Tuesday, 3 November 2015

Mood | Shameless

Elle Gardner watched the bouts of cigarette smoke cloud the reflection of herself in the mirror. She killed the sparks of the half smoked Marlboro with her fingers and picked up her Vodka tini. In leather pants and a lace corset, she strutted towards the door of the bathroom, suddenly engulfed in a chaos of loud music. Her eyes half open and disengaged,  her strut a little unbalanced, facial expression unreadable. 

Crossing over to the bar, she decided there were greater evils in the world and she wanted a taste. Her credit cards, cheque book and cash were all sitting on the bedside table of the Ritz Hotel. But what was money in a world where a pretty face was just as powerful a currency? Fuck it. Someone else would fund her habits of self destruction.  

The barman set down a champagne coupe of Mimosa in front of her. 'From him' he said pointing at the guy at the opposite end of the bar. 
Elle looked over blankly before turning back to look at the young barman. 'Scotch on the rocks please. And put it on his tab.' Elle smiled coyly before walking over to her knight in shining Armani.
'Thanks.' she said.
'So what brings a pretty girl like you here?' he asked.

'I'm just here for the free drinks. And in the morning I'll probably wake up and wonder what the fuck was I doing in a 20 somethings bar accepting drinks from old Johns like yourself.' She said grinning this time.

He chuckled. 'Then why do you do this? Why do you come here? I see you every week on the exact same night around the exact same time. You spend no more than an hour and then you leave.' 

'Aren't you supposed to be asking me if I want to dance?' she retorted, a sarcastic tone eminent in her voice. 

But a different answer floated in the midst of her thoughts. She wanted to say that it was a coping mechanism. A way to prove that she was in control of her life. That she could either tear it apart in any given moment or build it up. She toyed with both sides to hold the balance of power. 

But in trying to prove that she was in control, she engaged in activities that controlled her. Elle Gardner lived a life of excruciating irony. 


No comments:

Post a Comment