Saturday, May 9, 2009. 10:30 PM

Outfit

It was Saturday night and Shamera Harvey was overseeing operations at The Underground.  The nightclub she owned was growing in popularity, but often she didn’t need to be there for it to run smoothly.  She had her own way of making her staff behave and make sure everything went as they should.  Tonight she was taking some time to relax. She did have another job, the job she quite possibly enjoyed most. The Underground was only the cover story.  Most nights, Shamera Harvey was a bounty hunter.

The past week had been hunting down some poor soul who owed a fair amount of money to one of the more well respected pureblood families.  Of course, they knew they could trust Shamera to do the job quietly and be confident they’d get their money.  She’d grown a reputation in dark alleys and whispers.  But anyone who hired her, and anyone who knew of her “other job” were bound to silence by her, and the fear she instilled in them.  The last thing she needed was the Ministry questioning her.  Then again, how could they possibly suspect the fiery red-head wearing a skin-tight dress and four-inch heels of being a bounty hunter?

But tonight, Sham didn’t need to worry about any of that.  It was a night for her to observe.  She enjoyed being around the large amount of people as they got sloshed and made decisions they might regret in the morning.  If help was needed, she’d jump behind the bar and help make drinks.  As it was Saturday though, she’d been well staffed.  The upstairs had two bartenders, and the basement had six.  More waiting upstairs, but faster service downstairs.  The perks of getting into the underground of The Underground.

Relaxing in her personal booth, she watched.  Future clients, or even someone she’d have to coerce for a client.  Shamera was good with information.  Memos carefully partitioned into her mind.  Names and faces just stuck.  It was definitely good in her line of business.  That and being good with spells.  Her spell-work definitely showed in The Underground.  Decorations, enhancements, soundproofing, and even the lighting had all been carefully worked on for months up to the opening of the nightclub.  Sham was quite proud of herself. 

As she looked around to admire her work she could feel someone’s eyes on her.  It was always a feeling that made her incredibly aware of her surroundings.  Too many nights in dark alleys and streets helped her recognize this feeling.  Sham sat up a little straighter in her booth and took a small sip of her drink.  ‘Let them come to me if they have to.’ she thought to herself.  If they had business, or just wanted to talk, Shamera would handle them the same until she knew their intent.  She would always start with caution.

James was trying to find a new favorite watering hole.  He was wearing his typical outfit, which consisted of semi-formal dress robes which were gray and had a small Falcon logo embroidered over his heart.    Even though the Black Chimaera had reopened- due to Cinaed's notoriety James could not afford to be seen going into a place like that given all of the recent attention he had.  He was hoping for a new place, but this one seemed a bit too...modern for his tastes.  Like all men, he judged the bar by the food it served and the price of its alcohol, and so far the steak was decent, though the liquor was overpriced.  He had finished though, and left a handful of gold and silver coins to cover the meal and tip.  Realizing that he still had a glass of firewhiskey, James decided to peruse the scenery.  Still, the moving throng of witches (and wizards - though James ignored them) had a few people he wanted to literally get on top of. 

Eventually, he noticed the girl in the skin tight dress.  While James would admit she was attractive, she was not as attractive as the girls James usually slept with.  Figuring that it would at least be worth the effort, James walked over to her, whiskey in hand.  Not really caring if he was doing a good Casanova impersonation or not, he asked "What is a girl like you doing alone on a Saturday night?" figuring that it was as good a way to test the water as any.  About as subtle as a body check on a broom, but a good way to get a feel for things.

Waiting for her response, James took another solid look at her.  He noticed that she had red hair.  Well, James was not completely ready to write this one off, but he made the mental adjustment in his head that it was highly probable.   Still, the girl in front of him had a decent rack, though James made sure to pay attention to her face from time to time, though it was quite obvious through his body language that he was willing, if she was looking for mister right-now.  If not, James would probably find someone else to take home.  Or maybe go to bed.  He usually wasn't such a night owl, but it was Saturday night and he did not have a game tomorrow.

When the gentleman approached her, she realized he was not, in fact, a gentleman, but just a man. Had Shamera been able to hear his thoughts, she would have called him a pig, not a man. While she did think men were only good for one thing (that wasn’t love), tonight was not a night she was looking for that. This man who looked like he’d already had a bit much decided to use one of the most cliche and boring lines on her. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a skeptical look.  Sham could call the bouncer over and get this guy out of her bar.  But she’d hold off... for now. Perhaps she could get some entertainment out of him.

“Oh, I’m not alone.  I’m with about a hundred of my closest friends.  Don’t you see them all?” She asked as she gestured with her hand about the crowd.  Sham gave him a bit of a smirk.

She supposed she could count them as friends.  Anyone that helps support her lifestyle was a friend of hers.  The man in front of her, holding a drink in his hand, had also given his money to her.  But he didn’t know that as of yet. But Sham normally enjoyed the nights whens he was not known as the owner.  But she did still have a booth that was always reserved for her when she was there.  A booth that oversaw pretty much everything in the room.  Prior to him coming up to her, she was fairly certain she noticed him eying, flirting with, and sometimes getting turned down by a fair amount of the other women in The Underground.  Of course, such was the norm for a lot of the males (and some females) in the club.  Shamera decided to continue her banter.

“And what brings you here tonight?  The selection of food and drinks, or the selection of women?  Surely there must have been others you approached before me.  Not to be down on myself, but I can count at least a dozen women here more beautiful than I.  Perhaps the blonde about to burst out of her dress who has also probably had more than she can handle over there?”

She pointed out said witch (who did seem to be wearing a dress two sizes too small for her top size), and then turned to the man.  This could be interesting.  Perhaps he would be confused.  Perhaps he would be intrigued by her pointing out the other women.  Shamera found that the easiest way to turn down a man was by feigning interest in the other team.  Then again, she did find women to be beautiful, and didn’t have to work too hard on that.  Though at the end of the night, she was still more interested in men.  But for now, she’d see how this encounter would turn out.

James knew the sentiment.  When James was with "a hundred of his closest friends" that usually meant he was doing some PR gig and was surrounded by media and the press.  Not that James did not realize the importance of such things to the sport, but he loved flying - not being paraded around like a stage animal.  After the FUBAR trade a couple months back, he was a bit more wary about spending too much time in the lime light.  Still, it was interesting that her boss let her work on the job.

"Ah - I know the feeling..." James commented, wondering what this girls position was.  He made a mental note of it, but decided that he really did not need to know the particulars of her employment.  Still, whatever his thoughts of her position, she threw him slightly off balance with her next line of questioning.  Still, figuring her blunt honesty deserved his, he replied in kind.  He was not picking up a lesbian vibe from her though, so he opened up friendly enough. 

"To answer your question, the steak actually.  Long story, I keep track of what I eat, and I need a fair amount of protein.  Unfortunately, this whiskey is the first & last one I can drink at least til tomorrow," James started, more amicable than a salesman who was about to retire.  He changed to a slightly more disciplined tone, and answered her other question,

"As for the blonde, I have no doubt that I could take her home.  But do you realize how boring sex is when your partner is that drunk?  Do not mistake me, I like the missionary position as much as everyone else - but I prefer my partners more lively.  I assume you do as well - or am I making a false assumption?" James gambled, seeing how she responded to that before trying anything else. 

Well, he still seemed interested.  But the more he talked, the more Shamera was becoming interested in him.  He didn’t quite seem like one of the usuals she had in the bar.  Then there was also something slightly familiar about him.  She’d most likely seen him before, but was having a difficult time placing him.  Sham would have liked to remember where she knew him. She normally would remember such things, but perhaps further conversation would help with that.

“Well, I do hope the steak was to your liking.  The cooks here are normally good with their meat.”

Perfect.  An innuendo pun.  And one she hadn’t thought about prior to it spilling out of her mouth.  Shamera laughed it off and listened as he continued.  The fact that he was being so unreserved about what he was talking about intrigued her.  It wasn’t often she met someone who would talk about such things in public.  Especially not with someone they just met in a nightclub.  Granted, she didn’t necessarily count herself as one of those normal people, but it was still entertaining to her.  Even when he asked her a question that was fairly private.

“Well, I suppose you’ve got a point.  A little flailing here and there doesn’t make for a fun time.  And I highly doubt she’d be conscious for that much longer. You get her home and it’s like game over.  Then you’re stuck with a dead fish in your bed til you can get her out.”  Sham was probably sharing a little too much information.  But he was doing the same and it didn’t seem like he would be bothered by it. 

“So, you got a name? Or do you prefer anonymity?” She decided to ask, and would share her identity if asked as well. “And you’re welcome to take a seat if you’d like.”

"The steak was good," James glibly said, completely missing the innuendo.  He would probably not come back to this particular club for the chef's culinary skills, but she did not need to know that.  Especially since she probably worked here.  Still, she was apparently perfectly willing to talk about sexual acts and habits, and James would be happy to talk about them (and maybe perform them later).

Describing a drunk girl in bed as a dead fish was not that far off a comparison, and James certainly took a few of those home from time to time.  He spoke his thoughts.

"You know, it is uncanny how accurate the comparison to a dead fish is.  I am glad to know I am not the only one that happens to," James said aloud. 

"I'll take the seat, though I apologize for being so rude.  Here we are, discussing carnal matters and I have not even give you my name.  My parents call me James.  Everyone else seems to call me something different depending on the situation, the most common being 'hey-you'," James offered his hand.  Though he had no doubt she could figure out who he was eventually, he decided to leave his profession and his last name out of his introduction.  James was keeping about as low a profile as he could (which was not very low unfortunately) and did not want to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

While waiting for the lady to either shake his hand or decline it, James asked another question.

"Since you seem to come here so often, what do you usually get here?  And as long as I have your attention, are the partners you pick up here...capable or not really?  Your the first one I have met that I did not need to explain that 'yes - Virginia - guys here want to $@#@ you' ." James said, somehow managing to naturally go from small talk to carnal matters.

Shamera accepted James’ hand as he took a seat.  He may be slowly changing her mind about her plans for the night.  He most definitely was different than the normal crowd of men that normally frequented The Underground. Of course, she also made a point to avoid those who frequented the club.  Coming across someone such as James was almost a gift from the normally quite sloshed guys, and tossed girls.

“A pleasure. My name is Shamera, though you can call me Sham if you wish. There are other names I go by, but if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” She gave him a wink.  He didn’t have to know she was really capable of doing such a thing.

“As for food, the salmon isn’t bad, nor is the quesadilla.” Of course, sometimes the food wasn’t as good, depending on the cook. “As for the other matters, some are. It really depends on... fish state or not. Trying to figure out the amount of alcohol they’ve had helps.  Some may seem like they wouldn’t know how, but with a little help, they’re not bad.”

As much as she knew she should refrain from picking up guys in her own bar, she couldn’t help it.  If a good looking guy was interested in her, she enjoyed it.  Just so long as they didn’t want anything more, Sham was good with it.  Of course, that’s just the opposite of what most other girls would be thinking.  But Sham was raised in a bit of a different environment, and didn’t believe in love.  She didn’t want to think of it, and preferred not to think of relationships either.

“And you seem like someone who knows the good from the bad.  Where do you find the good ones?”  If he was comfortable asking questions of such matters, she wouldn’t mind at all either.

As she described the other dishes here, James made note of it.  He would probably try the salmon, but quesadillas had a tendency to be too greasy unless he needed a large amount of fat as well as cheese.  It would be something to consider though, if he came back to this club.  As it was though, he was more concerned with the woman in front of him.

"The pleasure is all mine, Shamera," James did not yet feel comfortable calling someone he had just met a Sham, even if that was her nickname.  As he listened to her, he had the feeling that she had a number of the same problems he had, but could not help but begin to wonder which gender she pursued romantically.  For all James knew, it could be both but it sounded like the woman had at least attempted to woo the female gender a fair few times.  Wondering if there was anyway he could get himself invited (or at least invited to watch), James waited for an opening.  It never came, so James answered her question.

"To answer your question, there used to be a lot of nice catches at this place called the Black Chimaera.  Unfortunately, the bar tender is wanted by the ministry, and a guy like me cannot really go there anymore.  Be seen with a bunch of pretty women of questionable background you do not intend on marrying?  Sociably acceptable.  Hang out at a bar run by a known felon? Not so much.  If you ever do go there though, try the Sheperd's Pie.  It was my weight-gainer of choice for a while.  But as for where to find them now...I honestly do not know.  Keep in mind though, that I usually try to eat out on the weekdays, because I usually have to work on the weekends.  More people are usually out and about now than during the week,"

"Actually, that's kind of what brought me here tonight.  I've been looking for a new place like that but have not had much luck in finding one.  But enough about me.  What brought you here tonight?," James assumed she worked here, but she had not yet explicitly stated it one way or the other.

“Oh, yes. I have heard of the Black Chimaera. Been there a few times, but not sure I’ve had the pleasure of trying the Shepherd’s Pie.  I may have heard about the situation with the barkeep there.  Shame to hear, but if it’s helping my business, I can’t help but like that.”

She had known of the Tawse gentleman.  Shamera was fairly familiar with the majority of the shadier characters of Knockturn.  A lot of her other business came from them. Tawse seemed a decent guy, but the best part of being a criminal was the ability to avoid the law.  She’d done well so far, but slip ups do happen, and she had trained herself to avoid those to the best of her ability.

“Well, if you hadn’t had a guess yet, I’m often here.  Sometimes behind the bar, otherwise overseeing operations.” She could have just said she owned the place, but she’d leave it at that for now. “I’m glad you decided to try it here.  If it’s not exactly your cup of tea, I’d understand.  Everyone has their own tastes, and it seems this is the type of place that’s on the rise for the younger generations.  It’s done me pretty well so far.”

Whether or not it was acceptable for the owner of a place to be seen there often drinking was good or not, she didn’t care.  Shamera enjoyed the place she had created.  Of course, if she was seen often at other places, people would question her own establishment.  And it also gave her a good opportunity to see what people liked and didn’t like about the place. 

“And what kind of job do you have that’s mainly weekends? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” Sham did find him somewhat familiar, but perhaps his job could help her place him.

my buisness.  James smiled as heard the words.  That meant that she was probably the owner of this place.  That meant that she could not get into too much trouble if she went back to his place.  Which was his entire purpose of talking to her in the first place, but James had not yet determined whether or not she was a lesbian.  As she described her varying roles further, James confirmed his suspicions.  If she was not the owner, then she was at least a manager of some kind, most likely covering whoever needed help that evening.  After she asked him about his job, James broke into a broad grin.  Quidditch always cheered him up.

"Not at all.  I am a professional seeker.  That's why I'm usually out during the week, after practice.  Our coach would make us practice longer, but league regulations prevent him.  It gives me enough time to sleep in.  Still, any night I am not reviewing omnocular film, I am generally out and about having fun.  I'd be lying if I said I did not have the best job in the world," James spoke, his enthusiasm increasing the tempo of his words.

"Unfortunately, my profession does require a bedtime.  And unless you care to join me, I need to get going soon.  Before I do though, what would you say to a friendly wager?" James asked, seeing where this went.