Date: June 4, 2010
Somethings just need to be kept in private. In order to do that, deals with devils need to be made.
The last place anyone would expect to see Helen Muth is at Therapy. However, sometimes her job takes her to places that she wouldn't ever think she would be in. Though it's summer outside, the PR agent has taken it upon herself to come in as best of a disguise as she can manage. The whole reason she is here is in order to extricate a client of hers from this exotic bar before the tabloids can ever get wind of it. Dressed more casually, as to not stand out, she has on a summery wrap around dress and big sunglasses in order to hide her eyes. A fashionable hat is pulled down over her distinctive red hair that's been pulled up.
As she slips inside of the club, she quickly finds the security guard of her client eyeing a dancer appreciatively. "Jimmy," she sighs as she pulls off her sunglasses. "Thanks for calling me. I thought he swore this place off weeks ago. He promised me! You promised me you wouldn't take him here any more."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Muth, but he's the boss. When the boss says jump…" He trails off and leans back against the bar again.
"I don't think scantily clad women shaking their who-know-whats during an election year is included in jumping, Jimmy." Helen pulls off her hat and frowns. "Where is he?" She frowns, realizing that he's not in the main area. "No…he's not…"
This is going to be the beginning of the Ivory Wynn empire. Speaking of Ivory Wynn, the man himself is standing in front of his office, surveying the landscape of his club and making sure that there is nothing going on. Granted, security is weaving in and out of the shadowed areas and keeping close eyes on the stage. Everything seems to be going just fine, at the moment. Which, for Ivory Wynn, is a good thing. This club has to come off as the best damn strip club on the east coast… to make sure nobody ever looks closer. To make sure nobody tries to figure out what's really good.
Secrets are a Bond Villain's Best Friend.
There's a glance towards the bar and an eyebrow being raised as he spots someone with a fashionable hat on. People don't wear hats in strip clubs. Eyes narrow. His tone is almost a whisper, but he's quite sure his earbud will pick it up. "Angle bar. Dark glasses. Weird hat. Slim to no figure." Hrm. "Shadow it."
Two suited personnel fall out of their formation and make their way to the bar. Looking only slightly threatening.
Meanwhile, Jimmy is in the VIP getting his groove on.
Helen twists her recently shod hat and frowns. "Jimmy!" She hisses. "This is an election year. The Councilman is married." Wheeling on the security guard, she takes a deep breath and puts a hand on her head, giving the club another once over. Just in time to notice that there are slightly threatening suited personnel on their way over. Great. Just what she doesn't need. A scene.
Straightening, Helen glances over at Jimmy, who, noticing that his reprimand has been cut off quickly also notices the security coming her way. "We don't need a scene," she whispers as she turns around to greet the men coming closer.
With a quick smile, she stows her sunglasses into her purse and turns on her normal PR persona. "I'm sorry gentlemen, is there a problem?" That's probably their line, but she figures she'll beat them to it.
"We were coming to offer our assistance."
"Nobody wants a scene."
"We want to assist you in any way possible."
"How can we help?"
The security men might as well be Agents from the Matrix or something. They don't even look like they know how to smile. Still though, they stand side by side and just kind of stare at Helen, whilst awaiting some sort of orders from either her or Mr. Wynn. Either way it goes, they already have the inclination that they are going to be having to deal with Jimmy, one of their best customers, in some capacity.
Is this for real? Helen cocks her head to the side as she studies the Matrix twins and then about the room again. The last thing she wants to do is have to implicate herself to someone at this club. However, what she would like is to get her client out of this place as easily and painlessly as possible. That would also mean, however, that she would be insulting the proprietor of this, ahem, establishment.
"Alright. You want to help? And you don't want a scene? Then it seems like we have a common goal in at least one thing at least. I'm sure an arrangement can be made." With a frown, she glances about. "I'd prefer to talk about this with a manager, however. Privately. It's a delicate matter."
"As you wish."
That comes from both of the Security Guards, before they turn around and disappear into the crowd, dim lighting and scantily clad women. It's almost as if they weren't even there. Very weird or very thorough. Either way, it only takes a moment for the 'manager' to make himself known. Because somewhere in the interim, Ivory Wynn snuck over and plopped himself down on a stool at the bar.
Ivory spins on the stool and hops down, holding his favorite drink in his hand and he walks up next to Helen, lifting the drink and taking a sip, whilst looking out into the club. "Ivory Wynn." He introduces himself without even looking at her. "You're not here to cause trouble in my club, are you?" Sip.
Creepy. They just spoke together without meaning to. Or they meant to…which makes things all the creepier. Unsure of what she's supposed to do, Helen glances over to her own security - Jimmy - and then takes a step in order to follow the Twins that don't look alike until she's startled by the greeting by Ivory.
With a blush that she doesn't even know why it arises, the red head smooths her wrinkle-free dress and attempts composure. "Helen Muth." Though she attempts chilly and professional, there's a crack of warmth there. "That depends. Are you here to cause trouble to the community?" She raises an eyebrow at him drinking and realizes that he's not even going to give her the dignity of looking at her while they speak. That annoys her.
"You misunderstand the intentions of Therapy, Ms. Muth. Therapy is here for the community. The only thing I want to do is make everyone that comes in here a happy camper for as long as they're here. Everyone needs a place to relax. Everyone needs a secret. Sometimes… Therapy is both."
Ivory finishes off his drink, very quickly and turns back to set the glass down on the bar. As he turns back, he stops to actually look at Helen, this time and offers a smile. Nothing major. Just a regular smile. That seems to sparkle in the dim light. Weird. "I heard you're here for Jimmy. He's a good guy. He loves the girls. They adore him. I can promise you, right now, that none of them would ever do anything to ruin what he's got going for him. He likes to look. They get paid to get looked at. No harm done." Ivory shrugs just a bit. "But. If you'd rather work out something less public for Jimbo, my office is right here."
Ivory takes a couple of steps in that direction, before turning back to look at her once more. That smile is still there. "Cute dress, by the way." Wink.
The first smile is received with a tightly lipped frown. "Jimmy…?" Helen glances from the real Jimmy, who shrugs, to Ivory. Maybe they have the right person, but maybe they don't. The last thing that she'll do right now is confirm or deny that. All she wants is to get her client out without a scene. Gathering steam, she plunges on. "I don't know who you heard that from, however, this is - exactly - a private matter and I would prefer to discuss this out of earshot of…" She glances about. "Well, everyone."
The wink and the comment about her dress should make her feel creeped out, however, for some reason she's charmed. But, still professional. Professionally charmed. But, isn't that Ivory's speciality? "Thank you. Now, if you wouldn't mind. I'd like to handle this all as quickly as possible."
"As you wish."
So that must be where the security people got this from. Either way, Ivory leads the way to his office, opening the door and standing back to make sure that the woman gets to enter first, before he follows up and makes sure the door is closed behind him.
"Here we are. No more earshot. All private and then some." Ivory leans back against the door for a moment, raising an eyebrow and making quite sure to focus his attentions on Helen. "Just tell me what it is you want to happen and I'll make it so. I don't want no trouble."
Either the security people got it from Ivory, or all of them have watched the Princess Bride far too often. Helen gives a glance over her shoulder at Jimmy as she follows Ivory toward the back and the office. She steps through the door first, as gestured to, and glances around her. Once the door is closed, she turns around and settles her attention on him. If he's going to give her his undivided attention, she'll give him hers. Though she restrains herself from correcting his grammar, she looks him right in the eye.
"Mr. Wynn. I have no qualms with your establishment or what you do here. The only problem that I have at the moment is that my client is being held to a higher standard by the people who want their politicians to be more into…Sweet Charity than Flashdance, if you understand me." She takes a breath and a moment to collect her thoughts. "I'm sure we could arrange for something more private so that both your needs as an owner are met and my clients desires are met, as well. He's a wealthy man and I'm sure he would have no problem with making sure you are well compensated."
Ivory listens to all of this and doesn't really seem to be too worried about anything that's coming out of her mouth. It's almost as if he's already planning things and has his own way this is going to end up. At least, that's what he wants to happen.
"While I'm sure he has enough money to make this place double over with green, I don't think loaning out my girls would be wise or even safe for them. I care about each of the girls that work here and trying to split my security team between here and wherever you want my girls sent… would just not be practical."
Ivory taps his chin though, stepping away from the door and moving off towards the desk. He drags his finger across it and drops down into the seat behind it. Fingers steepled as he turns to look at Helen. Narrowing his eyes a bit, he just kind of stares at the woman. "I could possibly be persuaded to add Sweet Charity to the playlist here. I'm sure one of my DJs has it. And there's always iTunes." Why does he keep staring at her like that? X-Ray vision?!
"I wouldn't want anything to happen to the women who worked here, either." Obviously not. Not only would that be horrible for press, but Helen isn't an automaton. She cares about what happens to the people around her. "The Councilman has extensive security. A detail would be responsible for picking up and guarding the girls. Both safety and discretion are what I'm attempting to accomplish here. However, he cannot be seen here. One way or another, this will be his last visit."
Helen will somehow see to that. As she's been watching him throughout their conversation, she notices that he's staring at her. It causes her to shift from one foot to another. Is there something in her hair, in her teeth? What is happening here? To be sure, she tugs at the hair tie that is keeping her hair pulled back into a sensible ponytail. Then, she doesn't put it back up once its down. There's a soft laugh and a roll of her eyes. "The addition of a show tune isn't going to make your establishment a place that the Councilman can be seen in, Mr. Wynn." But, she smiles at him.
"Fair enough. I had to try."
Ivory figures that he's fighting one of those losing battles here. It's very hard to stop a woman from getting what they want when they are around him. He's got this weakness for women (REDHEADS) that just kind of keeps him in check. He doesn't like being in check. So unfair.
"Make the arrangements. But I'll need to know which girls he wants ahead of time. This is going to seriously cut into my scheduling, but I think I can work it out." There's an overdramatic sigh that comes with these words, as he leans back into the seat and drops his hands to the side. "Just two conditions and you've got yourself a deal." Uh oh. This must be where the catch comes in. "The first is fairly simple. I would just like one of my security people to be with the girls. Not that I don't trust you, but I don't trust you." Smile!
"I'm sure." The grin doesn't leave Helen's face, but it does turn glowing. "You'll be well rewarded for your pains. I'll see to it." And she is as good as her word. "Of course, that is your right. I merely suggested the Councilman's as you were worried about splitting your own guards for the women here. Obviously, I want to make sure that the women feel safe and in fact are safe." She gives Ivory a smirk at his last line. "That's quite alright, I would feel the same in your own position." Now that she doesn't feel like she has to fight him, it's easier to fall into a bit of banter with him.
And they've got one detail out of the way, now comes the second. Helen waits for a moment and then prompts, "And the second condition?"
"I'm going to need all of this in writing, you know. For tax purposes. I wouldn't want anyone thinking I'm running a 'different' kind of service, after all. I'll have my assistant draw up a contract and I was hoping we could finalize this over a food setting of your choice. I'm available for Breakfast, Lunch or Dinner." That's right, Ivory. Try to sneak your way into a date through all this political red tape business.
"I'm sure you won't mind spending a couple more hours with a lowly strip club owner?"
With a raised eyebrow, Helen laughs. "Of course. Not a problem. The paperwork, of course, will be kept strictly confidential." The last thing she wants is a paper trail, but for now this is the best she can do. "We're not here to accuse you of prostitution. That's, obviously, illegal." For Helen, she may not realize that this is actually a proposal for a date. She's used to meetings happening over food all the time. Perhaps oblivious, or perhaps not, she quips, "But not brunch?" A joke, see? With a quick nod, she straightens her purse. "I'm available for lunch or dinner. Let's set up a meeting and you can bring the paperwork and I can look it over. A lawyer will have to see to it, as well, of course. People get all antsy when money is involved."
Ivory finds himself standing up and offering one of his hands for some kind of handshaking agreement on the subject matter at hand. After all, he might as well seal the beginning part of the deal before he actually writes up some kind of crazy binding contract full of fine print and such. He does, of course, have a plan. He's evil. "Dinner, it is. I'll make the reservations and set everything up." Grinning, there's a reason why he seems like he's on top of the world, as that hand is outstretched and awaiting Helen's approval.
Ivory may be evil, but Helen knows a good lawyer. And they'll have him tied up in legalese should the contract not seem up to snuff. She won't be the one signing it, after all. It's the Councilman's name and money - it's up to him to make sure he wants it as Ivory deals it. Leaning over, Helen takes Ivory's hand in a firm shake and smiles. "Excellent. I'll look forward to it, then. Thank you for being so understanding, Mr. Wynn." If the name has rung a bell for her as being the old Senator, she hasn't mentioned it. Especially as she can't imagine that man now running a strip club in Manhattan.