Afterparty (Elle and Jolene)

[JENNA GRAY]

Marcus Borgia's Pride potion ran like fiery ichor through her veins. And this was her fucking night.

”I need the bouncers set up with the guest list in ten minutes, Kevin. That’s ten minutes, not eleven, not twelve, not fifteen, ten, Kevin. Alright? No Kevin, I already told you, I can’t get you any more fucking…one second.” She punched a few keys in her number pad, embracing the tantalizing beep of the “call waiting” feature. Jenna almost never swore out loud, but tonight...tonight called for the swears. It was like a magnet, attracting them somewhere from deep within her.

”Make it snappy, Ben, I’ve got Kevin on the other line. Yes, I told you…no, I don’t fucking know what kinds of wine we’re supplying. What, did you think we just hired the wine supplier to sit around and put up streamers? I need you to…oh, Jesus Christ.” She felt her fucking personal cell phone vibrating against her thigh, and yanked it from her handbag, rolling her eyes and tossing her bangs from her forehead. ”What the hell is going on, Steve, did you make the transactions like I asked you to? No, Steve, another million, that was all that I said. Jesus Christ, Steve, I ask you for a simple favor, and…you know, what, I don’t have the fucking time for this shit.” Gritting her teeth, she directed her attention back to the main phone. ”One sec, Ben.” Her fingers thumbed the keypad again. ”Kevin? Kevin why hasn’t Joe called me yet? I told you, Kevin…”

Jenna’s lips continued to rattle as the New York City streets flashed past the windows of her limousine. Jesus Christ, this was so different. It was as if the potion had cleansed her of everything she’d ever regretted about herself. Her senses felt heightened, enlightened, the usual blurs and hums that made up her sensory perception paired off into clear and beautiful sub-categories that suddenly made sense in Jenna’s mind. No longer was her mind a jumble of ambivalent conflict. No longer did she feel the pressing longing to hide the lumps on her chest, to veil her luscious lips and teasingly curled eyelashes from the world: no longer did she feel encased, like a prisoner in this coffin arbitrarily imposed upon herself.

And Jay…Jay was gone. She was no longer ze, she was no longer Jay. She was Jenna, Jenna Gray. And Jenna Gray needed no one. Kevin, Ben, Steve, Joe, not a single one of these stupid helpless men was in any way relevant to her life, her needs. Jenna had never felt so independent, so free, and so alive.

She felt the limousine pull to a stop in front of the club and slid purposefully out, glaring back at the limousine driver as if demanding to know what on Earth he was still doing here. ”Out of my way,” she asserted to the doorman, shoving him aside with strength she’d never know she possessed, pulling the door open and strolling briskly in.

”What’s going on here? The Masquerade ends at midnight, and we’ll start getting some fucking customers at least fifteen minutes after. What is this, naptime? Let’s get set up, everyone, come on!” Her voice jumped an octave at the end, resonating with an authority she’d never heard in herself before. She’d never felt so comfortable with herself. This was absolutely marvelous. This Marcus man deserved a Nobel Prize, and Jenna resolved there and then to exercise every ounce of political power she could to ensure that such a prize reached him.

”But Ms. Gray…” A young man with a broom raised a hand.

Jenna clenched her hands into fists. Were these club employees really so imbecilic? Was she truly the only person in this vicinity who understood the scope of what needed to be accomplished? Was she the only person here who had any vested interest in making this party a success? ”That’s it, everyone listen up!” The clap of her hands echoed through the chamber, her voice shrill and sharp like a drill sergeant’s whistle. ”I need every glass arranged in order of size on the upper left-hand shelf. I need the wine laid out and every single wrinkle gone from the table cloths. And if I see one speck of dust on this floor, I’m going to be quite unhappy. Understood?” Silence. Jesus, was everyone else in the world deaf now too? ”I said, is that fucking understood?”

The hustle and bustle of preparation began again in confused silence. Sighing, Jenna began to move back towards the door. She’d never been more ready for this party to begin.

CLICKEY FOR CLOTHEZ

["ELLE" FAIRCHILD]

I hate the way this turned out but I'm too tired to fix it

Elle didn't understand much about Jenna. She was fighting to -- every time she encountered the mysterious woman, every time she looked at her and admired the way her hair fell and her eyes shone and she remembered how ethereally beautiful her business partner was, she was struggling to comprehend her, as much as she could.

But it wasn't that easy.

Every time she thought she had Jenna worked out, the blonde would throw something else her way and knock Elle off her feet, make her rethink her game plan entirely. It was little things, too -- Jenna tried so hard to keep her composure around Elle, it was the slip-ups that were important. Little things that she noticed. Those were relevant. Through them, she could make deductions about Jenna's character, going from the specific to the general.

But Jenna gave her such mixed signals...

She sighed, running her gloved fingers through her short, dark auburn hair as she approached the 40/40 Club. She had been invited here, by Jenna herself, for a masquerade afterparty; she wasn't sure what Jenna was playing at there, whether they were supposed to be friends now or whether this was some way of checking up on her or what. Elle wanted, sorely, to be friends with Jenna. She wanted to be more than friends with Jenna.

But that wasn't important. They had a...businessy relationship. More or less. Right?

Well, that wasn't...she couldn't focus on that right now. She'd gotten changed for this party, so, by her own standards, that meant she had to go, though she was conscious she would probably know no-one there save Jenna. In the end, she would probably go home long before the club closed -- but that was to be expected. She often left parties early.

She got out of her cab and straightened the hem of her little black dress self-consciously. Her attire was simple, as usual -- Elle wasn't a fan of elaborate patterns or colors or accessories -- but she didn't look, nor did she feel, underdressed. It was an afterparty, after all. She could dress however she wanted. Well... What was even the dress code for afterparties?

Whatever.

Sighing and shifting her bag on her shoulder, she stepped quietly inside the doors of the club, just in time to hear Jenna barking orders at her employees.

What--?

Okay, so maybe Jenna had always been a little cryptic, but this was something entirely different. Elle had never seen Jenna be so...well, rude. To anyone. Ever. She hadn't thought the woman was capable.

Apparently, she had been wrong.

She felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach and reminded herself that there was always a catch. Then she took a step forward, speaking cautiously. "Jenna?"

[JOLENE MILLER]

So far, the night had been entirely and completely subpar. When Jolene heard about the city wide fundraiser for the Make a Wish Foundation she had figured it would be the perfect PR event and would even be a little fun. Who could disagree with going to a charity event? The press would eat it up. "Rising Star Jolene Miller Shells Out the Big Bucks for Cancerous Children." She could see the headline already.

She'd figured it would be swarmed with other private investors and celebrities and big names in the city. She had gotten all dolled up to look her best in a ravishing Hollywood elite dress and brilliant golden accents to make sure she stood out from the crowd. She had gone ALL OUT to make sure she was memorable, and what was her reward? She was the bell of the ball amongst an assortment of snot nosed brats and drunk assholes that thought they were hot shit. It was an enormous disappointment. She'd had to drink the whole evening just to keep herself occupied.

The one single silver lining for the evening was the fact that she now had a personal invite to Jenna's fancy ass club for the after party. Despite what Jolene thought about her bloated whale of a cousin, she had to admit that the dumb cow knew how to throw a killer party with a guest list any paparazzo would salivate at the sight of. Hell, Jolene had left the dismal social scene at the masquerade ball just to make sure she was one of the first ones in the door, though it also might have had something to do with the fact that the bartender had threatened to cut her off, after all that Jolene had done for him! After the bond they'd shared! It was the epitome of rude and Jolene couldn't just stay there after being disgraced in such a way.

She had a perfect game plan all worked out. She would be the first one in but she wouldn't bother changing. She'd leave the mask on and make sure to set herself up alluringly at the bar. Make sure to have a leg sticking out to invite any particularly interested men over for a conversation and a drink. It would be divine and Jolene might be able to score herself a man for the evening. That would be just perfect. She could set herself up with one of Jenna's precious guests and dangle him right in front of her face. The sleezeball didn't know how to command her own staff, she certainly wouldn't risk the PR factor to tell Jolene to knock it off.

That was the difference between Jenna and Jolene, and that was going to be the difference between Jenna ending up in the gutter and Jolene ending up in a beautiful penthouse of her own some day. Jenna was worried about her image and her persona and her friends. Jolene knew that anything and everything could be fixed. Jolene wasn't afraid to risk it all to go after the biggest wins. Jolene knew that it was better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission. While Jenna awkwardly ho-hummed her way around the issue or locked herself away to brood, Jolene was more than happy to show it all off.

After slurring an explanation to Jenna's driver and telling him to put it on her sweet cousin's tab, Jolene made her way into the club, fighting the urge to vomit quietly on the sidewalk before making her way inside.

God. This didn't look like it was all that much either. Jolene's slightly hazy vision took in the scene before her and quickly decided that she did NOT like what she saw. Instead of the landed aristocracy that she had expected, she got tons of workers and Jenna, along with some chick who Jolene thought she might have seen somewhere before but couldn't quite remember.

With one bicep-length leather glove removed and draped over her shoulder and her golden mask shoved up on top of her head, Jolene stumbled into the club, leaning against a wall momentarily as she barked out a loud and harshly annunciated, "Jeeze, some party cuz." She paused to hiccup slightly before continuing, "Will the rest of the crowd be arriving any time soon or am I expected to socialize with this cooze for the remainder of my evening?" She laughed in what some might consider a derisively hysterical manner as she jerked a thumb and made a disgusted face at the filthy skank staring at Jenna. Christ, where did she find these people?
Outfit