#gothicstarter

Charlotte couldn’t remember the last time she was able to walk around Eden by herself. The fact that she wasn’t even allowed to be by herself made her want to rebel even more against the people holding her hostage in this god-forsaken town. If it meant sneaking out of the backdoor of The Pyramid while her bodyguards were distracted by their lapdances (which is exactly what she did this evening), then she would happily take advantage of the opportunity. 

                    Rhett sat quietly at the edge of the room, light eyes flicker from each woman to the next beneath the thick upper-rim of his glasses, fingertip swirling around the edge of his glass -- mentally noting which women to steer clear from, their drunken wails offensive to his acute hearing. His head dipped forward and hand tugged upwards to meet with the brim of his glass, only to snap backwards, finishing the rest off the amber liquor. 

Bryce had to hand it to Cleopatra; as ancient as the woman was, she sure as hell knew how to throw a party. The smell of liquor and drugs hung heavy in the air and Bryce felt calmed and suffocated by it as she swayed her body along to the music alongside the other guests. As the new song started up, she slipped her way through the crowd to get herself another drink, already feeling like she had sweated off the bulk of her previous buzz. As the bartender slid her a drink, she could feel another’s gaze on her. She groaned, having hoped to do more dancing and drinking than interacting this evening. Throwing the person a sideways glance, she quirked a brow. “The fuck are you lookin’ at?” She asked, venom laced in her voice before she had even laid eyes on the fellow patron.

“You would think frat boys would have evolved just slightly from the whole ‘mirror in your pocket’ pickup line. Though I suppose you can’t expect much originality and cohesive thought from someone wearing a pink polo and plaid shorts in a strip joint, can I?”

Going to The Pyramid alone was customary for Charlotte. It was an escape for her- temporarily out of her husband’s reach and a chance to catch her breath every once in a while.  She always sits at the bar with a vodka soda in front of her, like she was doing tonight, and simply watches. The dancers, the attendees, the employees... Whatever and whoever caught her eye. The distractions were gladly welcomed.

     “Are ya ready to order, darlin’?”