|AIR DATE 2011.08.28|
|Synopsis: It's what everyone and everything in Los Angeles tends to be.|
The Standard is the prime place to have a NOW Network Party of this caliber. While it is not exactly black tie, the invites to people all over the entertainment world did say to come dressed to impress and things of that nature. After all, this is a celebratory party for the network to promote and prepare for the upcoming fall season! In just a couple of weeks, there's going to be season and series premieres and it is going to be beyond epic.
"… and once again, I'd like to thank everyone for coming. Everyone have a blast tonight! Thank you!" Evelyn Stark's sexy self is in her little black dress and sporting no rings of the married style on her fingers. As she steps down from the stage, the hired band gets to work with the music and the party dives into full swing!
Van Dallas, of course, is rocking some tie-less suit and looking ever so hot in all black. Black slacks, shirt, jacket and even shoes. He's forgone the sunglasses this evening, in favor of sticking close to the bar and ordering drinks, whilst he takes a gander around the crowded rooftop. And being sexy.
Everett always dresses to impress. One would be hard-pressed to see him in anything other than high-end clothing. He'd wear a tie to a kegger - if he ever had to go to one. Which does happen, if certain clients need babysitting. Tonight, he's dressed all in white - white shoes, white suit, white waistcoat, very subtly off-white tie. The talent agent is currently sipping a martini and people-watching, one hand resting inside the pocket his pants.
"Hello, again," Jane's voice comes from Everett's right. She, too, is dressed in white, though the color extends only to her sparkly, one-strap cocktail dress. Her red-soled high heels are a deep, rich red. She's forgone jewelry, save for a pair of simple diamond studs in her ears. The dark-haired Brit offers Everett her hand and a bright, cheerful smile. "How are you finding yourself tonight, Mister Southway?"
One of these things is not like the other.
Wriggled — possibly physically forced — into what appears to be an alarmingly modest dark purple dress, Katie roams the crowd with a face akin to a soldier going to war. She hasn't the grace to hide it, nor quite to pull of the high-heeled sandals she's wearing, made by a something called Fenti, which sounds an awful lot like a coffee drink to her, and therefore inappropriate for her shoes. A twist of her body as she tries to find a perfect hovering spot reveals that the high, straight, collar-bone hugging neckline of her dress is somewhat deceiving; the material dips very loosely in the back, exposing skin way too pale to be legal in California. There isn't a drink in her hand, so her fingers clench and unclench reflexively as she scoots up to the railing of the roof's edge, peering down at all the lucky ones not at The Standard. Those bastards.
Van is finishing up his drink and tapping the bar for a refill, when some random cleavage-induced woman is all up in his personal space. She practically has him all over the bar but by the time she's finished whispering whatever in his ear, she's wandering back off into whatever it is that she's doing. As for Van, he's watching her walk away and reaching for the inside pocket of his jacket and he pulls out, apparently, panties. Another glance is given to the wandering cleavage girl.
A smirk later and Van is tugging the underwear back into his pocket (which had a number written on it somehow) and it is at this moment that he spots the purple dress that doesn't belong. A curious eyebrow is raised and he's grabbing two glasses of champagne off a wandering by waiter, spinning around a couple of bodies and making his way over to where she may still be.
"For you, madame." And one of the champagne glasses is offered to Katie as he goes for the subtle charming smile this time.
It takes a moment for Everett to realize he's being addressed. He turns towards the sound of Jane's voice and smiles as he recognizes her. "Hello, dear. Lovely to see you again. I see that you, like I am, are taking advantage of the last opportunity to wear white before Labour Day makes it a fashion faux-pas?" His tone is droll. He takes her hand and squeezes it gently. "You look stunning. Can I get you a drink? And please, call me Everett." Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Katie and Van, but that's just part of him keeping tabs on who's in attendance.
"Oh, is that still a thing?" Jane asks innocently, perhaps teasing Everett a bit. The compliment to her appearance is accepted with a gracious nod, and she gives his suit the once-over. "White suits your colouring wonderfully. And please, yes, I'd love a drink. I'm absolutely parched." Her attention is given and focused solely on Everett, for the moment.
Hands clenched on the railing, Katie might as well look like she's about to hurl herself over… continuing right past Van's attempt at a smile, because her day-dreaming head doesn't quite grasp that she's a ma'dam. Following the brief delay, her head turns a little too quickly. Wide eyes take in the presence of Van there, his notable lack of tie included, but the eyeballing ends there. Instead, her gaze jumps off his face to scan the immediate area, and then take in the champagne glass in his hand very last. It means as much to her as a speck of dust, and her hand raised is weak. "Oh, I don't really…" drink? Somehow, she's wrapping fingers around the stem, anyway, in the pressure of the situation.
"Party? I can tell." Van is already sipping at his glass, after a small raise at her. He's learned that he can't wait for people to catch up when it comes to getting his drink on. At least he's only on champagne and one Long Island at this point. Otherwise, this would be a completely different approach. "I'm Van Dallas, by the way." As if she didn't know. "And there's a high chance that I'm here to rescue you." Did he just drop the Skywalker?!
"What will you have, then? I'm just about dry, myself." Everett eats the olive off the end of a pick, then deposits his empty glass on the nearest surface. He scans the room again before returning his attention to the woman across from him. "Seems a reasonable turnout, mmm? Shall we go to the bar, or would you like me to fetch something for you?"
"Isn't it customary to drink champagne at these things?" Jane waves a hand to indicate the rooftop and all of the people standing atop it with a vague gesture. "Let's go the bar, shall we? I wouldn't dream of making you fetch me anything." She slips her hand into the crook of Everett's elbow. "Seems a fine enough turn out, indeed. Do you have many clients in attendance?"
"That, too…" Katie mutters, around skeptically examining the edge of her newly acquired champagne glass. Rather than delicately hold it, like so many others, she sort of fists it awkwardly towards herself and lets it sit there. "Yeah, you— don't really have to introduce yourself. Especially, like. Here. I'm fairly certain there's a giant ass poster of your face," she scoots her hands up to frame her own, nearly dumping the champagne, "in the lobby. But, umm… ah— aha…" The string of delayed laughter that bubbles out of her isn't exactly in appreciation for the reference; she seems to be privately scoffing at her own joke. "Haha— nooo. No, no. I'm sorry— Mr. Dallas. I don't… think you can."
"Okay, if we're going to have a good time, you gotta' call me Van. Mr. Dallas sounds like a rejected character from Clue." Van finishes off his champagne and stylishly sets the empty glass on a wandering waiter's try, all without looking away from the Katie. At the mentioning of his big poster face in the lobby, he can't do anything but smile. "Ah, you saw that, huh? At least they got one of my better sides." Grinning, he takes to leaning againstt he railing himself. "Are you saying I can't rescue you from this horribly mandatory party or are you one of those you are woman hear you roar types?"
"I have long since stopped letting the occasion dictate my drinking choices. I'm not particularly fond of champagne. It's the kind of thing one pretends to like even if you find it distasteful." Everett chuckles and leads Jane on to the bar. "But if that is your choice, then I'm happy to oblige." He casts another look around the room and then says, in answer to her question, "A few. Not a great many as of yet, I'm afraid. Just enough to get me on the guest list for tonight." He makes a casual motion towards Katie. "Is she the new one? The scriptwriter?"
"Mmm. In that case, I'll have a red wine." It'll go really well with her shoes. Not that Jane is so shallow as all that, but the thought does cross her mind. While she's waiting on their drinks, she lets her gaze roam over the crowd. She does, eventually, spot Van lounging against the railing with… Katie. Right, that's her name. "Oh, is she writing the scripts, too? She's the new lead on Good Little Girls."
"If only this were Clue…" A visibly nervous swallow follows Van nestling in on her railing, and Katie pointedly also turns, looking out over the cityscape rather than at the party. It's almost like she can't feel the heat of a thousand eyes on her, judging her, taking her apart… around the champagne glass' stem, her fingers twitch with itchiness. Tiny, imperceptible, dustmites of chemicals flaking off of her as her shoulders hunch self-consciously. "Don't they just airbrush all sides?" She speculates, not quite to the star, as she's glancing to the side, but, catching herself, she gives him a good, wide, stare, "I mean— I'm not saying. No— umm. Offense. No, it just… it's not a roaring thing. I barely hold a note. You're just part of the problem inherent in the system, if you get me."
"There's a system?" Van is not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer really. In fact, he's just kind of listens to whatever this nonsense is that's coming out of Katie's mouth, even if he doesn't quite understand it at all. "I was thinking it was more like a vile dictatorship of imperialist swine than a mere system." And there goes Van trying to use words he may not even really understand. "So I'm guessing you're not going to be at the after party, then?" He almost looks sad at this assumption. Pout.
"From what I heard, she was a script editor before they shoved her in front of the camera. A regular E! True Hollywood Story, that one." Everett chuckles and orders their drinks. A glass of wine fine enough that it shows off his wine knowledge without him saying he knows about wines, and another dry gin martini for himself. "So is this it, then? Just mingling? Sometimes these things turn into spectacle. Otherwise it ends up feeling a bit like an office party. Hardly worth shining the shoes for."
"Really now? Huh. Lucky girl, isn't she?" Jane eyes Katie speculatively for a moment. "She doesn't look like she's having much fun." A brow twitches at the wine order and she smiles at Everett. She… is not so much a wine connoisseur. But it sounds fancy. "Basically, an office party, yeah." It isn't as if Jane has been to many of these parties, until recently. "Though, sometimes there's a bit of a scandal to lighten things up. If we watch long enough, I imagine someone will slap Van sooner or later."
"The— what?" And Katie looks vaguely disturbed, "Why does there have to be a party to— celebrate that there was a party? I don't even— nevermind." Straightening by the push of her elbows from the railing, she swerves to face Van beside her. "I understand you're supposed to mingle and look agreeable at these sorts of things," all parts she's failing at, by the way. Made not even less so when she has to transfer her unsipped champagne from one hand to the other in order to offer Van the world's most random handshake, "So, consider me mingled. Now, go out there and get 'em!"
"Listen. Your Anti-Hollywoodism act may have everyone else fooled. But not me." Tilting his head to the side, he extends a hand to place a small piece of paper in hers. "There's something about you, Katie Callahan. And I'm gonna' find out what it is." He doesn't really shake her hand so much as he forces the paper with his number and address into her hand, before spinning off and grabbing another glass of champagne on his way back into the party.
Off to the side, Evelyn Stark is standing between the executive producers for both Nightlife and Good Little Girls. She's only somewhat listening to what they are talking about. Instead, she tilts her head and smiles thoughtfully at Van as he walks away from Katie. "… Hm."
"Of that I have no doubt," drawls Everett. "The only reason he gets away with it is because he's pretty. Once that goes, he'll just sound like a perver trying to be smooth. Oi," he shakes his head and swallows a mouthful of his martini. "Listen to me. I'm such a bitch sometimes. Truth is, if I didn't have hotshot actors to keep on a leash, I wouldn't have my bread and butter."
"Who knows," Jane muses as she watches Van walk away from Katie. "Maybe he'll be one of the lucky ones whose looks only seem to improve with age." It isn't unheard of at all, is it? "So long as he can keep himself from getting all dumpy around the middle. Though, if he plays his cards right, by that time, who'll care? He won't. He'll be well off for the rest of his days." She shrugs and sips her wine. "Ooh, this is very good. Brilliant choice, Everett."
What… what… Katie, stuck holding both the champagne, and now the card, inches awkwardly to one side than the other, but chasing after Van would be ridiculous, and inadvisable in these heels. Attempting to remain as discreet as possible, she glances — raises her eyebrow skeptically — at the address, then at her dress. No pockets. Of course there's no trashcans on the roof. In a fit of sudden timing, a waiter swings by the spot by the railing and, in a blur of awkward movements, Katie shoves the wrinkled paper into the full champagne glass and thrusts the glass onto the tray as it goes by her. Just a little cough, and general brushing of her hair by her ear sees her saunter calmly in a circle so as not to watch her handiwork bubble away back into the party.
Eat that, James Bond. Or… yeah. No.
Poor Van Dallas is oblivious to what has come of his offer of great partiness. In fact, he's oblivious to a lot of things because he's already decided to dive himself into a group of females that are huddled together around bottles of bubbly and one of the Nightlife banners. "Spoiler Alert." Van extends his arms to the side in his classic boytoy manner. "Van Dallas is right behind you." And into the pack of women he goes. Oh Van.
"The lives we don't lead," murmurs Everett to Jane. He looks amused, though. "I'm glad you like the wine. You go to enough of these dos and you start to discover what's worth drinking. I…" he looks up as he sees the tray with champagne and a…paper garnish go by. He looks back the way that the waiter came and spots Katie. He gives her a little smile and shakes his head. "I hope I'm not monopolizing you, dear. I'm sure there's networking afoot and all that."
The paper garnish catches Jane's eye, too, and she tracks its progress as it sails by on the tray. "No worries," Jane waves off his concern. "I don't mind being monopolized in the least. Though," frowning, her eyes scan for a clock, before she glances over at Everett. "What time is it? I'll have to go dig Van out of the pile of adoring fans to have our promotional shots snapped soon, I think."