#clsoed

Holy crap! Is that who I think it is? Dollie Lovell! You mean the stripper at the Stripclub? You know people say she looks like undisclosed, but I definitely don’t see it. I heard she’s twenty-six, and dang does it suit her well.

I’ve heard she’s pretty flighty, tactless and naive. Though her friends seem to use the words delicate, feminine and wild.

Do you know anything about her? I know a couple things.

- Dollie Lovell grew up as Maureen DeBois in New Orleans, Louisiana. Her family was the epitome of rednecks and die-hard Baptists. Like any teenager growing up in a home with so many rules and religious obligations, it was suffocating. She sought to escape by any means necessary. It turned her into a rebellious girl with a wild streak. She craved to explore and discover her own identity.

- Coming to Chicago would put her back in touch with Leland Graves. He was her best friend growing up, they did everything together. One of their teenage daydreams was to have their own band. Dollie had a good set of pipes on her and years of practice singing in the church choir, she was supposed to be the singer and for a while she was. Until a hippie commune passed through town. Dollie hit the wind and left with them at tender age sixteen. Her parents could only shake their heads and refused to keep chasing a child who was chasing the devil. She never thought her parents would ever be right about anything.

- The commune preached about peace, love, healing, and freedom. As it’s popularity grew and found a place to be established locals knew it as just a band of hippies living together, doing drugs and having a lot of free love sex. Crazy, but harmless. The reality was, as it was a very secretive place. Nearly self-sufficient and rarely stepped out into the public’s eye. When people entered they were never seen or heard from again. So it’s no surprise that when a young lady, barely a woman, escaped and no one on the outside was the wiser. Bit and pieces of her memory were lost within its walls after only a year into her stay where she sustained a significant head injury.

Natalie entered the café in her Sunday best looking as she just stepped out of church. Despite it being barely spring she was dressed for summer. The yellow dress came below to the knees, and was patterned with white flowers. A cotton white cashmere sweater completed the look. She even took the time to throw some make-up on her typically bare face. The café mimicked a French café almost to the point of being a bit on the kitsch side. She didn't see Marina so she grabbed a seat for two by the front window. Going back and forth between her cell and the menu she noticed all the other patrons heads move to the front door. Natalie followed suit already knowing Marina must have made her entrance. Raising her hand she gestured to the beautiful blonde, and smiled.  "Good morning, you look lovely."

marinapetrovich-rp

It was as though time itself had slowed around him. The burning anticipation in his chest barely ebbed as the quiet hum of the amp became the soul noise in the air. His eyes feel shut to hide the scene of the dingy bar around the stage, his hands moving blind and unguided to their respective positions. Three quiet ticks from the drum sticks behind him before the first hit of the drums like a shot fired to signal a race. He felt the first strum of his pick against the strings and felt the nerves wash away. Beautiful sound filled the walls of the over-sold pub, gripping him like a life line and pulling him from life’s Tumultuous waters. Music had always been that way for him, like breaking the surface and pulling air into your lungs just seconds before drowning, like being lead from a dark cave you were certain you would never escape. It was his life, his breath, his heartbeat.

As the hum of the music played right from his soul filled the air he found himself able to open his eyes, to scan the area about. A quick look at the side profile of his best friend, his only friend, singing each line of songs they had written together filled him with such a joy he could not explain. View wandering to the crowd around him he found it excited and filled with enjoyment. He had never loved anything as much as he loved the feeling of playing music for people who enjoyed it, bringing people just a few hours of happiness and disconnect from the harsh world outside. This was how he wanted to live his life. It was panning out to be one of the most perfect nights of his young life, but there is no such thing as a perfect night and Kyle Steele knew that better than anyone.

It was to be the first thought that would cross his mind as the pub began to move and shake, as the power to the amps and microphones failed as the crowd huddled in confusion. The first wave of tremors had come softly, lost in the pounding music. These were more violent, more pronounced. These would not be ignored. All remained silent between the first tangible wave and the second, but as the building began to shake and creak again the crowd scattered in fear and confusion. The young blond removed his precious guitar, setting it in its case in hopes that should the building crumble the reinforced case he kept it in might save it from harm. Ellis was his next concern. He had already dropped his microphone, his eyes fixed on the crowd of people by the door. Kyle’s hand fell on his shoulder, gesturing to the window beside. With a very swift motion it was broken with a chair and Kyle offered to help Ellis out onto the street. The pub was unsafe, but Ellis could make a run for it.

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” The younger Englishman asked his very best friend.

“No.” Kyle replied with a quick shake of his head. “You go. I’ll catch up. I’m going to try to help these people get out of here!”

“Be careful! I didn't bring you to London to die!”

As Kyle registered the warning he nodded, watching the figure of his singer disappear from view. His attention snapped from his friend to the people at the door and he found himself pushing his way to the front door, ushering people out one at a time. The bar was soon drained near to the last guest, but the next wave of tremors brought the back half of the bar down. Leaving the door in the capable hands of another passing good soul he moved around the remaining guests to destroyed area, calling out for any living soul that might be there. No one that he could head, but it was rather hard to hear anything over the screams and shouts in the streets. He waited a beat longer, one more yell to any list soul before he retreated again to the entrance. He found himself alone, all others having fled for better prospects. Only now would he allow himself to make a run for it.

By now the streets were all but deserted, crowds moving along to the edge of the city to avoid crumbling buildings. He could see damage already being done, buildings already damaged and his heart begged with him to pause and check for trapped souls. He couldn’t. No one man could save everyone, that much he knew. As he ran, however a figure took his attention more than the wreckage and shaking ground.  As he took his first step out of the bar he barely had a chance t glance to the left of himself, and thus almost ran directly into a man in a brown coat. At first he thought it must have been another guest from the bar. He expected panic, anguish or worry, but with the possible exception of worry, he found none of that. In fact this man seemed less-than-keen un running away. Was he alright?