A Snake Charmer (introduction)
Jul. 15th, 2015 10:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snakechahmah"Berühren sie nicht mich, you bastard!" She yelled out with as much passion as she put in her cabaret dance rehearsal not even an hour ago. Dark mahogany colored eyes that matched the Lautari fiddle on the desk glared at Emcee venomously and she only wished that looks could kill. It'd make this so much easier. "My mother has not been dead a year and you have already stolen everything from them. From me!" Her hand, speckled in intricate black henna whirls and enough rings to rival Saturn's, reached out for the tacky faux diamond encrusted tissue box and hurled it at him followed by a paperweight and then the papers that were underneath it. "So don't you tell me to calm down, you lying sack of shit! Hurensohn!" The lawyer next to Emcee ducked down as the tissue box veered off course and flew passed his head. Sure he looked up at her through his wire rimmed glasses with much disapproval, but she had probably helped their case by throwing a grade-A tantrum. Gotta love lawyers, always thinking of a way to screw you over for a buck. For fuck's sake, prostitutes had more dignity. Emcee side stepped the paper weight that slammed a small crater into the cheap plaster wall of the office and brought his hand up to shield his face from the onslaught of paper cuts. "Tsk, tsk, tsk." The way he clicked his tongue, slow and coldly with an indifferent lazy disapproval made her shudder. "You must forgive her." He said calmly, still looking at her while addressing Errol Kline, his noxious lawyer whose pinched features looked as if they had melted off his face and bunched up in an unattractive mass in the middle."She has been having such a hard time since the loss of her mother."
"Of course." He said uncertainly, eying Ezera's surroundings in hopes that she had run out of things to throw.
"No", she countered with a shaky voice pointing her finger at him. "What I'm having a hard time with is you stealing my parents business from them. Their passion! I'm their daughter. I understand cabaret. This nightclub should pass to me! What I'm having a hard time with is that you are taking their memory away. That was my mothers violin and it was passed down to me. I want it back!"
"Well, actually, Miss Darkch-"
"Baader" She cut in rudely.
"Well, that's the very problem. All legal documents state your last name as Darkchild. There is no proof that you are their child at all. What I mean is that... you would have a hard time proving it in court."
"That's ridiculous. Just ridiculous. My mother had all the appropriate documents in her safety deposit box. Her will-" A harsh reality hit her and in that very moment, Ezera grow a year older, wiser. The carefree naivety shattered by the hammer of deception. The lawyer nervously fidgeted with his glasses, pushing them up to the bridge of his nose. He wasn't a bad man. Or at least not to the core. It was why he was so ill-suited for the job, yet so easily manipulated by Emcee that it made him an undeniably perfect choice. "Oh, yes, I see." Began Ezera softly. Directing her gaze at the tall German, her usually bright eyes filled with a joie de vivre, were muddy with anger.
"Tell me Emcee, how'd you get mamma to sign you into the will? Is that it? Is that what happened? Did you wait until she was not able to register things? Did you grip your hand around hers as you signed the document? How'd you do it? What did you do?!" The real problems started after her mother had died. The legal battles that drained her energy dry like leeches, the constant fighting for things that were rightly hers. She had to learn all of that. Learn to fight her battles. In that way, she was still like a child, stumbling in the dark and making mistakes. "This is a new low, even for you."
"If you could produce the necessary proof then-" Began Kline with shoddy confidence liqueured up by a false sense of power.
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Ezera snapped shortly and threw her hands up in exasperation. "Dig mommy up? Oh, well, there's an idea! Let's dig mommy up. We can have wonderful tea party and she could tell you herself! This cabaret nightclub is mine.That violin is mine." The German straightened up stiffly, donning his reserved nature like a uniform as if she had uncomfortably hit on some nerve.
His tiny smirk was as fake as the fur boa that draped haphazardly over his chair among other stage relics stuffed in various corners: top hats on top of card board boxes, garters, red bow ties hanging from a coat rack, white theatrical pancake makeup, red and black lipstick, false lashes, a bomber jacket, combat boots and and jar of pomade. Emcee was the epitome of hypocrisy laced into a tight male corset when no one was looking. And, sometimes, when they were.
"Mien Lieben Kline," Emcee addressed the lawyer smoothly. Ezera wondering if the lawyer knew that 'klin' meant small in German. "would you be so kind as to give Ezera and I only but a brief moment to discuss the matter privately?"
"Of course." Mr. Small got up nervously, happy to be asked to negate himself out of the room and away from a semi-domestic dispute. He nearly tripped out of the cluttered 'office' when the corner of his brown loafer got stuck in the strap of a silver coin bra. Stumbling forward, the bra followed him out, marking each flailing step with a clang. Emcee walked over to the door and softly closed it. A thick uncomfortable silence permeated everything like heavy fog sizzling off the streets after a summer storm in the city. Perching himself at the corner of the desk, his stoic mask made him look like a gargoyle adorning the rim of a skyscraper with it's legs hanging off. To describe his eyes as beady would have been to give into stereotypes. No, he had handsome eyes that glittered like the Aegean sea if it had frozen over. Cold. Efficient. Deceptively calm like a current in an otherwise placid ocean. It was his words, however, that fell from his lips like frozen chips of ice.
"Wat do you want, you ungrateful child?" If he was born in another age, the tall Aryan might as hell been part of Hilter's youth with his natural California sun bleached hair that already had been strikingly blond and piercing cold eyes born of the Bavarian alps. On the other hand, his taste for exotic carnal pleasures would have gotten him a one way ticket on the Reichsbahn. "Are you trying to ruin everything?"
"You mean, you. Am I trying to ruin you. Let us remember, Emcee, who is stealing from whom. This is part of my family's legacy. It was made in honor of my grandfather and I will not let you take it away from me. I will fight you on this." This amused the handsome yet slightly effeminate morally deficient man. Amused? Angered, perhaps.
"You and what team of lawyers that you can't afford? Hmmm? Tell me. Be happy, child, that you have a job here. I could have slammed the doors on your face when you came crawling back."
"I own part of this cabaret. I have every right to be here. Without me, this would be just another nightclub going down the drain. Don't think for a second that I don't know that you are using me to propel it out of the shit hole you ran it into in less than seven months. I will find out how you managed this, this....fraud! This place will be mine and I will run you into the ground." Her cold, calculating voice surprised even herself.
She didn't anticipate that he would bolt off the desk and push her back into the wall with his forearm. Her breath caught in her throat in surprise and fear at the aggression. Suddenly, every bad thing seemed possible. Her wide brown eyes stared wildly into his.
"We shall see who will run whom into the ground, Fräulein." A lock of her brown hair slipped through his fingers as he tucked it behind her ear. "I have all the time in the world, my dear, to rid myself of your insolence. This will be my club 100% one day, no matter how it makes your parents turn in their graves. And all I have to do is wait for you to join them." He ended in a sing-song voice.
What? How'd he? Sonofabitch! "Oh, yes, your mother told me of your predicament, my dear. Such a pity that such a beautiful girl might die so young. Tell me Ezera, is it worth fighting me the last few years of your life when you could be a star in your right? If that half-wit talent Dita Von Teese can do it than surely you can." She hardly budged when he leaned in to smell her hair. It was as if he were a wild animal and she needed to be completely still to avoid getting mauled. She wasn't about to tell him that there was a chance that she'd survive one way or another. Swallowing thickly through a constricted throat, she stared at the wall beyond him. If he slammed the back of her head into the wall with enough force now, it'd all be over. But he wasn't that stupid. On the contrary. Letting her go, he stepped back and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the bomber jacket. "Now, get to work," he mumbled while holding the cancer stick inbetween his lips. "We have a show to do in four nights." Light shakes racked her body, but her eyes reminded as angry and determined as ever. "Go to hell, Em. You blvdes arschloch. You go practice since you're most likely to fuck up." Storming out of the room, quickly, she threw the door closed behind her, leaving it shaking it on its frame much like her hands were. Quickly walking through the nightclub, she came to stand next to the grand piano. A string of fowl notes offended the air as her palm hit the keys in anger. It was best not to be here. Let things cool off. Tonight, yes, tonight during the performance they'd have to pretend to be friends. Like good actors.
Do you really want to spend the last few years of your life fighting me?
Was he right? The stage door burst open as she shot through it, needing to get away.
Shouldn't have lost your cool like that. You know what he's like. Catch more flies with honey. If he is a snake then be a snake charmer. Her dark eyes caressed the strangers that she weaved through on the street. Yes, I can try to play at this game.
"Of course." He said uncertainly, eying Ezera's surroundings in hopes that she had run out of things to throw.
"No", she countered with a shaky voice pointing her finger at him. "What I'm having a hard time with is you stealing my parents business from them. Their passion! I'm their daughter. I understand cabaret. This nightclub should pass to me! What I'm having a hard time with is that you are taking their memory away. That was my mothers violin and it was passed down to me. I want it back!"
"Well, actually, Miss Darkch-"
"Baader" She cut in rudely.
"Well, that's the very problem. All legal documents state your last name as Darkchild. There is no proof that you are their child at all. What I mean is that... you would have a hard time proving it in court."
"That's ridiculous. Just ridiculous. My mother had all the appropriate documents in her safety deposit box. Her will-" A harsh reality hit her and in that very moment, Ezera grow a year older, wiser. The carefree naivety shattered by the hammer of deception. The lawyer nervously fidgeted with his glasses, pushing them up to the bridge of his nose. He wasn't a bad man. Or at least not to the core. It was why he was so ill-suited for the job, yet so easily manipulated by Emcee that it made him an undeniably perfect choice. "Oh, yes, I see." Began Ezera softly. Directing her gaze at the tall German, her usually bright eyes filled with a joie de vivre, were muddy with anger.
"Tell me Emcee, how'd you get mamma to sign you into the will? Is that it? Is that what happened? Did you wait until she was not able to register things? Did you grip your hand around hers as you signed the document? How'd you do it? What did you do?!" The real problems started after her mother had died. The legal battles that drained her energy dry like leeches, the constant fighting for things that were rightly hers. She had to learn all of that. Learn to fight her battles. In that way, she was still like a child, stumbling in the dark and making mistakes. "This is a new low, even for you."
"If you could produce the necessary proof then-" Began Kline with shoddy confidence liqueured up by a false sense of power.
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Ezera snapped shortly and threw her hands up in exasperation. "Dig mommy up? Oh, well, there's an idea! Let's dig mommy up. We can have wonderful tea party and she could tell you herself! This cabaret nightclub is mine.That violin is mine." The German straightened up stiffly, donning his reserved nature like a uniform as if she had uncomfortably hit on some nerve.
His tiny smirk was as fake as the fur boa that draped haphazardly over his chair among other stage relics stuffed in various corners: top hats on top of card board boxes, garters, red bow ties hanging from a coat rack, white theatrical pancake makeup, red and black lipstick, false lashes, a bomber jacket, combat boots and and jar of pomade. Emcee was the epitome of hypocrisy laced into a tight male corset when no one was looking. And, sometimes, when they were.
"Mien Lieben Kline," Emcee addressed the lawyer smoothly. Ezera wondering if the lawyer knew that 'klin' meant small in German. "would you be so kind as to give Ezera and I only but a brief moment to discuss the matter privately?"
"Of course." Mr. Small got up nervously, happy to be asked to negate himself out of the room and away from a semi-domestic dispute. He nearly tripped out of the cluttered 'office' when the corner of his brown loafer got stuck in the strap of a silver coin bra. Stumbling forward, the bra followed him out, marking each flailing step with a clang. Emcee walked over to the door and softly closed it. A thick uncomfortable silence permeated everything like heavy fog sizzling off the streets after a summer storm in the city. Perching himself at the corner of the desk, his stoic mask made him look like a gargoyle adorning the rim of a skyscraper with it's legs hanging off. To describe his eyes as beady would have been to give into stereotypes. No, he had handsome eyes that glittered like the Aegean sea if it had frozen over. Cold. Efficient. Deceptively calm like a current in an otherwise placid ocean. It was his words, however, that fell from his lips like frozen chips of ice.
"Wat do you want, you ungrateful child?" If he was born in another age, the tall Aryan might as hell been part of Hilter's youth with his natural California sun bleached hair that already had been strikingly blond and piercing cold eyes born of the Bavarian alps. On the other hand, his taste for exotic carnal pleasures would have gotten him a one way ticket on the Reichsbahn. "Are you trying to ruin everything?"
"You mean, you. Am I trying to ruin you. Let us remember, Emcee, who is stealing from whom. This is part of my family's legacy. It was made in honor of my grandfather and I will not let you take it away from me. I will fight you on this." This amused the handsome yet slightly effeminate morally deficient man. Amused? Angered, perhaps.
"You and what team of lawyers that you can't afford? Hmmm? Tell me. Be happy, child, that you have a job here. I could have slammed the doors on your face when you came crawling back."
"I own part of this cabaret. I have every right to be here. Without me, this would be just another nightclub going down the drain. Don't think for a second that I don't know that you are using me to propel it out of the shit hole you ran it into in less than seven months. I will find out how you managed this, this....fraud! This place will be mine and I will run you into the ground." Her cold, calculating voice surprised even herself.
She didn't anticipate that he would bolt off the desk and push her back into the wall with his forearm. Her breath caught in her throat in surprise and fear at the aggression. Suddenly, every bad thing seemed possible. Her wide brown eyes stared wildly into his.
"We shall see who will run whom into the ground, Fräulein." A lock of her brown hair slipped through his fingers as he tucked it behind her ear. "I have all the time in the world, my dear, to rid myself of your insolence. This will be my club 100% one day, no matter how it makes your parents turn in their graves. And all I have to do is wait for you to join them." He ended in a sing-song voice.
What? How'd he? Sonofabitch! "Oh, yes, your mother told me of your predicament, my dear. Such a pity that such a beautiful girl might die so young. Tell me Ezera, is it worth fighting me the last few years of your life when you could be a star in your right? If that half-wit talent Dita Von Teese can do it than surely you can." She hardly budged when he leaned in to smell her hair. It was as if he were a wild animal and she needed to be completely still to avoid getting mauled. She wasn't about to tell him that there was a chance that she'd survive one way or another. Swallowing thickly through a constricted throat, she stared at the wall beyond him. If he slammed the back of her head into the wall with enough force now, it'd all be over. But he wasn't that stupid. On the contrary. Letting her go, he stepped back and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the bomber jacket. "Now, get to work," he mumbled while holding the cancer stick inbetween his lips. "We have a show to do in four nights." Light shakes racked her body, but her eyes reminded as angry and determined as ever. "Go to hell, Em. You blvdes arschloch. You go practice since you're most likely to fuck up." Storming out of the room, quickly, she threw the door closed behind her, leaving it shaking it on its frame much like her hands were. Quickly walking through the nightclub, she came to stand next to the grand piano. A string of fowl notes offended the air as her palm hit the keys in anger. It was best not to be here. Let things cool off. Tonight, yes, tonight during the performance they'd have to pretend to be friends. Like good actors.
Do you really want to spend the last few years of your life fighting me?
Was he right? The stage door burst open as she shot through it, needing to get away.
Shouldn't have lost your cool like that. You know what he's like. Catch more flies with honey. If he is a snake then be a snake charmer. Her dark eyes caressed the strangers that she weaved through on the street. Yes, I can try to play at this game.
