Date: June 6, 2010
Ivory helps Trina change her mind about some things.
Therapy, Wynn's Office
The middle of an afternoon on a Sunday. It's not anywhere near time for performance, but it's late enough that Trina hasn't any obligations to meet the more experienced girls for the training that she never got during her last time working here.
With Ivory out of the building, that left her to enjoy a bit of privacy in the office that she's called home for the past few days. There was a sink bath, and her hair is still damp from the not-so-glorious experience. Running water, however, is a luxury that she didn't have in her car, so she'll take it over the alternative any day. Throw on one of Ivory's collared shirts, one in a pale blush, and one has a semblance of modesty. Sorta.
Hey, at least she's not naked.
Her pillow and blankets lie in a crumpled heap at one end of the couch she occupies now in a slump, her face buried in her hands and her fingers threaded through her black hair.
She should eat, she thinks to herself. She should. She'll have to work soon. But eating would require going out, when it's so much easier to sit in this office and ponder just what the hell she's doing. Why the hell is she here again?
"Relax, Johnny! Am I doin' you a favor, or am I doin' you a favor? Look, I know you want Cookie. But she's busy that night. So I'm givin' you the best damn two for one you'll ever get."
That would be Ivory, backing into his office and looking about as annoyed as he can possibly look. It must be because of the phone conversation he's having. He spins on his heels, just in time to see Trina and that causes him to smile and give her a wave, before continuing over to his desk, where he drops down the huge bag of Chinese Food he just grabbed from across the street. He freezes in mid-step when the person on the other line decides to drop an insult.
"Whoa! Whoa! Hold up. Did you just threaten to take your hard-earned paychecks over to Sparkle Motion?! That piece of crap club ain't even got a quarter of the talent we've got here! Are you serious?! You know what? Fine. Go on over to Sparkle Motion if you want to. You'll be crawlin' back here so fast, you'll have more rugburns than Monica Lewinksy on her first day!" Ivory slams his finger into the Off Button, tossing the phone down onto the table.
"I brought you food. I figure you might be hungry or something." Shrugging, Ivory slides around to the chair of his desk and falls down into it. "By the way, nice shirt choice, by the way. One of my favorites. It looks good on you." Wink.
Ivory's boisterous arrival causes Trina to straighten up immediately. There's a sharp sniff, a fierce rubbing at her eyes, and then those hands drag down along her legs. There's a poorly feigned smile that she gives back in his direction, and then a tiny wave.
When he keeps talking to the person on the phone, she can't help but to be a little uncomfortable. It gets to the point that she reaches subtly over to the blanket and drags it across her knees to make herself a little more decent. Her eyes lock on those then-covered knees, not daring to look up.
It isn't until he speaks to her that she glances up and pushes another brave half-smile onto her lips. "I… It was clean. I'm sorry. I… I just didn't have a lot of options. One of the girls said she'd throw my stuff in with a load of her laundry, but she said she couldn't get it back 'til tonight." One hand lifts to rub awkwardly at the back of her neck. "You… You didn't have to get me anything. I mean, thank you, but… but you didn't have to."
"Here's a tip. When you have a lack of options, always go with the least clothed option. It gives me something to look at after a long day of buying Chinese food and spending large stacks of money." Ivory shrugs and brings his feet up onto the desk, propping his hands behind his head. Because, well, that's what amazing people like Ivory do.
"Eh, you shouldn't worry too much about your clothes. I'm about to give you an advance on your pay. I figure you're going to want to start dressing the part, since you're working here again. No offense to your previous taste in clothing, but we need to get you out of anything that your old flame might've liked you in. It's all about letting things go." There we go. Ivory's all about the speech-giving right about now. It's almost like he's just trying to find a way to make this chick forget about anything she previously had to deal with in her life. It should be all about Ivory right now.
"I wasn't sure what you liked, so I kinda' just brought you a little bit of everything that most people like. If nothing here works, I can always order more. The menu's around here somewhere…"
"I… 'm sorry, Mr. Wynn," Trina offers sheepishly, blushing faintly under the gentle admonishment. "I… I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. Just a rough day today, s'all." Because she knows Jack never would have wanted her back here. Ever. And she misses him, the bottom of her gut searing with ache. But Ivory's right. She has to move on. She has to let go. Jack isn't coming back this time, and she needs to just accept it.
Why does that always seem so much easier whenever Ivory is in the room?
Forgetting her previous modesty, the brunette pulls herself to her feet and quietly pads across the room in her bare feet with a little sway and a small smile. "Was really sweet of you to think of me."
Ivory swings his feet off the desk and leans up onto it like he can't believe she just had the nerve to say that. "Are you kidding? I've been thinking about you, nonstop. It's like I managed to bump into the one girl, in this entire city, that I didn't even know I was looking for. You give me a reason to come in early." Ivory tosses a wink, just to try and make sure she continues to feel like she's wanted and all of that good stuff. "Besides, you walking around in my shirt is like… asking for it." Oh dear. There he goes again with his predatory, sexual nature. Is it always mating season around Ivory Wynn?
Trina's shoulders roll nervously, and her laughter sounds just as uncomfortable. Her legs turn in on themselves a little, knees pressing together as she responds viscerally to the overatures he makes. "I really don't know that I'm worth all that thinkin', Mr. Wynn." Then carefully, as though permission might be revoked, long and uncalloused fingers stretch out to start looking through the bag's contents. "But… but maybe some new clothes wouldn't be so bad."
"Good girl. Letting me buy you things is the first step to admitting you no longer have a problem." He's already reaching into his desk drawer and coming out with a cash box. It gets unlocked with a key that's on his ring and he grabs a stack of hundred dollar bills. "Let's see. You're going to need shoes too, I bet." He counts out about 2500 bucks and throws the rest back into the box. "There you go. That should get you started. If you need more, you know I got you." Ivory's being way too nice than can actually be comfortable. He just doesn't seem to care about money so much as he cares about making sure this chick gets even more indebted to him. "If you want, I could go with you. Y'know, make sure you're buying the right figure flattering attire. I wouldn't mind having a go in the dressing room either." Oh boy.
Extracting a container of moo goo gai pan, Trina watches Ivory count out the money from the corner of her eye. Something makes her distinctly uncomfortable at the sight of all that money, and she soon is turning her attention more fully to the search for rice and chopsticks. When next she speaks, her voice is just a little quieter. Just a little more unsure. "If… if that's what'll make you happy, Mr. Wynn, then… then I'll wear whatever you want me to. You'll just have to pick it out."
Slipping open the take out box, Trina turns her back to lean against the desk and dive into the food while its still hot. And so… she doesn't have to look at him. But then, then there's a strange shift in her mental gears. It's not entirely subtle, and the sensation is enough to make her tilt her head in an odd little move, as though trying to shift her thoughts back into place. Her shoulders roll again.
"I… I owe you big. For… for giving me a place to stay."
"Nah, I wouldn't say you owe me. That'd make me take advantage of your situation or something. I couldn't do that. That's wrong." Ivory is all about trying to make sure that he does the right thing at all the right times. But within moments, he's around the side of the desk and drops down next to her, leaning back against the desk also. He's all about being on the same level with her right now. That should make things easier. "You gotta' do something for me, though. You gotta' stop callin' me Mr. Wynn. That makes me feel like I'm some kinda' pimp or somethin'. If we're gonna' be together for the foreseeable future, we're gonna' need to find a much hotter pet name for my wonderfully generous self." Is he kidding? Probably. But it doesn't matter. Nothing really matters so long as Ivory Wynn is around.
Trina's head drops down a little lower, hiding her face behind her hair for a long moment. "But you're my boss." She then looks up at Ivory, the first and uneaten bite of chicken still stuck between her chopsticks. Her brow is furrowed, confusion seeming to run rampant across her features. "I mean, you are, aren't you?"
Ivory holds his hands up. "Hey, if you want to keep this relationship as professional as possible, I'm not going to push you into anything else. Far be it from me to make you do anything you don't already want to do." One of those raised hands reaches over to move away some of Trina's hair, fingers brushing against her cheek as he does so. He can't help it. There's something about her that has him wanting to touch her skin every moment he can get the chance. It's certainly not for any nefarious means of his own accord, that's for sure. "Whatever you decide, I can promise you that as long as I'm in your life, nothing bad will ever happen to you again."
Trina doesn't move as Ivory gently brushes aside her long hair, setting it behind her shoulder, she doesn't immediately look at him. Instead, her eyes close, as though he might possess the secret to untangling the knotted ball of emotion in her gut. And then there are fingers upon her cheek.
Despite herself, rosy lips curl up into a tiny smile. Then, she listens. Listens how he promises, again, to to care for her. To protect her. Her whole being seems to melt, as suddenly as a summer thunderstorm, and she softens against his hand. Then, tentatively, the young woman twists her head. "M'sorry. I don't mean to be difficult."
"So don't be." Ivory says, his tone climbing on the edge of Matter-Of-Fact. "I haven't done anything to make you think I'm not a man of my word, right? I've yet to even really make any promises I haven't kept. You've managed to hit the jackpot, I'd say. So maybe you should take advantage." Ivory brings a hand down to her shoulder, letting it rest there as he searches for her eyes, though his tone of voice is enough to keep her mind in a haze of Ivory Wynn-ness, he's figuring. "Just listen to Ivory and everything else will be a piece of cake. Okay?"
Nervously, Trina lets the tip of her tongue move across her upper lip. Then, she looks up into Ivory's eyes, letting him catch hers without much in the way of a fight. She lingers there, and then slowly nods. He wants her to listen. She… she finds herself wanting to do very little more than to listen. It works out well for him.
Ivory smiles. "That's my girl. This is what you're gonna' do. You're gonna' forget all about whatever his name was. You're gonna' worry about one guy and one guy only. And that's good ol' Ivory Wynn, here. He's the one that's gonna' take care of you. He's the one that's going to make everything all better. The past is over. Your future is now. Your future is Ivory." The silver tongued savior just keeps a smile on his face throughout this entire declaration of wanting to help her get over her past. "You're mine now, Trina. And we're not going to let anything change that, are we?"
As Ivory speaks, Trina's eyes are opened wide, vulnerable and trusting. To those eyes, there is no other creature in the world than Ivory. To her ears, there is no other voice but his. Her lips part to speak, but nothing escapes in the end. Instead, there is only the shaking of her head.
Nothing to change that.