LA’s streets flourished on Thursday night. Cars parked in red zones and meters buzzed for their maids to handle business. Jessie escorted his gorgeous colleague, Rachel inside a popular establishment. Vault’s Nightlife Club, entranced them with exotic displays of lighting and heavy bass.

 “Whoa, can someone turn the lights down!?” Jessie asked one of the passing waitresses.

            “Oh! Why yes we can Mr. Anderson. I’m so sorry. We forgo- “

            “It doesn’t matter, just do it.” He replied.

The lights lost their rainbow coloring and went into a less distracting tone. Jessie’s oxfords clacked on the marbled floor as he walked to his special table.

            “This is what you’ve been exited for? A table?” Rachel asked while he pulled her chair out for her to sit down.

            “Well, yeah. I’ve deserved these seats for years. Nobody works as hard as we do.”

The club’s music drew in more people. Everyone waved at familiar faces and fingers pointed at Jessie and Rachel’s table.

            Jessie waved a waitress over, “Can we get a few drinks please and thank you.”

            “What would you like sir?” the waitress asked

            “You can give Rachel two Manhattans and I’ll take a Martinez.”

            Rachel’s eyes widened, “You’re driving?”

            “You deserve to get a little loose. You’ve done some amazing things for me and the agency.” Jessie shoed the waitress off with their order. His eyes fell onto two foreign women on the dance floor.

            “I’m going to look for some potential clients while we wait for our drinks” he softly declared.

            “No, you don’t. Leave those girls to their dreams. Keep business, strictly business Jessie” Rachel cut both eyes at him like shards.

A light chuckle caused him to remove his wool suit jacket and lay it on his chair.

            “I don’t remember you being so jealous back at FIT. I guess your boy is every woman’s dream.”

The waitress arrived with their drinks.

            “Thanks, you can go now.” Jessie ordered the club’s employee.

The waitress’s eyes stared at him with aggravation.

            “I’m so sorry,” Rachel interrupted. “Can you please leave us for a moment. You see, he hasn’t gotten any sleep and you know how cranky we women can get with no sleep.”

            “No problem. Let me know if “YOU” need anything.”

Rachel reached over and clenched Jessie’s hand before he said anything rash. After, the waitress walked away Jessie’s mood became sour.

“Who the heck does she think she is anyway? An ugly girl like her should be happy to be in my presence.” His cufflinks began to scratch the table with his continuous fidgeting. He took his hand and brushed his hair to one side, a strand was out of place. He looked at Rachel and noticed that her dress kept coming up to her butt.

            “Those dresses only press the stereotype that models can’t keep their clothes on”.

She shot him another crude gaze.

            “Its not my fault midis don’t give room for my thick thighs to move. If you had hips you would understand.”

            Jessie took a sip of his drink, “What I don’t understand is how you could let her talk to me like that and not say anything, Rach”. 


The guests within the club overheard Jessie’s voice. One of the bouncers prepared to walk to the table but a man wearing a nicely fitted suit gave him a gesture to leave him be.


            “What do you mean, let her talk to you like that? You were the one being a prick” Rachel replied. She tugged on her dress, trying to keep it from rubbing against her olive thighs. A few swings of her first drink gave her a little “confidence” to not care entirely about it.

            Jessie drew closer to the circular table. “What you aren’t getting is that I don’t think you appreciate everything that I do for you. I’m the one who got you the interview with complex! I’m the one who spent time getting you the headshots for Vanity! I’m the one who got you the deal with Victoria’s Secret’s executives to put you on the cover of next month’s issue!”

            Rachel’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. She brushed brunet bangs from out of her face as she fixed herself while sitting.

“What is wrong with you?  You’ve changed over the past months. The women you’ve been sleeping with have screwed your brain cells out of your head. You were never this shallow or inconsiderate of my feelings, Jessie. And here you are, taking credit for someone else’s hard work.”

            Jessie titled his head and asked, “What?”, while admiring her forever reaching hair that seemed to go on for days on end.

            “Everything we have is because of Rachel Delilah Flowers, Professional Runway & Centerfold Model. I put my body and life on the line for everyone at the agency, especially you. We’ve been together since we were five years old, Jessie. Five years old, Jessie!! Doesn’t that hold any purpose?”

Jessie felt the eyes of everyone in Vault on them. He began to lose comfort on his throne.

            He urgently removed himself from his chair and grabbed his jacket, throwing it across his right shoulder.

            Rachel’s tears caused her light makeup to run. “You aren’t going to say anything? Anything at all?”

Jessie couldn’t hold in his anger any longer. “What do you want me to say!? I need you? Well I don’t! I can find another client anywhere in Beverly Hills, Baldwin Hills, Oceanside, or even South Central. I run this!” Jessie’s hands flared up as he finished his speech. Behind him, delivering glasses of drinks with fire dancing above them, was the waitress he treated unfairly. She received an order of 2 Blue Blazer Cocktails. Jessie mistakenly knocked one on Rachel’s dress.

            “AAAAHHH!!” Rachel’s screams were heard throughout the club.

Jessie quickly sprung to her aid. Beating the mild flame into submission.

            “I’m so sorry Rachel. I’m so sorry.”


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  • I'm still working on it but feedback would be great.
  • Nice work, Pierre. 

    So what's going to happen with this page of dialogue? Is it a sampler, free-write, part of a larger story? Need feedback or Not?

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