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| "I want your revenge..." |
Inside the bar are three different set pieces. To the far left, there is a small elevated stage with a microphone stand. A jukebox and a box at least three feet tall overflowing with various props and paraphernalia for open mic nights lay just to the left of them. On the opposite side, the three large signs hanging above the well-stocked bar make a big first impression on Emilia. Between the one declaring that women drink at deep discount prices and the other two listing daily specials with a peculiar theme (Maneater Mojito, Manicure Margarita, etc.), she knows she’d found the solace she craved. The doors to the restrooms are situated in the middle. A pair of angel wings are painted above the ladies’ room. Meanwhile, on the men’s side, a dartboard hangs just below the lettering.
The six stools at the bar are empty, but she isn’t alone. Wearing a black dress ornate with fringe crisscrossing from her collarbone to her hips, Vanessa is keeping busy behind the counter. She selects one of the tequila bottles off the top shelf and throws it behind her. Quickly, she reaches behind her back with her left hand and grabs it. Emilia gasps, holding her heart, and exhales with relief. With a wink, Vanessa throws the bottle up again. It makes two revolutions before landing upside down in her grasp. She loads one generous pour into a shaker and slides it to the opposite end of the counter. Next, she grabs the triple sec, having it perform a cartwheel behind her back, before pouring half the amount into the shaker. Finally, she removes a bottle of lime juice from the mini fridge under the bar. On the beat, she shakes it three times into the shaker and stows it back underneath. Vanessa emerges with three margarita glasses and places them in a pyramid formation. After shaking the cocktail shaker furiously for 10 seconds, she pours its contents into the top glass and the overflow fills the two beneath it. Gingerly, Vanessa removes the top glass and slides it over to Emilia. She takes a quick sip from one of the remaining glasses before vaulting over the counter onto the main floor.
Vanessa sashays her hips side to side, the fringe swaying at twice the speed, as she comes forward. Planting her feet, she snaps her fingers three times, each snap occurring at a different coordinate as she draws a giant Z across her body with her hand. Keeping one eye on Vanessa, marveling at her every move, Emilia reaches to sample her drink. She coughs, the drink a little too potent for her palette, and slides it away. Vanessa offers a sympathetic shrug but continues about her business.
The next stage is curiouser than the last. Vanessa reaches behind the counter and comes out with six darts, a thumbtack and a piece of paper riddled with pinholes. She attaches the paper, featuring a picture of a young man with dark hair, thick eyebrows, a big smile over a goatee and his arms crossed over his chest, to the center of the dartboard. Emilia attempts another sip, almost choking with surprise when Vanessa throws her darts. The first lands in the guy’s forehead, followed by one in each arm. In quick succession, she throws the remaining three below the belt in close proximity. Mouthing ‘wow,’ Emilia takes a gulp and clears her throat to force the margarita down. She grins in spite of herself.
Vanessa disappears into the ladies’ room, returning a short moment later pulling a massive clothes rack behind her. Emilia cranes her neck for a better look; her eyes expand with astonishment. Negligees, corsets and every article of lingerie under the sun in a multitude of colors occupy every hanger. Choosing one at random, Vanessa hangs one of the articles over her front and shows it off like a model on a catwalk. She turns back around and does the same with a second. The number closes with another dance break, but with added conviction. Her sultry samba walks meld perfectly with the quickness of her cha-cha laden footwork.
Emilia reaches into her wallet and pulls out a few bills but Vanessa waves it away. “That’s not necessary. The drinks are on me tonight.” She grabs a rag from the bucket under the counter and cleans off the surface.
“Thanks. Nice place you got here.” Emilia gazes around the room to take in the decor. The picture pinned to the dartboard has long rips running down the length of it from the excessive abuse.
“Oh no, it’s not mine. I’m just looking after it for a friend while she’s out of town.” She wrings out the rag and throws it over her shoulder into the sink. “So what’s your story?”
“There isn’t much of one to tell.” Emilia cups her glass with both hands.
“Please,” Vanessa rolls her eyes with a playful smile, “you reek of lighter fluid. There’s gotta be a story to go with it… it’s at your discretion of course. That’s the rule of thumb around here.”
Emilia chokes down another sip and pushes her glass to the side. Folding her hands while leaning her elbows over the edge of the counter, she explains, “I dropped out of school and ran away with my boyfriend. He promised he’d take care of me so I’d never have to work a day in my life. I found today that the jerk was cheating on me!” She passes the back of her hand across her eyes but her anger bubbles over like lava. “With MY best friend. We were engaged. Then the wedding invitations we ordered came today and it had her name on them. Everything I had saved from our time together, it’s nothing but ashes now. All that’s left behind is the ring.” She reaches over for another healthy gulp and shoves the glass further away from herself.
“Whoa, hang on, you set your whole house on fire over this loser?”
“What? No, it’s all in a trash can down the alley from here.”
“Ok, good.” Vanessa pats her chest to steady her accelerated heartbeat. “I was about to say I wish I was that badass when I left my disaster of a relationship behind.”
For a brief moment, Vanessa disappears into the ladies’ room and comes out with an 18x24 cork board. The top of it read ‘wall of shame’. “If you have a picture of the bastard in your wallet, you can add it here.”
“What is all this?” Emilia marvels.
“It’s become a growing tradition around here. All the women who come through here with a story of heartache and betrayal contribute to the wall.”
“So what’s the story behind yours?” Emilia asks as she pins a picture of the two of them next to the man from the dartboard.
“Let me show you.” Vanessa takes the rag she threw in the sink and wipes the makeup off the right side of her face. The area below her right eye still has remnants of black and blue from a shiner. Emilia covers her mouth to stifle a gasp.
Vanessa shrugs and lays the cork board on the bar in one fluid motion. “And that little fashion show catwalk I was doing… that’s how he always got me to take him back. Gift me the frilliest lacy lingerie and bam! I’m back in his bed like the whole thing never happened. But the next time he doesn’t come home to a clean house with dinner already made for him, or worse, he gets jealous when he catches me talking to another guy, it happens all over again.”
“If it’s over, why are you still holding onto all that?” Emilia asks as Vanessa crosses the room to put the cork board back in its proper place.
“Lingerie with this quality? It’d be a crime to throw away but I see your point.” After going into the ladies’ room and coming back out empty handed, she adds, “After my friend convinced me to leave his sorry ass, I swore I’d never be anyone’s Cinderella again.”
“Amen to that!” Emilia runs over to the microphone on the other side of the room and declares, “this next song goes out to our exes…”
Vanessa finishes her sentence, raising her glass up high, “Without whom, neither of us would be here together tonight.”
Emilia searches the jukebox for the perfect song. Meanwhile, Vanessa dives into the box of props for the perfect accompaniment. She emerges with a bandanna tied around her head and an old broom missing several of its bristles. Peeking over, Emilia’s jaw drops. “There’s so much in there.”
“Yeah, another part of the tradition here. For anyone who’s interested, we have everything they need to roast their exes.” Emilia digs her own bandanna out of the box and ties it up tight. “Ok, I’m ready whenever you are.”
Emilia takes the mic and Vanessa takes the floor for the first verse. She diligently sweeps the dirt in front of her, wiping the sweat off her brow. But as the narrative of the song shifts away from being an agreeable lover, Vanessa spins the broom with the same dexterity she demonstrated earlier with the liquor bottles. The broom soon drops to the floor and Vanessa shifts her rapid-fire footwork directly on top of it. Observing this, a grin creeps across Emilia’s face as the perfect idea for her own solo materializes.
The girls cross paths, exchanging a high five before switching places. Holding onto the ends of her bandanna with both hands, Emilia feigns innocence and forgiveness with a doe-eyed gaze. It isn’t long before she throws her headwear to the ground and stomps on it. Jumping over the broom, she tap dances vigorously like she’s celebrating over someone’s grave. Vanessa steps away from the microphone, clapping and cheering her on.
For the big finish, Emilia and Vanessa come to the center of floor together. They synchronize their steps, first with cha-cha, followed by tap and jive. They complement one other like partners who’d known each other for years. But slowly, the euphoria wears off and Emilia runs back to the bar. Leaning over the side, her tight grasp bleaches her knuckles and she gasps to catch her breath. Vanessa shuts off the music and rushes over to comfort her.
“What’s wrong?” She rubs her back.
Between sobs, Emilia says, “this is the most fun I’ve had in ages. But sooner or later, I have to face reality. I burned all my bridges and I have nowhere to go. I barely have enough money for a month’s worth of rent.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.”
“If my parents find out what happened, I’ll never hear the end of it. They told me going with him was a mistake.” She wipes her eyes and spins back around. “I used to be their perfect little girl. Now I’m just a big joke.”
“Excuse me, but that’s bullshit...” Slowly, billows of white smoke seep from under the bathroom doors. A guitar revs somewhere in the background. Wearing a chained leather jacket and thigh high boots on skinny six-inch heels, Amber shoves her way through the door on the men’s side.
***
Music:
"Bad Romance" and "Judas" by Lady Gaga
"Bad Romance" and "Judas" by Lady Gaga
...originally, I meant for this show to completely revolve around Gaga's "Born this Way" album. But things evolve over time as they tend to do.
These two songs always felt kinda similar to me in terms of structure so I thought it'd be cool to put them together. Plus, "Judas" is my favorite off the album so I was hoping to integrate it in this somewhere.
These two songs always felt kinda similar to me in terms of structure so I thought it'd be cool to put them together. Plus, "Judas" is my favorite off the album so I was hoping to integrate it in this somewhere.
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