The Mad Troubadour
SyDra
Chapter 3: The Party Gets Wilder
Azalea sank into the depths of despair as she realized she might never find Joren Stone, man of her dreams, in the noisy crowded din. She pushed by countless numbers of people, stepped on numerous feet, and drank quite a few martinis. Jinna and Randy stood by the balcony doors, yawning and trying not to sleep on their feet. Azalea checked her watch; it was half past midnight, and the party was still raging.
Jinna came forward through the people, looking annoyed. "Az, It's way past my bed time! Obviously it's too crowded for you to find the guy, and I can tell no one's left because no safety windows have shattered and no doors have opened, except the bathroom one. And really, only one person's been in the bathroom the whole time. I'm beginning to think it's his detoxification headquarters or something."
Azalea ignored the plea to leave, however subtle it was, and grinned sneakily. "Which one?"
"Which one what?"
"Which one was hogging the bathroom?"
"I heard someone say his name was Vinson Genlith. They say he's a failing actor, has his own drug trafficking problems with the FBI, big boozer. He's been in jail countless times, and I think he was charged a couple years ago for rape of an underage girl."
Azalea's grin disappeared. "What a sicko," she muttered.
"That's one reason I would like to LEAVE the premises," Jinna grumbled
"No kidding. But I have to find Stone. I MUST."
"Really, Az, what's so important about this guy?"
"He's a huge actor, and it's his premiere night, and I want to do a shoot with him..."
"I can tell it's more than that. Remember earlier tonight, or should I say last night, 'cause it's literally morning, when you tried to interview him? And he totally fluffed you off, and you were all sad?"
"Well, yeah..."
"I saw something else there. I think you got a thing for this guy."
Azalea frowned. "Well, THAT would be none of your..."
"Sure it would. We're friends, we grew up together. We're practically sisters-I lived more at your house than mine. Now tell me. Is it an obsession?"
"Fine, yeah, whatever. I'll talk to you later. I still have to find the subject of our conversation, if you know what I mean."
"Sure. Pick me up a Painkiller, would you?"
"If they're mixing any." Azalea disappeared into the throng.
*~*
Azalea felt a hard pinch at her butt. She whipped around, and found herself glaring at two teens, and then her anger turned to shock. "Excuse me? Aren't you two a little young for a party like this?" She decided not to mention their pinching her ass until a little later.
They grinned impishly, the girl of the two blowing a piece of frizzy red hair out of her face. The black-haired boy winked roguishly. "Our teachers are here. They brought us along."
"And what did your parents say about it?"
"We don't have parents," answered the boy, still grinning.
"Or at least, we don't any more," The girl corrected.
"Here's another question-what possessed you to pinch my butt?"
They giggled, shooting each other mischievous looks.
"Well?"
The girl nudged her friend.
"Because you're hot!"
Azalea coughed so hard with derisive laughter that she nearly choked on her martini. "I should feel honored, but you're like twelve!"
The boy frowned. "I'm fourteen!"
"Well, now I'll ask both of you a question-who the hell are you?"
The girl straightened herself. "Trisana Chandler. I was Mia Thermopolis in 'The Princess Diaries'. Of course, my hair was dyed, though."
"Another actress. Have you been in anything else?"
"Nope. That was my big debut."
"Okay, boy, so what about you?"
"Briar Moss. I play Simon Camden on 7th Heaven-you know, the WB TV show."
"Oh, the show with the horrible, cheesy theme song. Well. I noticed, everyone's in the acting business here that I've met. Is there anyone who isn't?" Azalea was mildly curious, after all. "I mean, besides me?"
"You mean, you're not an actress? Or on TV? You look familiar," said Trisana, scratching her head puzzledly.
"Probably not familiar. I'm a fashion model." Azalea was a bit uneasy. She hoped Tris-what's-her-name didn't watch her on the news.
"I see. As for the answer to your question...yes, there are people with other professions. There's Gary Naxen Jr. He's a Boston Globe columnist, he writes humor. I've read some of his stuff, like the one about the cell phones on the beach...that one was hilarious, especially when he started talking about the surgeon...anyway. There's Josaine Copper. She's a pop singer, a complete bitch, if you ask me. I think she's way too much like Christina Aguilera. Personally, I hate her music, but Joren Stone seems to be okay with her stuff. And then there's Alanna Olau-Trebond's adoptive father; he works for the CIA. He used to teach history at Joren's old elementary school. And that's it."
"Okay. Well, I have to, uh...talk to some more old friends, so..." Azalea trailed off making her escape, and she heard from Briar as she was heading the other direction, "I'll see you around, I guess," and then a great 'Oomph!' as he got an elbow in the ribs. She chuckled, and then, not noticing where she was going, completely smashed into a handsome, tall young man with a huge, wide grin on his face. "Ouch, I'm sorry," Azalea excused herself embarrassedly, rubbing her elbow where it had connected with the man's chest.
"Oh, quite alright, really," he answered jovially, holding out his hand to be shook. "My name's Domitan Masbolle. Pleased to meet you. And you are?"
"Azalea Lorenzo, fashion model," she said with a dashing smile, fluffing her blonde hair a bit. But Domitan frowned.
"Azalea, Azalea...Lorenzo..." He trailed off, thinking aloud, and then looked abruptly back at her accusingly. "You're not a model! You're-you're a reporter from WSKG! I thought you looked familiar! So-were you even invited, or did you worm your way in here?"
Azalea shrank under his glare. "I-I..."
"You'll have some explaining to do before Joren Stone. He's not going to be happy about this..."
Azalea begged. "Please, no, anything but that," although she did want to see Joren. Just not under the current circumstances... "I'll do anything for you! Anything!" She subtly hiked up her micro-mini skirt. "Anything..." she purred. Domitan grinned, completely won.
"So, where to?"
*~*
Azalea climbed out of the utility closet two hours later, only to find herself extremely disheveled, and still the room was full to the brim. She found her own way to the bathroom, knocking politely on the closed door. All she could hear was the distinct sound of vomiting. She knocked again, hoping for a verbal 'I'm almost done', but none came. Finally, a man staggered out, dark circles under his eyes and his tie hanging undone around his neck. *So THIS is the dirty bastard Vinson Genlith,* she thought angrily as she locked the door behind her. She set her purse on the counter, rummaging around, and pulling out her purple lipstick, her mascara, and her brush. Thank god Domitan hadn't insisted on frenching her, although much of her lipstick was completely gone. A blob of gel-like stuff hung from the corner of her mouth, and she wiped it off with a tissue.
In five minutes, she was done, and set back out on her mission for Joren Stone. But, all at once, as she went by the entrance to the unit, a loud, booming knock came from the other side. She unwittingly opened the door, only to find a grisly, fat old man bearing a rifle and a horrible grimace of fury. At the first light from the hallway hitting the room, someone turned off the music. At this point, Azalea moved quickly aside, fearing the rifle would be loaded, and was nearly blown off her feet by the volume of the geezer's voice.
"DAMN KIDS!" He hollered. Faces of shocked partygoers stared back, jaws agape. He hoisted up his rifle, firing two warning shots into the ceiling. A woman screamed. Everyone else was too shocked to move. "MAKING THEM DAMNED BIG NIOSES IN THEM UNGODLY HOURS OF THE MORNIN'! I'M TRYIN TO HAVE A LITTLE QUALITY TIME WITH MY BITCH, AND YOU'RE MAKING THEM DAMNED BIG NOISES! DAMN KIDS! WHY DONCHA ALL JUST SHUT UP!"
Azalea's big moment came. Hidden in the shadow of the door, she saw Joren Stone himself pushing his way through the crowd. He whipped out a .22. "Shut your own mouth, mother fucker!" He had his gun aimed straight at the geezer's chest. The geezer looked fearfully from his rifle to the .22 and ran. Azalea was so faint from finally seeing the man of her dreams that she swooned-right into Joren's arms.
TO BE CONTINUED...TRUST ME ON THIS
SyDra
Chapter 3: The Party Gets Wilder
Azalea sank into the depths of despair as she realized she might never find Joren Stone, man of her dreams, in the noisy crowded din. She pushed by countless numbers of people, stepped on numerous feet, and drank quite a few martinis. Jinna and Randy stood by the balcony doors, yawning and trying not to sleep on their feet. Azalea checked her watch; it was half past midnight, and the party was still raging.
Jinna came forward through the people, looking annoyed. "Az, It's way past my bed time! Obviously it's too crowded for you to find the guy, and I can tell no one's left because no safety windows have shattered and no doors have opened, except the bathroom one. And really, only one person's been in the bathroom the whole time. I'm beginning to think it's his detoxification headquarters or something."
Azalea ignored the plea to leave, however subtle it was, and grinned sneakily. "Which one?"
"Which one what?"
"Which one was hogging the bathroom?"
"I heard someone say his name was Vinson Genlith. They say he's a failing actor, has his own drug trafficking problems with the FBI, big boozer. He's been in jail countless times, and I think he was charged a couple years ago for rape of an underage girl."
Azalea's grin disappeared. "What a sicko," she muttered.
"That's one reason I would like to LEAVE the premises," Jinna grumbled
"No kidding. But I have to find Stone. I MUST."
"Really, Az, what's so important about this guy?"
"He's a huge actor, and it's his premiere night, and I want to do a shoot with him..."
"I can tell it's more than that. Remember earlier tonight, or should I say last night, 'cause it's literally morning, when you tried to interview him? And he totally fluffed you off, and you were all sad?"
"Well, yeah..."
"I saw something else there. I think you got a thing for this guy."
Azalea frowned. "Well, THAT would be none of your..."
"Sure it would. We're friends, we grew up together. We're practically sisters-I lived more at your house than mine. Now tell me. Is it an obsession?"
"Fine, yeah, whatever. I'll talk to you later. I still have to find the subject of our conversation, if you know what I mean."
"Sure. Pick me up a Painkiller, would you?"
"If they're mixing any." Azalea disappeared into the throng.
*~*
Azalea felt a hard pinch at her butt. She whipped around, and found herself glaring at two teens, and then her anger turned to shock. "Excuse me? Aren't you two a little young for a party like this?" She decided not to mention their pinching her ass until a little later.
They grinned impishly, the girl of the two blowing a piece of frizzy red hair out of her face. The black-haired boy winked roguishly. "Our teachers are here. They brought us along."
"And what did your parents say about it?"
"We don't have parents," answered the boy, still grinning.
"Or at least, we don't any more," The girl corrected.
"Here's another question-what possessed you to pinch my butt?"
They giggled, shooting each other mischievous looks.
"Well?"
The girl nudged her friend.
"Because you're hot!"
Azalea coughed so hard with derisive laughter that she nearly choked on her martini. "I should feel honored, but you're like twelve!"
The boy frowned. "I'm fourteen!"
"Well, now I'll ask both of you a question-who the hell are you?"
The girl straightened herself. "Trisana Chandler. I was Mia Thermopolis in 'The Princess Diaries'. Of course, my hair was dyed, though."
"Another actress. Have you been in anything else?"
"Nope. That was my big debut."
"Okay, boy, so what about you?"
"Briar Moss. I play Simon Camden on 7th Heaven-you know, the WB TV show."
"Oh, the show with the horrible, cheesy theme song. Well. I noticed, everyone's in the acting business here that I've met. Is there anyone who isn't?" Azalea was mildly curious, after all. "I mean, besides me?"
"You mean, you're not an actress? Or on TV? You look familiar," said Trisana, scratching her head puzzledly.
"Probably not familiar. I'm a fashion model." Azalea was a bit uneasy. She hoped Tris-what's-her-name didn't watch her on the news.
"I see. As for the answer to your question...yes, there are people with other professions. There's Gary Naxen Jr. He's a Boston Globe columnist, he writes humor. I've read some of his stuff, like the one about the cell phones on the beach...that one was hilarious, especially when he started talking about the surgeon...anyway. There's Josaine Copper. She's a pop singer, a complete bitch, if you ask me. I think she's way too much like Christina Aguilera. Personally, I hate her music, but Joren Stone seems to be okay with her stuff. And then there's Alanna Olau-Trebond's adoptive father; he works for the CIA. He used to teach history at Joren's old elementary school. And that's it."
"Okay. Well, I have to, uh...talk to some more old friends, so..." Azalea trailed off making her escape, and she heard from Briar as she was heading the other direction, "I'll see you around, I guess," and then a great 'Oomph!' as he got an elbow in the ribs. She chuckled, and then, not noticing where she was going, completely smashed into a handsome, tall young man with a huge, wide grin on his face. "Ouch, I'm sorry," Azalea excused herself embarrassedly, rubbing her elbow where it had connected with the man's chest.
"Oh, quite alright, really," he answered jovially, holding out his hand to be shook. "My name's Domitan Masbolle. Pleased to meet you. And you are?"
"Azalea Lorenzo, fashion model," she said with a dashing smile, fluffing her blonde hair a bit. But Domitan frowned.
"Azalea, Azalea...Lorenzo..." He trailed off, thinking aloud, and then looked abruptly back at her accusingly. "You're not a model! You're-you're a reporter from WSKG! I thought you looked familiar! So-were you even invited, or did you worm your way in here?"
Azalea shrank under his glare. "I-I..."
"You'll have some explaining to do before Joren Stone. He's not going to be happy about this..."
Azalea begged. "Please, no, anything but that," although she did want to see Joren. Just not under the current circumstances... "I'll do anything for you! Anything!" She subtly hiked up her micro-mini skirt. "Anything..." she purred. Domitan grinned, completely won.
"So, where to?"
*~*
Azalea climbed out of the utility closet two hours later, only to find herself extremely disheveled, and still the room was full to the brim. She found her own way to the bathroom, knocking politely on the closed door. All she could hear was the distinct sound of vomiting. She knocked again, hoping for a verbal 'I'm almost done', but none came. Finally, a man staggered out, dark circles under his eyes and his tie hanging undone around his neck. *So THIS is the dirty bastard Vinson Genlith,* she thought angrily as she locked the door behind her. She set her purse on the counter, rummaging around, and pulling out her purple lipstick, her mascara, and her brush. Thank god Domitan hadn't insisted on frenching her, although much of her lipstick was completely gone. A blob of gel-like stuff hung from the corner of her mouth, and she wiped it off with a tissue.
In five minutes, she was done, and set back out on her mission for Joren Stone. But, all at once, as she went by the entrance to the unit, a loud, booming knock came from the other side. She unwittingly opened the door, only to find a grisly, fat old man bearing a rifle and a horrible grimace of fury. At the first light from the hallway hitting the room, someone turned off the music. At this point, Azalea moved quickly aside, fearing the rifle would be loaded, and was nearly blown off her feet by the volume of the geezer's voice.
"DAMN KIDS!" He hollered. Faces of shocked partygoers stared back, jaws agape. He hoisted up his rifle, firing two warning shots into the ceiling. A woman screamed. Everyone else was too shocked to move. "MAKING THEM DAMNED BIG NIOSES IN THEM UNGODLY HOURS OF THE MORNIN'! I'M TRYIN TO HAVE A LITTLE QUALITY TIME WITH MY BITCH, AND YOU'RE MAKING THEM DAMNED BIG NOISES! DAMN KIDS! WHY DONCHA ALL JUST SHUT UP!"
Azalea's big moment came. Hidden in the shadow of the door, she saw Joren Stone himself pushing his way through the crowd. He whipped out a .22. "Shut your own mouth, mother fucker!" He had his gun aimed straight at the geezer's chest. The geezer looked fearfully from his rifle to the .22 and ran. Azalea was so faint from finally seeing the man of her dreams that she swooned-right into Joren's arms.
TO BE CONTINUED...TRUST ME ON THIS