Topic: i could use someone like you, baxter (Read 37 times)
Azariah Lexington The Lexington Family The Self-Made Outcast}}Respect{5000} Influence{1946} Talent{486} Strength{405} Health{648} Experience{324} Wallet{8910} member is offline
Joined: Jun 2009 Gender: Male Posts: 28 Location: [A:3] Karma: 0
i could use someone like you, baxter « Thread Started on Jun 20, 2009, 7:58pm »
Azariah Lexington has business to tend to. But he can’t do it alone because it involves a great deal of negotiating, which he isn’t always good at. And this is why he wakes up particularly early - much too early for his liking - and heads to the hotel. Now, he wouldn’t generally turn up at the hotel but today is a very important day and he’s not going to waste the better half of the morning ringing Baxter’s phone, which would more than likely go unanswered anyway. So, this is why he gets out of a cab in front of the grandiose hotel and struts into the lobby like he owns the place. And it’s not such a far-fetched idea really, his family has enough money that they could take the place off the old man’s back. It’s not like he’s going to live much longer anyway. This is what Az is thinking about as he crosses the marbled lobby to the front desk, where the receptionist is looking above-average bored. And Az, oh, he flashes her a charming, crooked sort of boyish grin as he approaches. “Beautiful day,” he says on a sigh as he leans on the mahogany podium, dropping his elbow on the marbled counter and resting his head in his open hand, “isn’t it?” He flashes another grin and the girl’s face actually lightens a fraction, which doesn’t surprise Az because he’s just so charming. She nods in response and offers her own grin, which doesn’t impress Az in the least but, boy, how does he pretend it does! She inquires after what it is that he needs help with and he sighs and shakes his head, looking positively ashamed. “You see, I lost my room key,” he says looking sheepish and then shrugs a helpless little shrug while the girl gives him a compassionate look and asks his name. “Baxter Devries,” he lies and she hands over a shiny new room key in a jiffy. “Oh, thank you, my dear, bless you!” He says theatrically and he throws her a wink over his shoulder as he proceeds to the elevator, which takes him straight to Mr. Baxter’s floor and, ultimately, his very room. Az doesn’t hesitate before shoving the plastic key in the door and pushing it open. He follows the hall to the bedroom and barges in. Funny how he doesn’t stop to think that maybe Baxter brought a girl back to the room last night. To be honest, it doesn’t at all matter to Az. He doesn’t check the opposite side of the bed either because, let’s face it, he doesn’t care, before he’s creeping towards the sleeping Bax with a devilish grin. “Wake up, sleeping beauty,” he sings in a high-pitched voice before changing his tune and offering the bed a swift kick before shouting, “get up, princess! We have important shit to take care of!” While he waits for Baxter to rise, he retreats to the living area and collapses on the couch where he lights up a cigarette and flips on the TV. He disregards the many ‘No Smoking’ notices posted around the room and cracks the window to avoid setting off the smoke detectors.
Joined: Jun 2009 Gender: Male Posts: 3 Location: [A:4] Karma: 0
let's do bad things. « Reply #1 on Jun 21, 2009, 12:19am »
Baxter Devries never sleeps alone. He cannot, in fact, remember a night where he had the mattress to himself, but he isn’t complaining. These early morning hours find him sprawled insensibly over most of the monstrous bed that he is sharing with two nameless blonde women. He has no idea who these ladies are, nor does he much care, for he is just that much of a womanizing ass. He also doesn’t care for anything on the other side of his eyelids. He isn’t dreaming, but there is a pleasant darkness that is so rudely disturbed by senseless loud words and a nasty disturbance reverberating through the bed and his own body.
”Fuck off!” Baxter snarls, cracking one eye and glaring balefully at Azariah. As far as he’s concerned, friendship is negated at this hour, and he is not at all amused by such a rude awakening. It’s a sign of Baxter’s great affection for Az that, despite the fact that he would gladly have murdered the man in this moment, he rolls onto his side and sits up. He scrubs his face vigorously with his hands and both feels and hears the rasp of a few days’ scruff on his face.
He stands in a lithe rush, naked as a jay bird and pulls the scant bed-clothes with him as he moves to the master bathroom. ”You need to leave,” his voice is rough with disuse and cold, and he regards the two women blinking sleepily at him from the bed dispassionately. ”Don’t be here when I get out of the shower,” he says with equal coolness, and he turns to enter the bathroom without so much as a backwards glance at the two who had provided his entertainment last night and, as far as he was concerned, overstayed their welcome.
Baxter showers, shaves and changes at a leisurely pace, more to annoy Az than out of necessity and emerges from the master bedroom looking just as baleful as he had upon first waking. ”Jesus fucking Christ, Az. It’s too god damn early for this shit.” He doesn’t bother consult the silent clock hanging on the wall, but regards Azariah with an irritated eye.
He wanders into the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee and spikes it liberally with whiskey. He couldn’t be expected to function with any level of cognizance without a little bit of liquor. He sips the spiked coffee with gusto, and enjoys the scorch and scald of it as it burns a line down to his stomach.
Feeling slightly more alert, he heads into the living room and considers his friend for a moment. He is entirely unconcerned by the cigarette smoke curling about the room, and is instead inspired to riffle though his pants pocket for the pack of his own smokes. He lights in and inhales greedily, bliss rolling out from his chest and neutralizing his cantankerous mood a little more.
”Now what’s so god damn important that it couldn’t wait until a more decent hour?”
Azariah Lexington The Lexington Family The Self-Made Outcast}}Respect{5000} Influence{1946} Talent{486} Strength{405} Health{648} Experience{324} Wallet{8910} member is offline
Joined: Jun 2009 Gender: Male Posts: 28 Location: [A:3] Karma: 0
i can't stop this crawling out of my skin « Reply #2 on Jun 21, 2009, 5:12pm »
Az is undisturbed by Bax’s less than warm response because, well, he’s used to it by now. Baxter was never the kindest person, not to poor Az anyway. It was always that Viona that he saved all of his niceness for, showering her with gifts and love - so much so that Az never got any of it. Not that he really ever expected much love from Baxter, but a few gifts here and there might have been nice. Az distinctly remembers buying Bax a nice pair of very expensive cuff links for Christmas last year but he can’t really remember if Bax returned the gesture. Naturally, Az assumes that he didn’t because he needs something more to dangle over his partner in crime’s head. He already has blackmail (how many pictures did Az take of Baxter following Viona around like a lost puppy, you ask? Too many for Bax to ever be entirely safe) but that’s never enough for the second-eldest Lexington.
While he waits, the two blondes file out of the room and into the kitchen to fix themselves coffee. Az watches them appreciatively with a crooked smirk while they go through the motions and winks when at the first as she glances over her shoulder at him. “Morning, ladies,” he coos smoothly. But they roll their eyes and huff in a way that strikes Az as very juvenile. So he just goes on grinning at them and puffing on his cigarette until, at long last, they retreat to the bedroom to clothe themselves. On their way out, Az offers them a wave, which they rather rudely disregard.
Not long after, Baxter materializes from the shadowed hall and Az throws him an award-winning grin, a grin as bright as Bax’s glower is dark. Az takes a peak at his watch - 8:45. But he doesn’t mention this. As a matter of fact, he’s silent while the grumbling grouch goes to the kitchen to make himself coffee. Az realizes he hasn’t had any - he’s not really one for drinking his energy, if you know what I mean. It seems to him like he might be the only person on the planet who’s not a slave to caffeine. What’s so goddamn important, Bax asks! And Az is just so delighted to tell him that he leaps up from the couch with a greedy, mischievous grin. “Oh, I’m so glad you asked!” he says with much too much enthusiasm, “I need your negotiation skills because they’re much better than mine. So, really… you should be flattered.” He tells his wingman with an arched brow. “I’ve got a bunch of hot-headed thugs trying to buy up my shit and I know they’re going to try to lowball me because, well, that’s what they do!”
He collects his cigarettes and shoves them deep inside the inside pocket of his blazer and checks the pistol tucked in the waistband of his jeans. Without further ado, he heads for the door. “By the way, it’s a perfectly reasonable hour,” he says over his shoulder.
Joined: Jun 2009 Gender: Male Posts: 3 Location: [A:4] Karma: 0
let's do bad things. « Reply #3 on Jun 22, 2009, 2:19pm »
Baxter’s eyebrows arch up over his face, creating an almost amusing expression of disbelief. As had already been expressed, Baxter’s waking charm left quite a bit to be desired. The skills to which Az seemed to be referring currently had nothing but two extremes; avoidance and slaughter. Baxter’s wingman was precariously close to the violent end of that spectrum, but he is likely the safest anyone could be from physical aggression.
He takes another swig of his coffee and eyes Az over the rim of the mug. ”You hauled me out of bed for a buy?” he asks slowly. Though it sounds like there ought to be, there is no heat to his words. The liquor sparkling in his blood has mellowed out his aggressive tendencies, and though there might be a passing desire to beat Azariah to a pulp, it was just that; passing.
With a small frown of distaste, Baxter drinks again and shakes his head once. ”Flattered, is it?” he mutters once before turning and entering the kitchen again. He flicks his ash casually into the sink and then returns the burning stick to his mouth. His lips cradle his cigarette as he dumps the remnants of his whiskeyed coffee down the drain. His brain was alert enough at this point and there was no need to rush the fun. Besides, a gun-slinging drug deal is usually a good time to have one’s wits.
With purposeful steps, Baxter returns to the master bedroom. He makes short order of the lower-back holster deposited near the closet some time ago, fitting it securely behind his right elbow for an easy left-handed draw. Baxter might be a rich playboy bent on nothing but hedonistic pursuits, but he surely isn’t stupid, and showing up to a buy unprotected was about as stupid as stupid can get.
He pauses at the entrance of the walk-in, critically eying the contents therein. He decides on a delectable, coal black Armani jacket and takes a small moment to enjoy the pleasant feel of the almost weightless material over the silk of his button down. Life is about enjoying the small things in life, as well as the big things, and the swish of many thousands of dollars settling into place around one’s body is one of them, especially when those thousands of dollars pay not only for a fantastic suit, but also for clever stitching to hide the presence of a holster and semi-automatic pistol.
He strides back into the living room and pauses momentarily to retrieve said handgun, and he slips it into the holster with gusto. ”You only say that,” he drawls smoothly, ”because you weren’t the one pulled out of bed, and out of the company of two ladies.” Once again, there is no heat to his words, and both men know that Baxter is only grumbling to keep up a front. Those women had only been desirable so long as they hadn’t given into him, and, it goes without saying, they had given into him.
”I’d better be getting breakfast out of this deal, Az,” he says simply, but honestly, as he opens the door and waits for his wingman. Sucking in one last drag, he pulls the cigarette back from his lips and crushes it into a nearby potted plant—he didn’t care. One eyebrow quirks as Az walks past, ”And I’ll take that key back from you. I don’t like the idea of you sneaking in whenever you like.” His lips now cradle a smirk and as the door swings closed behind them, he motions forward with one hand, ”Lead the way, mon capitan.”
Azariah Lexington The Lexington Family The Self-Made Outcast}}Respect{5000} Influence{1946} Talent{486} Strength{405} Health{648} Experience{324} Wallet{8910} member is offline
Joined: Jun 2009 Gender: Male Posts: 28 Location: [A:3] Karma: 0
everything was moving so fast « Reply #4 on Jun 22, 2009, 5:38pm »
To be honest, Az is not at all surprised by Bax’s disdain. This is not the first time he’s dragged sleeping beauty out of bed in the wee, wee hours of the morning! This is not nearly as bad as a handful of times in the past. The two actually came to blows one day because Baxter is so grumpy when you wake him up before he’s ready to wake up. Besides, Az has dragged him out of bed for far less. He vividly remembers one time in particular, when he was having trouble sleeping because he could see his couch in the living room from where he lay on his bed. To say he’d been half-wasted would be an understatement and far too kind! So, he’d marched his happy ass straight to Baxter’s and tried, unsuccessfully, to convince him to help move the couch.
His bitter remark about being pulled out of bed has Az grinning and he sighs, reclining his head so that he can rest it against the back of the couch comfortably. “Yeah, you looked really interested in those two ladies while you were sleeping, Bax,” Az counters, “I might have left you alone if you’d been, yaknow, actively interested,” he says with a wink. Az has a bad habit of winking. Well, it’s not bad really, it’s just that some people - like Bax or men in general - might not appreciate it. The ladies love it, though, which is probably why he even started doing it in the first place.
But he rises soon after and follows Bax to the door. Breakfast? Really? Az gives him a ‘really?’ look which consists of a furrow between arched brows. “Breakfast?” he echoes, his tone slightly disbelieving, “really? That’s really all it takes to buy your help? Your services are cheaper than I thought! Here I’ve been, buying you extravagant gifts,” he sighs and shakes his head. The key. Az feigns confusion, pausing just inside the door and tilting his head at Bax. “What key?” he asks as innocently as he can. Yeah, like he’s actually going to return the key. No, sorry. Although, if Bax were somehow to convince him to return it, he’d just get another one from the receptionist who’d warmed to him so easily. “Maybe you should drink some more coffee, Bax, you’re not making any sense.”
And he slips out into the hall so he doesn’t have to look him in the eye. And lead the way he does. He leads the way all the way to the car waiting outside. He’d taken a cab to the hotel initially, yes, but he’s not going to pull up to a deal in a cab. Honestly, that would just be foolish. Not to mention, it would make him look poor and he’s not really up for that this early in the morning. He climbs into the car and waits for Bax to do so as well before giving the driver directions.
The sleek black automobile pulls out into morning traffic and speeds towards their destination. The car ride is no more than ten minutes long and Az spends the majority of it making jabs at Bax because this is the only entertainment that’s readily available. But, as soon as the car slows to a stop outside a gutted warehouse, he adopts a more serious demeanor. Before getting out, he pulls the pistol out of the waistband of his jeans and double-checks to make sure that it’s loaded and in working order. He offers a nod to Bax and exit’s the car, moving swiftly around to the trunk, which he taps twice - a signal to the driver to open it. He reaches in to retrieve the black leather briefcase and waits for Bax to join him before heading toward the yawning entrance of the great, sleepy building.
Beneath the smoke and smog of the city, there lies a faint, shimmering light: the old Casa Blanca, more commonly known as Hotel California, a diamond of a place in its own right. Once the glistering hub of young Hollywood, it now stands serenely as a sort of iconic resort, reminding those who pass by of its timeless parties, stories, residents and fame. But there is a dark stain on the Hotel’s history, one that has pervaded through the ages and is just now coming under scrutiny by those who still inhabit its walls, for the mob presence is hard to ignore. With three mafias all pushing drugs and cycling cash under one roof it's only a matter of time before a full fledged mafia war erupts.
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