward. "All your new posters around Rapture say 'Sinclair's Gal'. Are you two…?"
"No, no…" Emmy laughed, holding a hand to her mouth as she swallowed the chocolate. "He's a charming man but, no… I don't currently have my sights set on anyone."
"What about Mr. Faber?" Diane winked, snaking her tongue out with a saucy grin and capturing her straw in between her lips.
"Mm, what about him?" Emmy hummed thoughtfully, remembering those strange eyes and that oh-so-serious physique. He was attractive, yes. In that superiority sort of way. Otherwise he seemed kind of normal...
"Oh I don't know… I bet you could sing your way into his cold, business man heart." Diane snorted, causing Emmy to laugh a little too obnoxiously for the couple a few tables to their left.
"Yes, but… he seemed boring didn't he?"
Diane clicked her tongue disapprovingly, causing Emmy to smile as she sipped at her Hop Up. "So picky… All these rich men are interested in you and all you care about is someone exotic."
"Money doesn't matter to me." Emmy sighed as she stirred the melted remains of her ice cream around the crystal bowl. "I want someone who loves me and my voice."
"Well, I suppose I see why you don't return Mr. Ryan's affections then." Diane chuckled bitterly, glaring at her soda bottle. "Andrew is one of the most unromantic men I've ever met… I like him for his intensity and his… power… but what I wouldn't give for some caring nature…"
Emmy made a face at Diane's troubles, wanting to shake some sense into the girl.
She wished she could tell Diane of Mr. Ryan's true nature… but what would happen if Diane took it the wrong way? She'd go straight to Mr. Ryan, without intention of really harming Emmy, but it'd most likely get the brunette thrown in Persephone. A place she truly did not want to go to.
Emmy happened to look at the large clock post in the middle of the Tea Gardens, mentally cursing herself for lack of eternal clock.
"Diane, I'm really sorry, but I have to go for a fitting with Mr. Sinclair." Emmy sighed, quickly standing and straightening her dress out neatly. "But listen, my next birthday, I promise, I'm all yours. 1959 will be our year of relaxation, alright?"
"Oh, well, alright." Diane looked up in question, looking slightly flustered at Emmy's sudden departure. "1959 it is."
Crystal blue eyes studied the brunette beside her, scanning over her big red lips, her dark, defined brows, and her perfectly waved brown locks.
She finally looked like the singer she always wanted to be, her amber eyes studying her body in the mirror as Maria, the girls' assistant at Eve's the Garden, laced up the corset that held Emmy together.
Jasmine was happy for the girl; she was real cute and bubbly. A nice change from the catty bitches around here…
But she was so obviously nervous for her performance that Jasmine wondered whether or not she'd be able to pull through…
Jasmine dipped her finger in the melted chocolate fondue in the bowl on her vanity, tapping her heeled foot and keeping her eyes on Emmy as she sucked the chocolate off her finger absently.
Of course, Jasmine wasn't gonna deny that this girl was trying to become the star of Rapture.
That was her job… Jasmine was supposed to be the star.
But Jasmine knew that being a stripper at some fancy club wasn't gonna help her get famous… it only hindered her chances.
She'd already been turned down on many occasions by that pompous Sander Cohen… Just cause she took her clothes off and swung on a damn pole.
"There ya go honey. All fitted." Maria smiled at the girl through the reflection of the mirror, patting her arm as Emmy beamed.
"Oh it's marvelous Maria!" Jasmine smirked at Emmy's excitement, swirling another glob of chocolate onto her finger and licking it off.
Emmy turned around a few times, looking the ensemble over in every angle possible. It looked as if she didn't miss checking out a single inch of skin, a wide grin spread over that bright face.
Then she turned to Jasmine, a curious look on her face as she posed for the blonde. "Is it too much?"
Jasmine observed the silver and white dress, absolutely glittering and sparking with the sequins and jewels that covered the entire corset and skirt. The top was fringed with little dangling diamonds—real or not, Jasmine wasn't sure. And lord, it was cutting it short… It went just down mid-way to the girl's thigh, where criss-crossed tights covered her lean legs. And her shoes, perhaps just as beautiful as the dress, were also sparkling like no tomorrow.
"Yes." Jasmine grinned, biting onto her knuckle gleefully.
"Fantastic." Emmy beamed at her companion, giving a little clap of excitement as she observed herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time. "What do you think Augustus?"
Jasmine glanced over to the corner of the dressing room where Mr. Sinclair sat, a smug look about himself as he observed his girl in the stunning outfit.
"Well honey, I think you're certainly livin' up to this diamond in the rough phrase…" The man chuckled as he observed the sequins, causing Emmy to laugh softly. "You look real good Emmy. Truly."
Jasmine figured that Mr. Sinclair and Emmy's relationship was… flirtatious, but only just. They didn't seem the type to strike up a fling.
Emmy was too sweet and Mr. Sinclair too caught up in his business.
But they seemed close, which sometimes made Jasmine wonder…
"Now that you have that ensemble on, we have to go document it sugar." Mr. Sinclair announced as he stood, patting the wrinkles from his clothes as he walked over to Emmy. He stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders, looking at her reflection through the vanity. "We need to go meet with Paparazzi, he's agreed to take your new poster photo for a pretty price. Meet me up stairs when you're ready."
Emmy nodded and gave Mr. Sinclair a quick kiss on the cheek and an affectionate pat on his arm before he left the room.
Jasmine watched the girl as she did a quick observing of her hair and makeup, giving her curls a little adjusting as she hummed absently to herself.
"Hey, Emmy?"
Emmy looked over upon Jasmine's address, a permanent smile on her red lips. "Hm?"
"After your shoot, would you want to go shopping with me?" Jasmine asked with a small smile, absent mindedly swirling the chocolate around and around. "I'd go with one of the girls but, they're all bitches."
Emmy snorted as she looked around the dressing room, as if checking to see if any of the Eve's Garden dancers were around to hear that blunt little insult.
Figuring it was safe, Emmy then glanced over at the blonde with an amused look. "Yes, I'd love to. But you have to be careful with what you say around here Jasmine; you never know who might be listening."
"Don't I know it…" Jasmine sighed with a smirk, leaning her head back against her chair and studying her reflection in her own vanity. "But hey, they all know that if I had my way, I'd be performing for Sander Cohen in his theater. Not in some high end strip joint."
Emmy glanced at Jasmine from the corner of her eye, secretly wondering if Mr. Cohen had treated Jasmine the same way he had treated her.
It seemed so, judging by the facial expression the blonde took on when speaking of him.
"You could." Emmy smiled at the beautiful woman lounging in the chair to her right, causing her to look over thoughtfully at the brunette. "I'll see you after the shoot. In front of Eve's Garden?"
Jasmine nodded, smiling reassuringly at Emmy before she scurried off after Mr. Sinclair.
Leon stared at the poster in front of him, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his eyes narrowed.
The poster read in big, stylistic letters:
Sinclair's Favorite Gal Says, "I always prefer Sinclair's Spirits over any other!" Come down to Sinclair Spirits today!
But what caught Leon's eye was the amber eyed pin up grinning brightly back at him; clad in tight sailor shorts and a blue button up shirt tied up high on her ribs.
It was that girl, Amelia Rousseau.
But, she looked different… more glammed up or somethin'. Definitely more appealing to a wider audience he supposed.
Before she looked younger then her age, with her old fashioned clothing and innocent hair styles.
Seems old Sinclair buffed out the rough on her…
These posters for Augustus Sinclair's products were all over Rapture. Even in Pauper's Drop. This particular poster was the more famous of the bunch, considering she was bending over in a saucy little pose, but the whole sex pot visage was played off nicely by the happy grin on her bright face.
Leon wasn't the only one staring, bystanders stopped to either shake their head at something so bold—usually conservative housewives or bitter old women—or appreciate it—most of the male population of Rapture.
It was Leon's break and he'd decided to eat somewhere else besides the fishery. Circus Value food just wasn't cutting it these days—not that it ever had…
But all he saw lately were posters of that Amelia girl. She was in the paper too. An article about her performances in the Kashmir, a review he supposed.
He'd read it, only out of curiosity. It talked about a bunch of technical things about her voice, mostly good but some slightly criticizing. But that was for the arties around Rapture, the next was by some reporter who'd done an interview with her.
It was a simple profile on her, no front page crap. But it was something.
He supposed she'd gotten over her rejection with Cohen real fast. And she'd been picked up by the next best thing when wanting to make it big in Rapture—Augustus Sinclair.
A sly bastard, but a smart one.
Leon figured that the girl caught Sinclair's eye in one way or another, and that simply made him curious.
Although, Leon supposed he'd see the relationship of the two on the 26th.
Jerry, somehow, nabbed a reservation for Leon to go to Eve's Garden on the night of Amelia's debut performance.
It was sold out within a day and a half, so as to how Jerry—a spliced up, smelly idiot—got a reservation, it was beyond him. But he was amused that he'd even thought to get him a spot to view the event.
He supposed Jerry had done it as a joke, considering Leon had been interested in this girl even before she became all model-like.
Of course, she'd been here for only so long and she'd already been snatched up and made into an upcoming star. Figures, especially in a place like this.
Pretty people usually get what they want. Take Jasmine Jolene for example. She wanted fame and a rich guy to pay for everything that went with it. That's what she got.
At least, fame among the men of Rapture. She was pretty infamous among the women. Georgia hated Jasmine Jolene, especially in knowing that Leon had the hots for her.
"Hey, you hear she's performin' at Eve's?"
Leon inclined his head over his shoulder slightly, eyeing the two men who had also stopped to look at the poster.
"Yeah, I couldn't get a seat, all filled up with rich pricks. Are you goin'?" The other replied, scratching the back of his head as he leaned against the wall opposite the poster, eyeing it with an appreciative smirk.
"Nah. I figure I'll watch it on the TV. You think they'll broadcast it?"
"Heh, I doubt it. Ryan'll probably keep it private, you know? He never broadcasted Jolene's shit."
"I heard that Rousseau chickie is Sinclair's piece now. You know, the Desi Arnaz look alike."
Leon took one last look at the poster, studying that signature smile before pulling his jacket around him tighter and walking off towards Finley's Eat In Take Out.
Brigid Tenenbaum stared down at the limp body on the table in front of her, the continuous beep that rang through the room a sign that her failure was a reality, not just of the imagination.
The woman's eyes studied the small hands laying limp on the table, the childish nose, the thin brown hair, and the closed eyes.
It wasn't the first time that a little girl had died on this table, but it was the first time that it had shocked Tenenbaum to her core.
"Dr. Tenenbaum?"
The woman turned on the sound of the voice beside her, holding her blood covered gloves at her sides as the nurse eyed the girl on the table warily.
"What is wrong with this girl? I told Fontaine to only supply healthy young girls…" Tenenbaum snapped, trying to hide the shaken feeling in her body as the blood of a small girl smeared over her lab coat.
"She is-… Was, perfectly healthy, Doctor. It wasn't you or her that caused her expiration, it was the slug."
Tenenbaum looked sharply at her assistant before looking down at the slug that inched its way out of the young girl's open stomach.
Of course, when they'd found this ADAM slug she had thought it looked different. And she had asked Suchong to have a look at it before his death.
After his 'careful observation' Suchong had informed her that it was simply a discoloring in reproduction; it was perfectly fine to implant into a girl. But upon putting the slug into the little girl's stomach her heart beat gave multiple spasms for minute or so before they ultimately lost her completely.
"Dr. Suchong told you this slug was fit for the process, yes? So why did it kill this little girl?" Tenenbaum sighed, staring questioningly at her assistant. She hated having to lose a life in the process of discovering. It was a sign of her miscalculation—which it truly was, especially in letting that fool Suchong observe the slug…
Tenenbaum was simply too busy dealing with Fontaine and the whole gatherer situation to deal with something that could turn out to be nothing.
"Yes Doctor, but it seems Dr. Suchong didn't exactly run compatibility tests with the slug and the little girls…"
Brigid clenched her fists in frustration as a pair of orderlies took the dead body away from the table. "Has nobody checked this?"
"Actually Dr. Tenenbaum, I have. But I've only just finished the results, or else I would have informed you before surgery." The woman's assistant replied, his eyes watching the little girl being taken away with a wince. "Shall I tell-,"
"Yes, yes, tell me." Brigid snapped, walking over to the sink provided and throwing her gloves in the biohazard can before washing up.
"Well, that slug is indeed a carrier of ADAM, but it's far too advanced for the bodies of little girls. It fact, it's only compatible with one blood type, age, and gender—similar to the standard ADAM carrier but it requires a far more complex host environment. It seems that the slug is a newer specimen, or perhaps more advanced. Either way, it's different then the others."
Tenenbaum forgot her irritation and instantly felt curiosity, looking over at the slug that was now being confined in its previous glass jar.
"Go on."
The man smiled, as if very proud of himself for doing research, and followed Tenenbaum as she walked over to the jar containing the slug.
"It's only compatible with the blood type B-, with the age group 18 to 25—roughly, and female, always female it seems."
Tenenbaum narrowed her eyes at such typical results. Of course this slug, which holds more ADAM then most, requires a host that is extremely rare. Especially in a city under the ocean with no means of going to the surface for more candidates.
"I suggest that we simply release the slug back into the ocean, seeing as it is very unlikely that we will find a compatible host..." The assistant sighed, obviously regretting the wastefulness of such a task.
"No… I'll keep it in my care. I'd like to study it more." Brigid shook her head dismissively, picking the jar holding the creature up and turning to her assistant. "In the mean time I want you to send those requirements to Dr. Steinman and the hospital staff of Rapture. Do not tell them what it is for; just tell them that Dr. Tenenbaum has specifically asked to search for a body within those requirements. Understood?"
The assistant looked skeptically at his superior, wondering whether or not this was a lost cause. Either way he knew he couldn't exactly disobey Tenenbaum.
So he simply nodded, signaling to the woman before him that she could retreat to her office in peace.
Double post for Christmas!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!