2007-06-03: Pizza By Demand


Jane_icon.gif Lyndsay_icon.gif Randall_icon.gif Nadia_icon.gif

Summary: Lyndsay gets herself a free meal, courtesy of Jane. Later the two women and Randall meet Nadia.

Date It Happened: June 3rd, 2007

Pizza By Demand

Near and later inside Famous Vito's Pizza, East Village, Manhattan, NYC

Moving along into the evening, this third day of June, Jane makes her way into the East Village. She's wearing some variety of rock star image tank top and shorts with athletic shoes, and as always has that guitar case and backpack over her shoulder. The bookstore Cass owns is passed by, she pausing there for a moment to think of the still hospitalized owner, before she moves on. Down the street, glancing briefly at Secret Lair, reminding herself to someday buy more Black Canary issues, and further on. She might be looking for a place that strikes her as good to open up and play, but what catches her eye first is Famous Vito's Pizza. Her course is adjusted to take her there. Food. Yum. Could get one, and take it home to share with the Electrical Roommate.

Lyndsay is dressed for the moment in semi-goth. Black t-shirt, snug. Olive-green skirt, short, and belted with a wide black belt. Fishnets. Black combat boots. (In short, she looks just like she does on her wikipage!) She's heading down the sidewalk herself. She spots Jane, and the guitar case catches her eye. Most people aren't just walking down the street with one. She changes her own course to better intercept Jane.

Half a block from the pizza place, the interception occurs. Doctor Forrest is shifting the weight on her shoulders, getting it into a more comfortable arrangement, and pauses as she does so. Her eyes linger on a store or two in the area, and in doing so she remains stationary. It provides ample time for anyone attempting or intending to approach her.

Lyndsay smiles over at Jane. "Hi there." she says, looking at the taller brunette. "Street busker?" she asks, curiously.

The woman turns at the voice addressing her, and replies "When the mood strikes, yes. But it's not my only gig." Jane sizes up the semi-goth, asking "You play?" A grin is flashed. It's a rare occasion she wouldn't give the time of day to someone, and a person asking about music? Pure bonus.

Lyndsay shakes her head. "No. But I wanted to learn. You do lessons?"

"I could," the guitarist answers after a moment's thought. "How are you with your hands?" In her mind, this is crucial, the ability to quickly move over the strings and frets, hitting the right spots easily. "Quick typists do well with guitars, I've found."

Lyndsay lifts her hands, and wiggles her fingers a bit. "Always did okay with typing in class. I'm pretty sure I can learn it, and besides, if I can't, then at least I know I can't."

A nod, and a quiet grin, precede her answer. "Like anything else, the most important thing is how badly you want to learn. I've been playing for years. It's so much in me I almost feel naked if I don't have a guitar with me." Jane takes a few more steps toward the pizza place, asking "Do you play any other instruments?"

Lyndsay shakes her head. "Never held one in my life. But it sounds like it would be fun." Not a true passion, but an entertaining diversion, after all. "Bet you'd get a bigger audience if you were naked, though." She walks on at Jane's side.

That draws a laugh, as she remembers a certain dress worn recently, which in ways could be called nearly naked. "But they wouldn't be paying any attention to my sound at all. Jane Forrest," she offers.

Lyndsay laughs. "But they'd be paying attention to you, and that's just as good, isn't it?" She offers a hand. "Lyndsay." She doesn't give a last name, at least not yet. "Heading for pizza?"

Nodding once, Jane replies "I am. Lyndsay." The name is committed to memory. "Are you?" More time is spent on how to answer the bit about attention and being good. "Not neccessarily. I want to be known for the music I make, not for being the naked chick who plays guitar, because it blows away everything else and makes me look cheap, like I can't really play and need the gimmick, y'know?"

Lyndsay grins. "I am now. And you never know. Lots of performers have weird quirks that they get to get away with -because- they're really good. Kinda a chicken and the egg thing, you know?"

Laughing, Jane takes a few more steps and opens the door to Famous Vito's, holding it open for Lyndsay to enter, intending to go after her. "I still wouldn't recommend that particular way, but yeah, eccentricity fits the business well."

The goth walks in and nods. "Well, yeah. Just saying. You could." She considers. "I'll get us a table, why don't you go get us both some pizza."

There's not even a reply, Jane keeps going to the counter and places an order for one large pizza, with pepperoni, mushrooms, sausage, extra cheese, and ground beef. She, it seems, is averse to green peppers and onions, and the like. Then, oddly enough, after placing the order she just stands there waiting. Because she can't turn around until she has pizza, and waiting is the only way.

Lyndsay does just that. She heads to get them both a table, and smiles, waiting there for Jane to return. The musician seems nice enough, but Lyndsay isn't about to turn down a free dinner.

Some time passes, long enough to prepare a pizza, bake, and serve it. She pays, and goes to take it to the table Lyndsay chose. Her guitar case is set down and propped against the table, backpack going to the floor.

Lyndsay smiles as Jane comes back. "Thanks!" she says, a quirky smile on her full lips. "So…when can we start studying?" She takes out a napkin, and then grabs a slice of the pizza.

"Maybe in a day or two," she answers, adding "I'll have to check what I've got coming up and give you a ring, or you give me one. My number's 283-2260." Jane then reaches for a napkin and a slice, starting to eat.

Lyndsay smiles. "I haven't gotten a local phone number here yet. But I can give you a call. You're not just saying that to blow me off, are you?"

"No," Jane answers simply. "But I also don't want to make a commitment and break it." Because she has a complicated life, and one never knows what might happen. She's got boyfriend to keep from driving, people in a hospital, and a ton of other things, on top of which she can't remember offhand when the next studio session is.

The gothy girl looks a little petulant at that. "What, do you break commitments a lot?" She doesn't seem the kind to deal well with being told No. More than a little spoiled.

"No, I don't," Jane replies, "because I try not to make them without certainty of keeping them." It's all straightforward. She resumes eating, in silence, because eating is most effectively done that way.

Lyndsay eats as well, though after a slice, she'll give it some more conversation. "So what kind of music do you play?" It's a curious thing more than anything. "Is that what you do for a living? In a band?"

"It is. I love it so much, got a band now and a studio contract for session work, and a possible album. but I still like to play on the streets. It's so pure. No middlemen, just me and the audience, they pay or don't." Jane continues eating, moving to her third slice as she goes quiet again.
"And I'm a rocker," she adds, before biting into the food.

Lyndsay nods. "That's pretty cool. You must be pretty good. What's your band's name? Any mp3's?" She starts in on another slice after she asks that volley of questions.

"I am," the guitarist answers with confidence, quietly. "We haven't named the band yet or put out anything." Jane decides to turn the tables, and ask her own questions. "What about you, Lyndsay? You only gave one name, you've thought about playing guitar and decided to learn, what's paying your bills?"

Lyndsay laughs a little amusedly at that. "Living off other people's money, mostly. Consider me Paris Hilton, only on a way smaller scale, better looking, and smarter."

"Dreams, desires, goals?" Jane asks as her fingers lift the slice again, taking another bite and finishing it off.

Lyndsay is sitting there with Jane, munching a pizza. The shorter brunette is in snug black t-shirt, olive green skirt, black fishnets, and black combat boots. (In short, looking just like her wikipage pic). "Mmm…be really rich. Famous and popular wouldn't hurt either. Pretty much the same as most people, I guess."

Randall is just making his way into the pizza parlor at about that moment, overhearing the tail end but not the context. "Wait, rich and famous? Somebody hit the lottery this week?" He doesn't address this to anyone in particular, just offers it out generally while he looks around to see who's conversing.

Without warning, the usual cacophony from the back raises in volume, followed by clattering noises, possibly things being thrown and angry voices in Italian.. and some words in English that are not fit for mixed company. A lovely mishmash of swearing ensues, before a female voice chimes in: "DAMMIT GINO, PAULIE, knock it off! You're gonna scare the customers!" (Insert unintelligible retort here, then..) "Baby S, watch your mouth before your pops hears ya!" "I'm old enough to swear if I want to! n'you stop sniggering at me, Paulie! And don't call me 'baby'! I'm /20/." "Ain't what your old man thinks!" Then stomping out from the back, Nadia appears behind the counter, yelling over her shoulder, "SO? Jeez, can't a person be an adult anymor.. HEY I SAW THAT. Get back to work 'fore I tell Tommy on you all!" Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Nadia faces front again, then helps herself to the cups and drink machine.

Near her, at the table, Jane has a guitar case propped up and a backpack near her feet. Her mouth is full, she chews that last bite of a pizza slice, and eyes the pie in consideration of taking another. On spotting the man and hearing his voice, she looses a quiet chuckle. "Evening, Randall." She then raises an eyebrow at Nadia's appearance and the drama she emerged with. Ah, humanity. Her eyes glance around at the twenty-year old facing front at the drink machine, then returns to her food.

Lyndsay looks over. Her eyes widen at the swearing and suchlike coming from the back, and she looks at Nadia in surprise and general amusement, before looking to Jane. "Cool. We get a floor show with dinner."

Randall hooks his thumbs into his otherwise-unused belt loops, leaning back against the wall next to the door. "Careful what you ask for," he muses, "it's all fun and games till somebody gets a chair thrown at their head." He waves to Nadia as she passes by, and cranes his head to get a better look at the as-yet-unseen parties back in the back

"Cretino," Nadia mutters as she fills up her cup with some Mountain Dew. Oh.. customers.. right. Well she doesn't work here. She just freeloads, flirts with Leo (when Carmine's not around!), or visits people in general here. She looks up from where she is, catching movement from the corner of her eye. Seeing Randall's wave, she smiles at him, "Hey you. Back again for more huh? Oh shit.. HEY.. CAPO DI CAZZO.. Mountain Dew is out! It's all fizzy water. Quit dickin' around back there!" "So which one of us is yous hollerin' at sweetheart?" "ANY OF YOU. Sheesh. Quit chasing each other with knives, and somethin' would get done around here." The cup is dumped out into the little tray there at the machine and she tries the next soda. "Don't mind the noise and violence, they're always fighting back there." And up front, and anywhere really.

She knows a variety of languages, but Italian isn't one of them. Jane thus has no clue what Nadia is saying in that tongue to the people she's addressing. Trying not to pay attention, in fact, she goes for that next slice of the pizza she's sharing with Lyndsay at their table. Food, yes, a good thing to put focus on and help with her goal of unknowledge.

Lyndsay grins at the conversation, as she looks back to Nadia. "Oh, hey, it's all good. Like I said, the floor show is way worth the price of the pizza." Especially when you didn't pay for it in the first place.

Once one of the Keystone Kops actually comes out and tends the counter - Randall waits it out, he's got some time tonight - he orders a plate of linguini and clams, or whatever they have that comes closest. "No kidding," he chimes in, settling down at a little table nearby. "Hell, Vegas charges a hundred bucks a head, this place could probably get at least twenty easy."

"Hell, I ain't so sure of that. Not with those assclowns back there," Nadia says to Lyndsay, jerking her head back towards the kitchen.. where once more.. colorful language flows from. To which, the girl just rolls her eyes and sips at her Pepsi.. which was alright. No thanks to the boy-o's in the back. "That's all normal 'round here. I couldn't even tell you what sparked this argument. Someone looked at the other person the wrong way, or cut the pizza wrong. No telling." Then without warning, Nadia turns to face the kitchen and hollers out, "And hands off the cigarettes I left for papa! I'm talking at you, Gino!" Grumbling, she looks back to those braving the atmosphere. She can't remember seeing this many customers here at one time. "Sheesh, tell me about. Vegas might be safer though."

The guitarist looks up as she eats and settles eyes on Nadia for a moment, to ask "This is a family run business?" Jane takes a moment to internally consider her own parents, and the lack of brothers or sisters. Perhaps she's picturing how they'd have been were they Italian ancestry. Her father has an Italian accent in this mental image, and her mother too, telling her how they want her to attend law school and marry a Senator someday, leave that stupid guitar alone, in language as colorful as is heard here.

The goth at the table laughs. "Given it sounds like a scene out of the Sopranos, maybe it's a "Family" run business." she says, making little finger-quotes as she looks back to Jane. "Enjoy your pizza or else!" If she only knew.

Randall glances over again at Lyndsay and shakes his head. "Nah, if it was a Family business, they'd be threatening somebody else, not each other. Unless it's sweeps month, then all bets are off." He wanders over to the drink machine, checking out the iced tea— yeah, that one looks like it's still working. For now.

"Yeah, only family would put up with this assurdita on a daily basis," Nadia says, tilting her head some towards the back. "Cousins, blood or married, distant and not so distant. Except for Paulie back there, I don't claim him." There is a fond note to her tone, so the arguing, the swearing, it's just run of the mill for the lot of them. "Haha. Sopranos, very funny, gawd I hate that show, gave such a negative stereotype y'know? Always gotta put up with the wiseass comments about 'Family'." Even if.. it uh, is true in this case, not that she's gonna admit it to strangers. A "Damn straight," is directed at Randall, even as her Italian temper is stoked up again, and a little of that leaks out. Just a little. "So I wouldn't go sayin' that too loud, capisce? They don't need more encouraging back there to blow up.. and aw hell, I'm late. Damn, Ma's gonna nag me to death now." Cup in hand, she chugs a drink as she races on out the door.

She's still traveling inner mind lane as the woman called Nadia departs, Jane with a partly eaten pizza slice in one hand and the pepsi in the other. A few moments later her head shakes, chasing the images away, and she resumes dining.

Lyndsay looks back to Jane. "You're kinda quiet. So, we were talking about you starting to teach me right away, right?" She grins.

Randall heads back to his seat, still distracted for the moment by the running argument in the back. It actually gets quieter after Nadia leaves; probably the customers are less fun to show off to.

"Things like that are often best not commented on," Jane replies with a quiet chuckle. "One never knows when a chair might come flying out. And being the target wouldn't be fun at all." Her eyes lift and settle on Lyndsay as she laughs. "Nice try. Said I'd contact you in a day or two and set it up." She finishes off her pizza slice and drinks from the soda.

Lyndsay hmphs just a bit, and takes a sip of her soda. "Awww. But you want to start teaching me as soon as possible, right?" A little glint in her eye. GOD, having powers is fun.

Just to be on the safe side, Randall leans back and checks up again on the two clowns in the back. No, they don't show any sign of expanding the fight beyond one another. As Lyndsay speaks up in that particular tone of voice, he blinks and rubs his eyes, squinting off into the middle distance.

"I already said I did," Jane answers. She finishes the soda and stands, moving to pick up her guitar case and backpack. "I have to go make some arrangements so things can be possible. See you soon, Lyndsay. Take care, Randall." The last is spoken with a turn toward him.

Lyndsay smiles. "Cool." she says. Any odd tones of voice are gone, just her normal voice. Maybe a trick of sound? "See you around, Jane. I'll call you soon. Thanks!"

Randall looks up and waves to Jane. "Yeah, you too," he replies, before she takes off. Then, peering at Lyndsay once again: "Always good to be enthusiastic. I had a few piano lessons early on, but it's a lot easier to follow along with someone else's performance than work out your own."

Lyndsay smiles back. "Nah…it's not even so much enthusiasm as it is lack of patience. I'm kind of an "I want it and I want it now" sort of girl."

"Well," he answers with shrug, "now that depends on how selective you are about the things you want. Music lessons probably won't bite you, but some other things…"

Lyndsay laughs. "Nah. I'm not really so much patient with anything. Patience is for people who've got nothing to do, and that's not me." She sips her soda.

Randall grins, absently reaching for a fork as the pasta finally shows up. "So what do you race through when there isn't dinner or a show going on?"

Lyndsay smirks. "A better show? Life's one show after another; if you aren't having fun you might as well be in the ground. Too short to just waste any of it, you know?"

Randall shrugs again. "Oh, I don't know— sometimes you need to take a break and recharge. Sometimes you just want to take a break for its own sake." He works his way through the noodles off and on as he talks. "Not to say that the other extreme isn't a lot more common, unfortunately… people can spend years as zombies if they're not careful about it."

Lyndsay nods. "Well, sure. I mean, everybody needs crash time. But you sleep, you wake up, you start again. Y'know?"

"Oh, sure. There's a reason they sell fourteen thousand tons of coffee every morning." Randall sets his things down, looking pensive. "So what do you do to keep the bills paid?"

Lyndsay smiles. "Absolutely nothing. Living off other people's money. Think of me as Paris Hilton with more brains and less slutty."

Randall rolls his eyes. "Oh, /that/ narrows it down to… what, a million people? Per district? —Oh, hey, were you there at that last party that the Cains threw? Seemed like that would've been your type of scene."

Lyndsay shakes her head. "Just got into New York from California. So I'm still feeling out the scene, you know. Get a feel for what's hot and what's not."

At that, Randall perks up an extra couple of notches. "You too? Whereabouts in California? I've been here a few months myself… it's plenty lively, if you don't mind the occasional loyal citizen suddenly whipping out a hand cannon and having himself some target practice."

Lyndsay laughs. "Most recently, Beverly Hills. But just…too much, you know? Too much glam, wanted something a little more real." Her emogoth self must not have fit in there too well.

Randall says, "I guess… I was further north, plenty of room to cram everyone's idea of 'real' into the same little area. None of it's as smoothly color-coordinated as Beverly Hills would be."

Lyndsay nods. "Out there, if you're not a bleachblonde stick, you don't blend in. And I'm not. So, screw 'em." she says, sounding more amused than bitter. "I'll come out here."

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