White Girls Can Spin


Carlton_icon.gif Penny_icon.gif Moxie_icon.gif Francis_icon.gif

Summary: Just another day at the demon strip club brings in some new talent but not for the poles. A young waitress is given a hard time to boot!

Date It Happened:February 04, 2002 (Game time)

White Girls CAN Spin


Regulars of this building would know that it used to be called The Laugh Track, but now it continues to look abandoned. Somewhat of an abandoned looking building, the only catch is the doberman looking man that seems to be seated on the steps of this building on a regular, nightly basis. If one manages to get past this 'bouncer', then they'll have the luxury of entering the delicious foray into the life of Caritatas.

Unlike some nightclubs of a singing badly nature, no metal detector is needed. A magical spell to keep violent actions and fighting under control has been cast over the club… an idea stolen by other clubs that shall remain (mostly) nameless. A safe haven for humans and demons alike, Caritatas' owner insists that the only hitting allowed is the smacking of curvy bottoms. Which makes this whole building make that much more sense.

A combination of smoke, booze and naked bodies seems to have overtaken the majority of the building. It's decorated as nicely as a strip club can be, with pictures of half-naked women all over the place, a huge bar in the corner and a stage that dominates the majority of the club. Swallowed by a sea of tables and chairs, which are normally filled with males of all types… human or demonic. At any given time, some buxom hottie (again, human or demon) can be found performing sensual, sexual and just plain hot as hell dancing that results in the loss of clothes.

Have Fun.


Midday is usually a good time to check out places that you may or maynot know if they contain things that look at you like you're an appetizer. And so, with her iPod earphones in and her messenger's bag over her shoulder Penny makes her way to the club she was told about, Caritatas. A card from the promoter that mentioned the place to her is shown at the door and she waits for the strange looking bouncer to allow her admittance to the club to speak to The Man.

"So then I TRIED to do something good for the man, right? Here I go, TRYING to give him some chicken! And he goes off on me, right? Come talkin' 'bout why I gotta' be givin' him some chicken! Why he gotta' be lovin' chicken! Cuz he black?! And I go? NEGRO PLEASE! I'M BLACK TOO! FROM BLACK MAN TO BLACK MAN… YOU WANT SOME CHICKEN!" And this is Carlton. The Man. He's over at the bar, talking to whatever bartender is on duty this midday. There's some laughter as he automatically goes into his crazy comedic routine.

And Frank, well. He's prety much the personification of stuffed suit. Like he's just a businessman here on the lunchbreak. There's that sour, determinedly unimpressed expression on his face, like he strayed in from parochial school. Really, in a sense, he did. He's got a little booth off in a dark corner, not much of a view of the stage.

Penny raises her eyebrows, more readily displaying the colorful eyeshadow that decorates her this day as she approaches. A bit of a grin forms on her lips as she pulls the earbuds out and lets them dangle around her neck as she approaches the bar and leans her elbows against it. "Hey.. everybody likes chicken, right?" she interjects and looks over to Carlton. "Lookin for the owner here. Got a hot tip that they might be in dire need of a music maven and viola.. here I am. Know where I might find 'em?" she asks and slides into a seat at the bar, shifting the messenger bag on her shoulder over as she does. Her eyes catch the lone businessman over in the corner. Just barely the shadows doing a good job of concealing him. It's inobtrusive the way she cases out the joint, making note of exits and people. Girl can't be too careful after all.

"Oh no you didn't! No this white girl ain't come up in here talkin' 'bout everybody lovin' chicken! It's YO FAULT that black people love chicken in the first place! Passin' it down to us as slaves! And then, does it stop there? OH NO! It's only the beginnin'! Collard greens! Yams! Macaroni and cheese! Just all the scraps! Just pass it on down to the black folks! They'll eat anything! Oh and don't forget the watermelon!" But, somewhere in the middle of this rant is the great knowledge that she's here inquiring about the job. "Wait. Did you just say you want the DJ position?!" Carlton blinks and then busts out laughing! It takes him a moment to catch himself and he finally wipes at his eyes. "Girl, you crazy! You ain't got no rhythm! You white!"

Francis is now watching Carlton like he's the floor show, one hand curled loosely around the bottom of his drink glass. It's something pale and cloudy. He's actually ignoring the performers onstage, who are moving in ways that indicate their joints, at least, are not human.

Penny isn't offended as she listens, her grin just grown fractionally. "Oh I get it.. so the smack talking goes both ways huh? You play a race card on food, which by the way.. chill man you're makin me hungry. I'd sell my left eye to be fed that good.. but then" She holds up a finger and wags her head a bit, neck swayin' "-Then- you go and make assumptions about me." She makes a face and holds up her palm towards him "Pshhhh" That's right. She just unknowningly gave the owner the old 'talk to the hand' signal. "I lay beats so hot they'd burn those cheap azz shoes you got on. If you don't know you better rec'inize." White girl got game.

Moxie makes her way out into the main area dressed in her entirely-inappropriate-for-a-fifteen-year-old-but-be-glad-she's-not-a-stripper-at-least waitressing get up. The bangs still swept so artfully over one eye, she has the rest of her hair pulled back in a twist to keep it out of the way, and her platform soles add several inches to her height. She rolls her eyes a little as she catches sight of Carlton on another one of his rants, but she doesn't start drifting over in the direction, curious to see just what's got him going this time.

"…. What the HELL did you just say? Cuz I ain't understand you behind all the BET you soaked up? We don't even talk like that!" Carlton waves his hand around, though doesn't really seem to be actually mad. He's just going off. "Aight. You talkin' a good game, let's see what you got!" And he's pushing away from the bar and heading off towards where the DJ Booth is located, while looking down at his shoes. "And this shoes ain't cheap! You know how much these damn things cost?! I gotta' pay for them, the leather, the little chinese bastards that're makin' 'em…"

Francis snorts to himself, with the lazy amusement of a lion basking on a rock. Carlton and Penny are definitely better entertainment than what he's nominally paying for. And then he sights Moxie, and there's displeasure written on the craggy features. Jesus. She looks like Jodie Foster in 'Taxi Driver'

Penny has apparently encountered this sort of reaction before and her grin stays in place. Eyes shift as the waitress enters. She's not terribly surprised. She's seen it and if not for other circumstances that coulda been her at one point. She watches Carlton as he goes for a moment before lazily slipping off the bar stool and following, her messenger bag opened to pull out her larger, padded headphones. A job requirement. There might be some in the booth but she prefers her own. Better sound. She glances at those shoes as she steps into the booth and grins, tossing a wink "Well after I make this place jumpin and the dosh starts rollin in maybe you can sweet talk the owner into givin you a raise." She looks over the equipment and grins. Ahhh, just like comin' home. Some vinyl is pulled from her bag and set on the console before she scopes the set up a bit more, noting the turn tables and decks. Headphones jacked in, one ear only covered she smiles as her fingers begin working over the equipment. "Everyone knows Italian is better." A record is put on the table and she waits for the current track on the programmed CD player to wind down before she gets to it, getting things in order for her debut in Caritatas. CD chosen and slipped in, paused. Turntable powered up. And last but not least a stick of gum pulled out of the bag and popped in her mouth, beginning to chew.

Moxie leans back against the bar, watching as Carlton and some chick head for the DJ booth. New hire? She arches an eyebrow, quite blatantly considering the woman for a long moment, before shrugging indifferently. The thought occurs to her that maybe she should actually do some work, so she straightens up and turns to survey the area. Which is when she notices Francis eyeing her with such clear displeasure. Not that she's thrilled to see him either. She gives him a flat look like she's just daring him to say something here.

Francis doesn't say anything. If anything, he grins, slowly, and motions her over. Someone has apparently decided to be a jerk about the whole thing.

So. This is where things are going to get down to business. Carlton doesn't seem to be too worried about anything but his equipment. "You break my stuff, White Chocolate, you buy it!" He doesn't know the first thing about DJing, but he does know he'll be able to hear if it's good or not. After all, he's black. He's got soul. And this is a club that's in dire need of something to keep the crowd jumping when there isn't some demon chick showing off her Caritatas…

Penny raises her eyes to Carlton and winks. "Chill baby.. I got this on lock." she reassures as the sing winds down and she starts working her magic. Fingers move over the console as she spins the tune, pressing a button here and there, hips moving and head bobbing as she does a smashup of a popular rap hit and a electric funk house tune. The two blending seamlessly as she bobs her head, hand reaching over to pull back the record once in a while to add licks of some scratching in between the beats. Those eyes flash over to Carlton playfully. Confidence? This chick's got loads of it. Lights are added in, a button pushed to sync them up with the tune, bathing the stage and dancefloor in multi colored strobes and flashes of the white strobe here and there. Multi-tasking, thy name is DJ.

Moxie narrows her eyes at Francis, but she does begin to drift over in that direction, albeit she's taking her sweet time. She casts a glance back over at the DJ booth to see how things are going over there. And then back to Francis once she's close enough - or at least what she deems to be close enough. "/What/." She rests her elbow casually on the bar and gives her hair a toss so that her bangs sweep back and then fall right back in front of her eye again.

At least Francis refrains from the sort of looking over men usually favor women with in these sorts of places. "Are you even old enough to work here?" he wonders, patiently, glancing past her at Penny, narrowing his eyes at the strobing.

Carlton just watches and listens at the same time. He's a little frowny faced when the light show hits, because he never thought of his strip club as some kind of rave joint… but he can work that out of her, probably. Right now, though, the most important thing is paying close attention to what's going on. And that's enough for him. Well, not really. He is bobbing his head a little bit and because he's black, he can't stop his foot from tapping.

Penny already has the preprogrammed CD player ready to take back over as the song winds down. After all it's just a taste not the full monty. She's gotta get paid to give that up. And though she slips her headphones off and rests them over her neck she doesn't really make a move to leave the booth. It's where she's most comfortable after all. "So whatcha think Soul Food? Think the Boss Man might dig that?" she asks as she leans a hip against the console and blows a bubble with her gun, sucking it back in as she nods to the beat of the generic song playing.

Moxie continues looking flatly at Frank, unflinching even as she ever so dishonestly replies with a deadpan, "Yes." But there's come a certain caution to her watchfulness now, and even as things seem to be doing something over at the DJ Booth, she doesn't take her eyes off the man now. Stupidly, of course, she doesn't seem cowed.

"You got ID?" Francis says, casually. He stretches an arm along the top of the booth, and eyes her, still with that distant amusement. Like all this is prelude to some serious torment.

For the record, Caritatas ain't exactly an Over 18 club so much as it's a Don't Tell Humans That Can't Handle It club. So asking for ID may or may not be a lost cause. Anyway, there's nothing really to be handled by Carlton except for the question that's being asked. He makes a so-so motion with his hand. "You did alright. I guess you're hired." Flashing a smile, Carlton offers a hand to Penny for shaking. "Carlton Butler. The Boss."

Penny tilts her multi-colored hair as he says she did alright and then tells her she's hired, not really understanding what he's getting at. That is until he introduces himself and she pauses just a split second in her gum chewing before breaking into a big smile and taking that hand, shaking it. "Penny Layne… DJ, Funkmeister, and inflicted with serious foot-in-mouth syndrome." she introduces herself. "When can I start?" Never one to miss a beat.

"Do you?" Moxie returns to the cop, before gesturing just a little suggestively down at her … lack of an outfit, really. "Where exactly d'you expect me to fit a wallet," she points out, straightening up enough to do a slow turn for his benefit. She's been spending too much time around strippers, maybe.

There is a distinct lack of the appropriate appreciation in Frank's face. Spent too much time in vice to be moved, perhaps. He flicks at the lapel of his jacket - the badge is visible for an instant at his waist.

"Tonight. You start tonight because I don't have anybody else." Carlton remarks, before turning to head back towards the bar. Where there is booze. He needs booze. It tastes delicious. Not to mention the fact that he just hired a crazy colorful white girl to be the DJ for his strip club. This is going to be a very interesting concept to try and deal with, now isn't it?

Penny releases Carlton's hand after the handshake and smiles from ear to ear. "You won't be disappointed. I can even whip up some hot licks for the gals. Gotta be better'n gyratin all around to the same thing all the time." she tosses in and grips her headphones with her hands and slips them off to set them on the console. Her bag is left on the floor at her feet as she notes his gaze and nods toward the bar. "How 'bout we celebrate with a drink. My treat ya know.. since you lucked out in gettin the best DJ on the West Coast and all."

Moxie glances down at the badge and then back up at Frank with an unimpressed look. "So? I'm not drinking," she points out, her eyes narrowing as she takes a half-step back. "You wanna breathalizer me?" She spreads her arms wide as if showing she's unarmed somehow proves she's also sober. Thankfully for the joint, she actually hasn't had anything to drink (yet).

He's really not here for vice. Apparently just here to give Moxie grief. "Are you even sixteen?" he says, and then Frank immediately assumes the expression of a man who realizes he really, really doesn't want to know the true answer to that question.

"Oh NOW you wanna' buy a brotha' a drink? Before I was ya' boss, you was all EAT THE CHICKEN and now you all T-Pain and tryin' to Buy Me A Drink! You ain't gotta' treat because this is my club! And in MY club! I get to drink MY alcohol for the low, low, low, low price of MINE!" And by the time this mini-rant is over, his glass has been picked up and he's holding it above his head to toast nobody. Downing it quickly, he slams it on the bar and ahhhhhhs! "See? Didn't cost me a dime!"

Penny just laughs as she hears the mini-rant, feelin out the boss already. She holds up her hands in a show of mock surrender and follows him down. She nods to the bartender and orders a rum and coke as she listens. Non-plussed she looks to Carlton a moment "Hey.. I still say the chicken is good. Only thing My Mom ever cooked was a can of pork n beans or a frozen dinner, ya know?" Her eyes drift over to where the man in the booth sits with the waitress standing in front of him. From this distance it looks like they are just chatting though the spread arms has her brow quirking.

Moxie arches an eyebrow. "I'm thirty-nine," she replies, since if you're going to tell a bald-face lie to a police officer, it should probably be a really obvious one, right? It makes sense to her. "We done here?" She glances back over her shoulder as Carlton and Penny arrive at the bar.

Frank can't help but laugh, and waves her off. "Get me a gimlet, then," he says, simply.

"Girl! Get yo' ass on the tables! I gotta' go let the juice loose, if you know what I'm sayin'!" This is very random and because Carlton is just that kind of rude boss. He's turning to disappear towards the backstage door. He stops at the end of the bar and points back at Penny. "Find out her name. And watch her. She's white. I don't trust her ass!" And then, he's gone!

Penny laughs and shakes her head as the Boss Man leaves, rising form her seat to head back to the booth. Nobody to call. No other plans really made for the night. She has no where else she'd really rather be. Walking toward the booth she passes by Moxie and Franky, glancing over at him and finally seeing him a bit more clearly. An involuntary shiver running down her spine. Men that carry themselves like that are never good news. Either mob muscle or cops. Ducking her head a bit she quickens her step a little to the stairs that lead up.

Moxie just rolls her eyes as orders start flying at her. She tosses off a sarcastic salute once Carlton is not too likely to see her, before nodding at Frank's order. "Sure." She'll do that first because attitude or not, she'd rather not end up arrested again. "Welcome to the team," she tosses out rather indifferently towards Penny as she rushes by. Eih, she'll find out her name later, she decides, instead heading over to put in Frank's order.

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