Charlotte Packham

“and i’m surprised that people think of you as a friend with that humor of yours” she smiled brightly as she looked at the other woman, a teasing smile came over her lips. “a couple of parts for the car i was working on, cost some big bucks. looks like they tried to get into the safe but couldn’t..clearly..”

“Not many people do, that’s probably why i spend every evening crying into my pillow.” The brunette replied in a cool voice, not a single thread of concern in her voice about what Dylan had just said to her. “So what, they stole a couple of mufflers? Sounds like a massive waste of time. I don’t understand people and cars. As long as it’s shiny and black it’s good with me.”

“the nerve of some people. i had shit taken from the shop…nothing crazy but still..like come on i’m trying to make a living here..” 

“I can honestly say I’m very surprised someone would snatch something from your shop, everything is covered in so much dirt why the fuck would they want to touch it.” Charlie let out a light laugh, pressing her lips together softly as if smoothing her lipstick. “What did they take?” 

Violet chose not to reply to that. She had enough experience with people not liking her and if that was the reason why, well that she had to do. As Charlotte continued talking, the older woman finally stopped and looked at her. “Yes, I am one of those woman. I don’t really care if it’s not cute, it’s what I like to do. It’s calming and it gives me space which is what I need. This is my life, can you please respect what I want to do with it? I have my own reasons.” Swallowing, her eyes flickered before she was called by yet another drunken tourist who appeared at the counter. “Come on lady! Stop flapping your gums and do what you’re meant to be doing!” A few snickers could be heard from his group but she didn’t say anything, simply handing him the drink that he got last time. “Put it on my tab babe.” As he walked away, Violet shivered a little, clearly not liking the way he had said that last word. She purposefully avoided looking at Charlotte then.

“Oh god, Violet don’t start this again, it’s exhausting.” Charlotte rolled her eyes, never taking the words she said about her personal life very seriously since the woman was convinced she knew better than the woman. She was often convinced she knew better about most things. “Vi, you’re hot, we have to get you out a little bit more.  You can’t still have your book and tea nights, but we’re going to have some club nights too. I know a good one not too far from mine, it’s called Air, you’re coming on friday okay?” As a tourist interrupted the two girls with a loud voice Charlie turned to her in a second, eyes flashing as if she was a pissed off shark. “You talk to her again i’ll knock your fucking teeth out you redneck asshole, sit down and wait your turn.” She spat, at him, turning back to Violet. “Do I need to go at him with my nails?” She asked without a seconds hesitation, frowning.

Clover laughed before grabbing her bag and followed the girl out of the cafe. Trying to catch up with her little legs, tugging at her skirt to make sure her ass wasn’t out for the world to see. “Where are you going?” She furrowed her brow confused if she’d pissed the woman off. “At least wait up for me if you’re wanting me to follow you - I don’t mind a woman in charge.” she smirked and stopped crossing her arms waiting for attention. 

Charlotte didn’t slow down for Clover, the problem with her was she loved a power play and she loved to be the one in control. She didn’t answer the question that was directed at her, simply carrying on with a glance over her shoulder and a conspiratorial smile shot at the pink haired girl, shooting her a wink. Even when she stopped Charlie didn’t, eyes dead ahead of her. “I wouldn’t stop if I was you, you’re just going to have a bigger gap to close.” She warned. 

“Not nice.. Getting under someones skin is it?” she teased playfully before shrugging “And so what if it was all me.. I don’t hear you complaining, or rejecting my offer.” She sat up a little bolder the colour still vivid on her cheeks. “Well.. Do you want to head outta here or.. At least to the bathroom.. Whilst I’m sure it’d be hot - I don’t wanna give anybody a free show..” 

“Nothing gets under my skin, i’m made of teflon.” The tone of teasing she could hear in Clover’s voice wasn’t echoed in Charlotte’s, instead her smile was calculated just like always. It was a wall, and she was excellent at keeping it up. Staying silence she took anouther drink, before standing up without saying a word, picking up her handbag with the assumption that the pink haired girl would follow her. If she didn’t then she would be the one missing out in the end, at least that’s what the fashionista told herself as she didn’t bother to even glance over her shoulder. 

“I really don’t mind. I don’t like getting drunk anyway.” Violet topped up her drink as requested before bringing the drinks to the counter that rested on the wall, where the sink was sat. “Well, I don’t want either so I suppose I’m not everyone.” What a lie that was. More than anything, she wanted that love. She had that love. Yet, she gave it up because things like that only worked out in an ideal world and the world Violet was living in, certainly wasn’t an ideal one. “No, not at all.” She had been married to a vile man who so happened to be ten years her senior, it was understandable that she had an aversion to being with older men. Even grandfatherly types like Bob.

“Maybe you should start liking it more, other people might like you more.” Charlotte muttered into her glass with a smirk on her lips, raising an eyebrow for a split second before flicking her eyes back up to Violet. Watching the woman as she refreshed her drink, drumming her perfect fingernails on the counter as she did so, lips pursed. “Well, I guess that makes you one of the special ones, right? We still need to find you a decent hobby, and no, work doesn’t count. So what is it going to be? If it’s not drinking, it’s not getting back on the dating scene, don’t tell me you’re going to be one of those women who stays in and reads in their free time.” Charlotte pulled a disgusted face, lips turning down as she looked at her friend. “Because sweetie, that’s not cute. Not at your age.”

@charlottepackham​ 

The bar came highly recommended for their cocktails and the live jazz music. Andreas picked it because of the music. He’d always had a soft spot for it, fancied himself as a member of the Rat Pack or some modernized rendition in which he was the only member. And he did it without the hat. Though that was an idea, and if anyone could bring back that classic 1940s look, it was him. That would be a plan for another season. His line for winter was already in the works. 

Today’s outfit was something simple, all in black as always. Fitted black jeans, black shirt, and a fitted matching blazer. Fitted because despite how nice the 90s resurgence was, Andreas needed to look professional and not like a child wearing his father’s clothes. He fixed his hair in the rental car’s rearview mirror before getting out and handing the keys to the valet. He texted Charlotte to let her know where to meet him before pushing open the heavy double doors into the bar. It looked to be part of a hotel, and he appreciated the separate entrance. He leaned against the counter, getting the bartender’s attention easily despite the Tuesday night’s after work crowd. He ordered himself a drink and found somewhere visible to wait for Charlotte and with a good view of the performing band.

Charlotte had gotten dressed up as she so often did, wearing a dress that was clingy, designer, and covered in dynamic silver squares that were designed to look like cubes. It weighed a tonne but she didn’t care, fashion was pain, that’s what she’d always reminded herself back when she was modeling and she still did to this day. Putting on a pair of black stiletto heels she clicked down the stairs to the front of her building to hail a cab, not having to try very hard thanks to a flash of perfect leg. Although the winning smile she’d employed to speed up the car stopping was instantly gone when she slid into the back seat. Instructing the driver where to go without wasting any time they started to speed towards the destination.

Thanks to his reputation Andreas was one of the few people in her social circle the woman actually allowed to pick where they were to spend the evening, not just because his image was important to him as hers was. Neither of them would consider showing themselves up to be an option, so she knew the place they were meeting would be impeccable in all ways. Swanning in through the double doors the brunette gave the room a once over with her sharp eyes before they clapped on the handsome man standing near the bar, just off to the left of the stage. Waving one hand delicately no time was wasted in crossing the room, her walk one that caught more than a couple of glances. You could take the girl off a catwalk but you couldn’t take the catwalk out of the girl. “Sweetie, it’s been too long. Did you order me a drink or have you forgotten your manners?”

“I get a bit more yes.” Violet pursed her lips, moving from behind the counter and grabbing some of the glasses off other tables. “No, of course not. Who would like that?” At the mention of a boyfriend, the older woman froze for a moment. “No, no boyfriends, or girlfriends, or anything. I’m just- I don’t want one.” She kept her eyes off her as she walked back behind the counter, putting the glasses ontop of the bar. “You don’t need to keep me entertained love, seriously. I’m doing quite alright by myself? I don’t need you babysitting me. And uh, he’s in his sixties so I wouldn’t say he’s quite your type.”

“Well, that’s a plus I guess, although it still makes no sense to me that you would stay up half the night to serve people drinks instead of getting them yourself.” She pushed her glass towards her friend, tapping it. “Top up, yeah?” letting out a light laugh that from anyone else might sound charming but from Charlotte sounded like it was cared out of pure ice, she set her shark like eyes back on Violet. “Don’t be silly, everyone wants someone to love them. Or fuck them, whatever way you want to look at it. Either as a romantic or a realist.” “I’m keeping you entertained right now, why else am I hear? Well that and free drinks never hurt. Speaking off.’ She pointed at the glass. “You’re not into older men?”

Violet sighed. “I’m sorry love. I take the hours I can and not many people like closing up, so I do.” Even as she spoke, the guilt seeped into her words. She felt bad, she really did. Yet, she couldn’t throw away this shift. Money seemed to always be tight so she needed to be careful. A fond smile played on her lips as she shook her head. “I don’t need a hobby, I’m perfectly fine. I have a job as you said, I have my dog. I don’t need much else.” She needed dance. She needed to be up on the stage during what she loved and to be able to immerse in it. Unfortunately she couldn’t. That was something she gave up when she ran.

“Do they pay you more to close up? If not then I don’t understand why the hell you do it. Unless of course you like being leered at by old drunk men but I feel like even your self esteem isn’t that low.” The brunette scoffed, waving her hand around a little to try and brush off the guilt she could hear in Violet’s voice. “Don’t start feeling bad, it’s so irritating, it’s happened now so let’s move on. Are you sure you don’t need a hobby? Or a boyfriend. I mean, I have my own life Vi I can’t be keeping you entertained all the time. I have other things going on. What about your boss here, is he cute? Do you have a cute boss, regardless of male or female?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her words. Honesty wasn’t something he heard very often unless it was from a member of his family who viewed him with nothing but disdain. It was refreshing not to have a woman fawning all over him in hope they’d somehow end up Queen one day. “Sorry I didn’t realise you were expecting entertainment or I would have sent my brother instead of dull old me” he laughed before shaking his head. “No that article about my foot fetish wasn’t true so no kissing will be required” he smirked. “And big brother is more than welcome to the throne and all the pomp and expectation that comes with it. Why else do you think I’m out here if not to get away from all that? The only thing I miss from home is the chocolate. So if you read about a chocolate body paint scandal in the press they definitely made that one up, Hershey’s just wouldn’t cut it” he joked.

Charlotte scoffed, shaking her head with a distinctly unimpressed look on her face at his joke, letting her eyes flick over to a car driving past before turning back to him again. “Well, I guess that’s probably not the first time in your life you’ve been both disappointing and pointless so we shouldn’t be surprised. I’m sure you can cope with it.” Raising her eyebrow for a moment before speaking again. “So what is the weirdest fetish you have then if it’s not the foot one. Everyone has something kinky going on in the bedroom, if they keep hitting on the wrong one for you it must be really bad.” Charlie inspected her nails, bringing them up in front of her face before removing a none existent bit of lint from one. “The chocolate? You shouldn’t eat that shit, Hershey’s or not. One day it’ll make you look even worse.”

Clover frowned “What’s wrong with loud?” she asked quickly, “Musical theatre is expression - just like fashion.. You wouldn’t like it if I said fashion was…. Too eccentric? Would you.?” she argued back quickly before watching the girls face and scowling “No fair.. That’s what you wanted..” she crossed her arms and sunk into the chair, still pouting like a child. “You want me to stroke you right now? Here? In public?” she turned slightly pink, but it looked worse because of her hair colour. “God you’re kinky..” 

“Nothing as long as it’s at the right time, and my sister is wearing earplugs.” Charlotte smirked into her coffee, nearly half done with it now, eyes snapping up at the Clover when she said fashion was too eccentric, a delicate frown between her eyebrows. “No, but you’d be wrong anyway since fashion is a staple, musical theater is not. Even couture molds the fashion that trickles down and ends up in the cheapest stores in the city. It’s just a fact.” Her tone was cool, there was no messing about in Charlie’s eyes when it came to the fashion world, none at all. “Careful, you look like a strawberry creamsicle. I never said you had to physically stroke me, that was all you.” 

“I never said that you hadn’t, you like to make assumptions don’t you?” He responded, upping his level of smugness, the self satisfied look on her face feeling like a challenge and he hated to lose. “I never have a choice so that wouldn’t surprise me” he rolled his eyes at her suggestion that he wouldn’t be able to evade her mother. Generally it was his own mother he couldn’t evade. She had eyes and ears everywhere and no one ever refused the Queen of England something she she desired. It just sucked that her usual desire was her youngest son at home in the palace, behaving himself and bored out of his mind. “You want me to believe that you’re not making an assumption?” He questioned her in disbelief, his jacket hung over his arm as he leaned on the railing beside him. “Everyone makes assumptions and you made yours at least five minutes ago”

“If you get there first then people can’t make assumptions about you quite as easily. If you were to do it now you’d look like a hypocrite.” Charlotte tucked some hair behind her ear, giving him a tight lipped smile. Even if he went on to follow up on the assumption chat the woman stayed silent. She hated to lose but with this man it seemed a little harder than usual to hold the upper hand. The brunette liked it to a point, but couldn’t help but feel slight aggravation bubbling in her stomach. “Are you done talking about assumptions? I don’t know if you’re enjoying yourself but I’m finding the whole topic a little dull, or are you trying to show me that’s just the kind of person you are?” This time the look she shot him was a lot more shrouded in confidence, a look she’d learnt from her father, something he used when he was in court so behaving like he was cock of the walk. An attitude one of his twins often adopted. “So you’ve been out all night behaving badly and what, you want me to kiss your feet because you might get to be a king if you somehow orchestrate your own brothers death? No thank you.”