Summary:Gwen and Rebecca meet up and chat in the middle of a party. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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The party has been going on for a while at this point, and Rebecca Gadison has been continuing to blend in with the crowd, doing a pretty convincing job of acting like she belongs here. Of course, her skills at glamming herself up and that outfit she's wearing (https://tinyurl.com/y5ja5mnh) certainly help, including the way she walks in those strappy spike heels. She's on her third — or is it fourth? — glass of champagne by now, and definitely feeling the buzz. And it's then that she spots the blonde girl standing by herself, and heads in her direction. "Hey, there," she says as she approaches, the Texas drawl obvious in her voice. "Y'all look lonely. Want some comp'ny?"
Gwen, as it happens, is usually perfectly happy by herself. It's not that she goes out of her way to be introverted, specifically, it's just that if she's left drifting alone at a party she doesn't end up feeling left out or ignored or unpopular. It's also not that her outfit shouldn't be attracting a certain amount of male attention, either; she might not be wearing anything strappy or ritzy — just a blue dress with a short skirt that might've been $600 new but costs a tenth that in a thrift shop, and knee-height black boots — she's just gently rebuffed all such attention over the evening.
"Hmmm?" Gwen was looking out a window and in a bit of a reverie with a glass of boozeless coke, when she's adressed. "Oh! Sure." She smiles pleasantly. "Enjoying the party?"
"Sure am," Rebecca replies. "The little snacky things are good, and this stuff" She raises her half-drunk glass, swirling the bubbly in it just a little. "this stuff is good, but be careful, it kinda sneaks up on you!" She breaks into giggles a bit after that, though she recovers quickly enough. She also clearly doesn't know what actual good champagne is like, if she thinks what's being served at the party is all that wonderful.
"Name's Rebecca, Rebecca Gadison, but people call me 'Becca', she says, by way of introduction.
"Gwendolyn Stacy," replies the young blond, "But Gwen is good." She glances at her pure, unadulterated coka cola, and then back to Becca, putting two and two solidly together about what she's been drinking. She chuckles softly, and shakes her head, "I'm still a couple years too young for that stuff," she adds. "And I'm guessing you are too, but don't worry, I won't tell. Girl Guide's honor." She lifts her glass in a quick salute, then puts it to her lips and gulps down a mouthful. "Actually," she adds, "If you haven't tried the cupcakes, you should, they're amazing."
"They were prob'ly next, but thanks for lettin' me know," Becca responds, grinning. "So, you one of these movie guys' date, and he left you standin' here, or come by yourself, or what?"
"I got an invitation." Gwen shrugs lightly. "I know MJ, so she probably organized it, I'm guessing? I dunno, didn't ask. …I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, see." She shrugs, and swirls the drink in her glass a little, making it fizz and spit little bubbles all over the place. "I don't have a boyfriend and I haven't dated since high school… which admittedly was only over last spring." She perks an eyebrow upwards, "How about you? Came with date, date didn't show, came single…? Snuck in?"
With a conspiratorial grin, Becca leans close and says, "Well, I wasn't 'zactly invited, no. An' I came alone. Only been in the city a few weeks, don't have a boyfriend yet."
She pauses, blushing a little bit as she adds, "Or maybe this time, I'll find m'self a girlfriend."
Gwen smirks, and shakes her head. "Well, while there might be some who'd frown on that, I don't think anyone actually relevant to our interests is going to care." She has a sip from her drink, and ohs? "Well, come hang around the University for a while, sometime. There's no shortage of single boys and girls I promise." She pauses, and hmmms. "So… I'm guessing you moved from Texas. What brings you to New York?"
"Well, home wasn't home no more," Becca answers. "Daddy threw me out. Came home early an' caught me gettin' busy out by the pool with a friend. A girl friend. Figures the first time I ever get up the nerve to do somethin' after wantin' to for years, it all goes wrong."
Gwen's expression drops, as does her jaw, just a little, as she listens to what Becca has to say. "I…" she realizes her mouth is hanging open, and shuts in. "I… I am so sorry. You definitely deserved way better." She scratches the back of her head, trying to come up with… I mean… really, what do you say when someone tells you about encountering bigotry from their own parents? While being sensitive to the fact that they may've only told you because they were drunk?
"Your Dad didn't give you the love and protection you *deserve* as his daughter, and he definitely doesn't deserve you," she asserts. "But… but I'm still sorry it happened."
"Not like Momma argued with him when she got home," Becca says. "Wouldn't even talk t'me. I finished packin' what I could take with me, an' left."
Gwen's brow creases up in concern. "Well then, she doesn't deserve you either," the blond asserts. "But… now that you're here, have you got a place to stay? Found a job yet? I mean, sneaking into a party is cool, but a fridge with food in it is just kinda… better, y'know?"
Becca nods. "Camped out on rooftops, first couple nights, but I found a place over in M.T. — Nothin' fancy, but decent enough, an' it was cheap."
Gwen shrugs her shoulders, "Well, sure," she answers. "I'm *really* glad to hear you're not sleeping on rooftops. A place is good, and hey, anything that has some walls, a roof, and like… a fridge, is pretty great in my books." She pauses, and bites her bottom lip. "Got a cellphone handy? I could give you my number, in case you ever need help?"
"That's kind o'you," Becca says, smiling a bit again, as she goes for the Gucci-knockoff little purse hanging from a thin strap over her shoulder. "Sorry, haven't mem'rized the number yet. Hadda get one a those shitty Seven Eleven phones after Momma an' Daddy turned the service off on the one they got me." She pulls it out, one of the typically clunky black plastic convenience store burners, of the cheapest grade, and fumbles with it for a moment. "Okay, go ahead," she says, now that she's ready to add Gwen to her contacts.
Gwen recites her number, while she's busy doing the same thing; her handbag isn't nearly so ritzy as Rebecca's, but it does the trick. Her phone, however, is practically the Rolls Royce of electronic devices, and is definitely the up to date model for this year. "Call me any time, if it's an emergency I don't mind getting woken up." She taps away at her screen for a bit, and nods her head, "And your number, if you don't mind me adding you, too?"
After saving Gwen's number, Becca pulls up her own on the little screen and read it off. After giving Gwen a second to finish saving it, she says, "Thank you. Y'know, back home, everyone thinks you people up here are all rude an' nasty and shit, but I gotta say that's not so, from what I seen so far, an' people I've met. I mean, sure, some people are like that, but not like they weren't where I come from, too. Mostly, people're just, well, people. Most're pretty decent."
Gwen just shrugs. "People in New York are just like anywhere else, I imagine," she agrees. "Some are nice, some are rude, some are polite and generous, and some aren't worth the air they're breathing. There *are* a few who give New York the reputation it has, though." She chuckles softly, tucking her phone away again. "I mean, there's lots of people who think that everyone in Texas is a gun-toting bible thumper, but when my Dad and I went down there for a holiday a couple summers, that was patently not true, so."
"We do got plenty a those, though," Becca says, not sounding particulary happy about that fact. "Somethin' you don't get as much of up here."
Gwen shrugs her shoulders. "We do get them, though," she replies. "I've met a few. I've *definitely* had to defend myself on being good at something I said I was good at, just 'cause I'm a girl." She purses her lips, and then just shakes her head. "Let's not dwell on that though, yes?"
"Yeah," Becca says, nodding. "'Nough o'that. So what should we talk about instead? Maybe… What does a pretty blonde girl who isn't from outta town and still tryin' to figure things out do for fun? Y'know, someone like you?"
Gwen blushes, and lifts her glass, as much to hide behind it briefly as to take a drink. "Well, uhm, you're asking the not-popular girl that question," she points out. "Honestly, I spend a lot of time on my own, watching B movies or blasting out the best beat I can on my drums." She pauses, "Well… I'm in a band, actually, which believe me is a very big step. We might even get to play in a bar at some point." She smirks, "Sometimes I get into mischief, but nothing too hairy. My Dad's a cop, I guarantee you he'd catch me."
"I was just 'bout t'ask how someone looks like you wouldn't be popular, but I guess havin' a cop daddy could put a crimp in things," Becca says. "But you're in a band? That's awesome! I'd love t'do somethin' like that. Been to Open Mic a couple times at this place in M.T. an' people seemed t'like it, but…" She shrugs.
"Eh… I'm not unpopular, per se, but let's just say I was never in the running for prom queen, either." Gwen shrugs. "My Dad's a great guy, he's just… always pretty absorned with his work, y'know? I guess that comes with being a cop. Criminals don't go home and grab a beer out of the fridge at five o'clock." She arches and eyebrow upwards, thinking for a moment. "Well, can you sing? If you can do that, come by my friend's place next week, we need a new singer and we're having try-outs."
Becca smiles, almost luminously. "I sing. People say I'm good at it. Pretty decent on guitar, too." She seems to be a little taller than she was a moment ago. Maybe she's standing up straighter? Maybe the champagne is starting to wear off?
Gwen grins, "Guitarist too, hunh? Well, you'll be a strong contender then. Anyone who can double up roles is pretty essential for a small band." She shrugs her shoulders lightly, "Me, I can guitar in a pinch, and I mean a *real* pinch — like we're playing for a pre-schooler's birthday and no other guitarist could make it — and I could sing, but you wouldn't want me to unless you're trying to break a wineglass. …I mean, by throwing it at me, so I'll stop singing." She pulls her phone back out, and taps out a quick text, to send Rebecca the time and address.
Checking her own phone to be sure she got the message, Becca says, "I'll be there. Still learnin' my way 'round town, but I'll manage." Among the downsides of having the service cut off on her smartphone being, of course, no Google Maps on a convenience-store junk phone.
Gwen bobs her head, "Well, I'd offer you a ride, but I have neither a car nor a driver's license, and to be perfectly honest I'm keeping it that way." She tucks her phone away again, and shrugs lightly. "The buses do pretty well, or you can ride a bike pretty much any time of year. Just watch out for taxis, they like to open the doors and not care who's about to get clobbered." She uhms, trying to remember that other thing, and obviously so. "Oh! And, you can always ask the guys at food stands or news stands for directions."
Nodding, Becca says, "I miss bein' able to use my phone for that, but I do have my computer. Can look it up if I go someplace I can get on wi-fi. Just have to remember the way or write it down." She shrugs, and then asks, "So who else do you have already, besides you on drums?"
Gwen shrugs, "Any coffee shop should do," she offers. "Anyway, besides me there's Gloria on guitar and Betty on base guitar. They pretty much rock out together, they're really well synced up with each other." She thinks a moment, brow furrowed, "We're all pretty much on the same page, but the two of them especially just seem to know what the other is gonna do."
"Oooh, I love it when it gets like that," Becca replies, nodding and smiling. "When you're playin' with someone and it just works somehow and you're not sure how but y'just go with it. Y'just know where they're goin', or the other way 'round, and it's a crazy rush. Best fun I've ever had with my clothes on, y'know?"
The blond girl chuckles, "Well, that's fair," she replies. "We didn't always manage it. Our previous singer was pretty disruptive…" She hmmms, "Maybe that's not the right word, but she definitely wanted everything done her way, and only her way, and that just didn't work for the three of us. So… that'd be why we're looking for a new singer, really. Sorta gave her the boot."
"Well I can promise you now you won't get any crap like that from me," Becca says. "Gotta work together t'make it good. An' I'd be the new girl joining your thing you've already got. No place there to be all full o' myself."
Gwen chuckles, "Well, we actually are precisely aiming to be full of ourselves. Just, full of ourselves together, and not one of us at the expense of the other three." She shrugs, and puts her drink to her lips to drain it. "I'd better go find myself a bus to get outta here, though. The downer of youd Dad being a cop, you can't stay out too late or he starts sending search parties. …Literally."
Laughing and nodding, Becca says, "I can imagine. Glad to've met you, though, and lookin' forward to seein' how things might work with you and your friends and me. Came here 'spectin' to get some free food an' enjoy the party an' maybe hook up with someone, but not like this." She laughs, smiling. "Get on home, an' I'll see y'all at the tryout. Might be the start o'somethin'. Here's hoping."