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May. 14th, 2008
[RP Thread for fey-fire] Uptown, Girl
May. 14th, 2008 10:30 pmThey didn’t want her on the busiest nights at the bar and she begged off on one of their slower nights, leaving Pippa to her own devices several nights in a row. Part of her felt bad for the passive aggressive behavior but the part of her that was still stinging from what she considered a personal attack believed she was entirely justified in committing the small act of subterfuge. If she wasn’t at Last Call tonight, hadn’t been the night before and wouldn’t be for the next few days…well, the red haired woman knew that things would slowly come undone.
She didn’t like knowing that she was intentionally causing havoc at the bar she dearly loved or that she was going to give Mike, the owner, one hell of a headache to sort out. But she also refused to be treated in such a demeaning manner and then turn around and meekly continue to ensure that the business ran smoothly. She was so much more than just a waitress there. The nights she worked, Pippa generally ran the place from open to close. She handled all the paper work, dealt with the talent (all of the talent, not just her boyfriend’s band), made certain that stock never ran low or went unordered. She kept in contact with all the vendors they used and made sure Last Call was in good standing with them all.
If she wasn’t there, she knew by and large all of these things would be left undone. Some because the other waitresses never stopped to consider all the extra work Pippa did and what it actually takes to run a busy little night spot and the rest simply because Kelly didn’t have the business savvy or the people skills to fill Pippa’s shoes. And then there were the customers. Pippa made serving drinks look easy. She rarely wrote an order down and even more rarely did she get an order wrong. She remembered the names of regulars, let them run a tab, recalled their preferred drinks and ordering habits. She treated them like friends, not just patrons with cash.
All of these things ran through her head as she got dressed, fixed her hair, made herself up. She was going out tonight; into the city proper. Manhattan. Breaker Street had a gig at a larger venue for a change and she intended to show up not only to support their efforts but because she genuinely missed hearing them play live.
Pippa gave a self-conscious laugh at the notion. Rory Stone, leader of the band, was her boyfriend. Her significant other.
Still, she knew she was blushing as she took the ferry across the water. Butterflies danced in her belly during the short cab ride into the trendy part of town. She had to concentrate to subdue a slight tremble once in the club, her hand stamped as proof that she was old enough to drink. Unhindered by the need to wait on people, Pippa circulated through the crowd a bit aimlessly, lips twitching with a secretive smile as she caught the tell-tale signs of the band running a final sound check. Hopefully she’d be able to find a spot near the stage once they began to play. She was here to listen, not necessarily dance.
She had toyed with keeping her presence unknown for the time being but as soon as she caught sight of Rory, his back to the crowd, adjusting the strings of his guitar, and heard him laughing at something Morrie was saying, she gave up the idea.
“So, I heard this was amateur night. You guys any good?” The look on her face was all innocence as Ro turned around to look for the owner of a voice he knew very well. “Hi, Ro.”
She didn’t like knowing that she was intentionally causing havoc at the bar she dearly loved or that she was going to give Mike, the owner, one hell of a headache to sort out. But she also refused to be treated in such a demeaning manner and then turn around and meekly continue to ensure that the business ran smoothly. She was so much more than just a waitress there. The nights she worked, Pippa generally ran the place from open to close. She handled all the paper work, dealt with the talent (all of the talent, not just her boyfriend’s band), made certain that stock never ran low or went unordered. She kept in contact with all the vendors they used and made sure Last Call was in good standing with them all.
If she wasn’t there, she knew by and large all of these things would be left undone. Some because the other waitresses never stopped to consider all the extra work Pippa did and what it actually takes to run a busy little night spot and the rest simply because Kelly didn’t have the business savvy or the people skills to fill Pippa’s shoes. And then there were the customers. Pippa made serving drinks look easy. She rarely wrote an order down and even more rarely did she get an order wrong. She remembered the names of regulars, let them run a tab, recalled their preferred drinks and ordering habits. She treated them like friends, not just patrons with cash.
All of these things ran through her head as she got dressed, fixed her hair, made herself up. She was going out tonight; into the city proper. Manhattan. Breaker Street had a gig at a larger venue for a change and she intended to show up not only to support their efforts but because she genuinely missed hearing them play live.
And
, she smiled to herself as she applied another layer of lipgloss, if she happened to look as if she were dressing to impress the lead singer, so what?
Maybe she’d be able to persuade him to come home with her tonight.Pippa gave a self-conscious laugh at the notion. Rory Stone, leader of the band, was her boyfriend. Her significant other.
Hers
. If she wanted to flirt with him and play the part of adoring girlfriend for the night instead of simply helpful barmaid, that was her prerogative, wasn’t it? And there was certainly no cause for the nervousness she felt, she knew Ro and the rest of the band would be happy to see her. Pleasantly surprised, perhaps. Still, she knew she was blushing as she took the ferry across the water. Butterflies danced in her belly during the short cab ride into the trendy part of town. She had to concentrate to subdue a slight tremble once in the club, her hand stamped as proof that she was old enough to drink. Unhindered by the need to wait on people, Pippa circulated through the crowd a bit aimlessly, lips twitching with a secretive smile as she caught the tell-tale signs of the band running a final sound check. Hopefully she’d be able to find a spot near the stage once they began to play. She was here to listen, not necessarily dance.
She had toyed with keeping her presence unknown for the time being but as soon as she caught sight of Rory, his back to the crowd, adjusting the strings of his guitar, and heard him laughing at something Morrie was saying, she gave up the idea.
“So, I heard this was amateur night. You guys any good?” The look on her face was all innocence as Ro turned around to look for the owner of a voice he knew very well. “Hi, Ro.”
