Closing Time at the Salon
The salon and spa where Star worked was a small, chic affair with rose-colored walls and tile floors. It had been designed with the same philosophy that Star’s mother applied to boutique shopping. The smaller and more spare, the better the quality of clothes, even if there were only twenty outfits on display. A discount store with racks and racks of clearance items was the fashion kiss of death.

So the salon had only about two thousand square feet to its name, including the offices, but it was nicely appointed, even if the over-the-top color scheme was nauseating.

It closed just after 9p.m. Star had received her own set of keys. It wasn’t a sign of her value, so much as a sign of her convenience. It meant that Star had the privilege of staying late to sweep up the day’s messes, turn down the lights, and lock the doors. These things she did in a hurry, because she liked to take advantage of the chance to give herself facials with top-of-the-line masks and creams. She used the sample tubes. That way, her boss wouldn’t notice any loss of products.

Star justified this to herself easily. If she used the products, she was in a better position to recommend them to other people.

Freshly exfoliated and nearly done for the night, she dragged the broom across the floor. Every once in a while, a gang of motorcycles roared by. They were in town for Bikefest. The wiccan figured she’d have known about it in advance, if she was still in the entertainment business. The biker crowd didn’t really go in for facials though, however ill-advised that might be.

The sound of a door opening would almost certainly mean another customer. This one, however, would have to be refused service. It was particularly late and the only employee there was suffering the inevitable combination of boredom and tiredness. The woman was as black in her choice of clothing as she was in hair. Nobody had a need to wear sunglasses at night, either. Not unless they were suffering from some sort of medical complaint of a fashion faux pas.

One probably being as bad as the other, in the grand scheme of things.

"Um, hi... I believe I've got a waxing appointment involving a gold bikini?"

The brunette removed her glasses and smiled a friendly smile.

"Hey," Victoria greeted. "Got time for a fellow down-and-outer...?"

“Vicky!”

Star dropped her broom with a clack and ran over with arms extended. “Hey! Come in!” Not that the invitation waited long enough for a response. In less time than it took the vampire to respond, the lighter-haired female had already thrown herself at the brunette for an overzealous hug.

Star squeezed the thin vampire and rocked her back and forth.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” she enthused, continuing with no couth, “I was beginning to think you wound up on the ugly end of a stick.”

Star finally backed up, though her fingers still clutched the other‘s shoulders. “Okay, let me look at you.” Brown eyes did a quick scan of the darkly attired woman, taking in the detail of sunglasses in her hand. Interesting. Very ‘Hollywood, go away paparazzi’. As could be expected, Victoria was sleek and stylish, but there was something off about the appearance. Star’s brow furrowed. “Are you losing weight?”

"With worry, yeah..."

It was gallows humor and that formal smile tightened a little before leaving her face completely.

"My, um... The one who made me's pretty much gone the disownership route," Victoria explained, tucking a few errant strands of black hair behind ear. She was coming to accept it, but thinking on the subject still hurt. Vicky was, to put it bluntly, having to toughen up. "It wasn't even anything I did, but... Well, there y'are."

She did not want to appear melancholy, though. That would do no good to anyone. Still, there was no sense in hiding how she felt.

"Your note came at the right time, y'know? It really meant a lot. Especially the bikini thing," she joked with a wink.

Star’s mouth flapped. “Deanna… dumped you?” Not that dumping really put the proper label on it. In a weird way, she guessed it was more like being disowned by a mother. Not that it would break Star’s heart to see hers ride off into the sunset, but she could imagine it’d be painful for others.

“Well she’s clearly out of her mind,” the blonde continued, ushering her friend to a swiveling chair near the hair styling stations. “I’ve been run out on before, once, and I’ve gotta tell ya, I still think it was his loss.” She was speaking of course of Tyler, and the time he ran off to Japan for months before his apparent death.

Star sat in the next chair over and swiveled around to face her friend. She put her chin in her hands. “If I knew you were coming, I would’ve worn the bikini.” She plucked her bra strap out of the neck of her top. “This one’s pink.” It snapped back into position.

“So I guess you’re not rebuilding Fang Noir?”

Victoria gave a small, nervous cough. Her expression seemed to betray the fact that she was still capable of finding certain things alternatively amusing and titillating.

"I should probably tell you," the vampiress began with a further clearing of throat. "I thought I was hallucinating or whatever, but it turns out some kind of spell fell over Nevada and I really was in a TV show... I had the biggest crush on you!"

Vicky was not embarrassed by speaking the truth. Star was not the kind of woman to be offended by such. In fact, she figured the girl's ego would be rather flattered by it, if anything.

"So, um... Underwear and you has an obvious effect on me," she hinted, her mouth still curved upwards. The brunette made an attempt to recompose herself by looking away for a moment, but her face refused to co-operate and she giggled at the fact.

"And, uh... I've been thinking about that. I had one idea and... Hmm... Things've been kind of down for me, recently, but maybe you're right. Maybe I should get to that again."

She cast a serious look at the blonde and thought for a moment.

"How'd you like to be a movie star...?"

Star dropped her chin, but her eyebrows shot skyward. A crush on her? Perhaps Vicky shouldn’t look so surprised by it. They had, at one time, shared quite the make-out session on the wiccan’s couch. Since it was a while ago, Star supposed it was possible the vampire had forgotten.

Gods… she hoped not. Being forgotten was not flattering to the ego.

“First of all… The only thing awkward about your crush is that you had it on Stella Thompson, the actress version of me, who made it big playing a transvestite. Yeah,“ she gestured back and forth with two fingers, “Not a solo hallucination. Second of all…” Star cocked her head. “Every girl wants to be a movie star, but lay it bare for me. This isn’t an invitation to porn, is it?”

"I know!" Victoria pseudo-chastised. "I'm just, y'know... Saying... Back when I was 'Vicki', with an 'I', I wasn't getting any, at all and you were, like, the only one I kept thinking about. Really majorly, too... Like, 'almost every night' majorly."

Victoria gave a comical look to the floor, then back up again. That they found one another attractive was old news. What she had experienced was quite a few magitudes in excess of that.

To put it mildly.

"And that depends on how you define 'pornography', my dear..." The vampiress amended, feeling like she should be reaching for a glass of drink, right about now, but having none to physically grab for. She did, however, slightly lean forward. "I was pretty much an expert on every vampire flick going, even before getting my fangs. I'm always finding things wrong with them, too... So, why not make some?"

It was concluded of with a shrug. As with Fang Noir's last incarnation, this, too, had come from an idea of what she was obviously good at. In the last case, it was the dark side of history. In this, it would be undead cinema.

"You can make them on digital camera and have it all edited on computer, these days!" Vicky enthused. "I'd just need a small staff for that... And I could re-use some of the room plans for a few sets, right? I already had changing rooms, so... Why not? And besides, how could I pass up the chance to show some of that 'Stella' magic on screen, for real, in a naughty vampire situation, hmm?"

In a rare display, Star was speechless, except for a little exhaled laugh of disbelief. On anybody else, she would’ve excused it for a pipe dream, something beyond a regular person’s means to accomplish. Somehow on Victoria, it seemed plausible. She wondered if immortality made a personality confident enough to try anything.

“How naughty?” she wanted to know, not that she particularly cared. Star was hardly a puritan. No, she wouldn’t go in for brazen sex acts on film. She held herself in too high of a regard for that. It was her firm opinion that the ‘real deal’ with her was worth more than eight lousy bucks on a movie ticket. But shy of the deed, she’d probably strip a few layers off for the sake of a horror film. What good was one without nudity?

“Oh who cares, I’d do it for fun. Who else’ve you got in mind… Leah?”

She asked it half-joking. It happened that Leah was the only acquaintance she remembered they had in common, other than Deanna.

"I, uh... No," Victoria hesitantly decided. "She's photogenic enough, for sure, but there's..." The whole 'almost-killing-a-friend-of-Mallory's' issue would have to be carefully side-stepped. "There's a thing I need to speak with her about," Victoria gently excused. "Way before even approaching her on this. I wasn't able to get in touch before all the stuff in my unlife."

Still, Vicky sensed a coup, if she was able to get Star on side for this. The girl had looks.

Now, if only she was capable of remembering lines, too...

"You're actually the first," she added, breezing her diplomatic way through the minefield lablled 'Leah Allen'. "And I don't know about the rest of the world, but I consider 'erotic' to be a darned sight more than two people getting their clothes off and going at it, like it was the end of the world!"

That was one thing Victoria Foxworth, both of life and unlife, was a stickler for. Of course, with Star being Star, she was no doubt aware of how very uncrude the usually-seductive vampire's tastes were.

"No, there's... I can't quite explain it," she considered, glancing up in thought for a few seconds. "There's a certain... Exotic quality about the subject I'd like to bring to the big screen. And, being as I now am a member of the fanged set, I'm pretty sure I can do that... Even I'd still be tempted to sit you down for a casting couch session, regardless."

A puzzled look crossed Star’s face, as she tried to determine whether the couch thing was an innuendo or a reference to a professional part of the film industry. A certain memorable scene from the movie ‘Fame’ came to mind, during which a wannabe starlet had trusted a photographer for a legitimate job, only to realize it involved nakey-time in front of the camera.

Regardless of whether it was an innuendo, Star felt justified in socking Victoria on the arm. “Hey! Don’t worry, I can act,” she assured the brunette. To be honest, her experience in the arts was limited to spirited tap-dancing and a couple runs of community theatre as a teen, but Star had utter confidence in herself. She could do anything she put her mind to.

Except spelling well. And maybe Calculus.

“What would you call your production company?” she asked, getting excited over the prospect. It was the most interesting thing going, as far as she was concerned. Sweeping up the droppings of haircuts could hardly be considered entertainment.

Rubbing said-arm lightly, Victoria had only grinned in her direction, by way of a response. Quite what she was thinking of when she did so, however, might have to remain a teasing mystery...

"Well, I was thinking of..." The vampiress blinked rapidly, looking away, as she appeared to mentally sort through the most applicable labels. In truth, it was more a case of gathering her confidence for a potential rejection of her idea as 'crap'. "Yeah, it's... Well..."

A pause.

"'Development Hell'... Whatcha' think?"

Star twisted her hair thought. “Unexpected… but not bad. Just as long as you come up with a cool animation to go with it, on the front of your movies. Not like that weird one where the kid in swimming trunks randomly jumps off a pier and freezes mid-air.”

She couldn’t remember for the life of her what company it belonged to, but she always thought it was inexplicably dumb. Too poignant or something.

“Anyway, I think it’s good. I mean, you’re doing better than me. When shit hit the fan, what did I do? Moved in with Leah and got a job using as little of my brain as possible. These aren’t even skills I’m using.” She pointed at the wax station.

Rather than launch into a pity party, Star allowed herself three-point-five seconds to mope and then went on, “But it’s like that time I was talking about, when Tyler and me broke up? That’s when I got handed The Witching Hour, and I completely poured myself into it. It actually helped. Maybe this is exactly what you need, because it’ll be totally yours and since it’s just starting out, all the hard work’s going to hand your ass to you, anyway. Distraction central.”

Inadvertently, Star had just given her friend a reason to feel suddenly depressed. Not for herself, but, well, for Star. The girl was doing facials for other people. She was probably even waxing pubic hair, for God's sake.

It must have been the ultimate punishment for a girl like Star.

Even then, it was not so much that, as an obvious reminder of the 'Victoria who could have been'. Star, likewise, had owned one of the most popular entertainment venues in Las Vegas, had it ripped away from her, then been forced to do...

The types of jobs she once had.

Bottom lip quivered and she suddenly felt like hugging the life out of Star. Oh, heavens, but it was difficult to imagine the sort of overheads the living had to deal with... Dear God, she needed to help this woman! This poor, poor woman! Someone forced to sweep up floors, like some Victorian street urchin!

"Oh, Star!" She cried and flung arms around her dear, beloved friend. "You can't even buy the basics! You have to spend all your money on, like, food and taxes and-and-and stuff! I'm so going to get you an Oscar! Or... Well, OK, maybe not an Oscar, but an Emmy - at the very least! And your own talk show!"

Practically bowled over, Star grasped the stool for dear life. The last thing she wanted was to fall back and crack her head open on the tile floor. Not only would it hurt, she’d have to clean it up. “Jesus, Vicky, it’s okay!” Now she felt it necessary to console her friend for her own life’s circumstances. In a way, Star hadn’t realized just how shitty she had it, until she saw the pity in Victoria’s eyes.

Holy shit… what had she gotten herself into?

Was it somehow worse than her old job at the Gas ’n Go? Was it so bad that she shouldn’t show her face in public? So bad that she’d have to lie on dates and call herself a Flight Attendant? ‘Peanuts? Pillow?’

Not that she dated. Somewhere between murdered love-of-her-life and now, she’d forgotten to do things like meet men. For such a big city, Las Vegas seemed to run at a severe shortage of them.

“Just… remember me when the time comes to cast a gorgeous damsel in distress. I can scream like you wouldn’t…believe,” Star reassured, giving the vampire’s back a double-handed pat. “Plus, hey… witchcraft. Authenticity!”


[Thread: Open to Star and Victoria}