tampered | [OPEN LOG] A LITTLE PARTY NEVER KILLED NOBODY

Entry tags:

boardwalk empire - al capone

[OPEN LOG] A LITTLE PARTY NEVER KILLED NOBODY

When; July 4th after this
Rating; Links are NSFW due to language and sexy hooker flashmobs. Other than language, situations shouldn't get above PG-13.
Characters; It's a party-- come one, come all!
Summary; Surprise birthday party for Meyer Lansky. Everyone is welcome!
Log;

Lucky's casino is busy as usual on Thursday, but those inside will notice that the stage normally reserved for entertainment is shrouded in a large curtain. The owner is seated, prepared to listen to the audition of a buxom blond who seems shy and has no real command over the stage. After a deep breath, she begins to sing in a voice barely above a whisper:

"Happy birthday to you~"

Before she can really get into the meat of the song, the curtain rises to reveal an unusual spectacle. Women of all sizes and shapes dressed comfortably in next to nothing. Those inside the casino can see them make a musical entrance. They seem to dote especially on the owner, who appears to be hoisted in his seat by two beefy men in shiny speedos. They carry him closer to what appears to be a cake.

It's not.

The exterior slips away revealing a mounted pole and another woman who has no problem steadying her stilettos on the arms of the chair the owner is being held captive in from time to time.

Looks like it's SOMEONE'S BIRTHDAY

All varieties of business continue as usual after the reveal. The women and men will flirt with anyone who has the means to earn their attention. There's even a new racehorse to the circuit being promoted out back! Come evening, patriotic Americans launch fireworks into the night sky. So come! There's good company, gambling, drinks and dancing-- eat, drink and be merry in honor of the holiday and Meyer Lansky's birthday!

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The birthday boy is a little baffled. Maybe a lot baffled would be a better way to put it. He keeps staring around the casino, taking in the spectacle, but none of it quite makes sense. Where did all of this come from? How did they keep it secret for so long? And, most importantly, why?

He looks around desperately for Al or Theo, trying to find an explanation, but no matter where he looks, there's just more to see -- more women wearing practically nothing, specifically, which is remarkably distracting. "What..." he begins to ask, then shakes his head. That question doesn't seem to make a whole lot of sense.

"Why did... how..."

These questions are posed to anyone who can answer them, whether they're his employees (who he's going to have to have a word with), his guests, or the... hired entertainment themselves. The expression on his face is nothing short of befuddled.

They're very good at keeping secrets Meyer. Now you'll never be able to trust them again! MWAHAhhaa... um.

Theo sidles around some people, who do make way for him, to get to the stunned Meyer. He's projecting creepy a little to give him room, but he tones it down when he gets next to his stunned boss.

"You okay?" he asks, concerned. Only mildly.

One half of the duo can be found near the back talking excitedly to three of the girls. It takes him a moment to notice Meyer standing there, but when he does Al is all smiles.

"Really pulled the wool over your eyes huh, chief?"

And they did a damn fine job of it judging from the look on the birthday boy's face. He's clearly very proud of that.

"I'm..."

He looks around again, completely baffled. In fact, he seems to be lost for words, which is rare for someone so normally eloquent, even in the most trying of situations. He can handle being held at gunpoint. He can handle tense meetings with just about anyone. He can handle drug deals. What he can't handle, seemingly, is a spectacle like this.

"A little surprised."

That's putting it mildly.

"Yeah, that's... certainly one way to put it."

His face still hasn't quite lost its expression of confusion. There's the obvious question of why they set all of this up, but then there're other questions, too. How had they managed to do it without him knowing anything about it? Is this why they had forced him to go back to his apartment the previous night rather than sleep at the casino? He scratches his head, then frowns.

"Was this your idea?"

Al seems like a likely suspect.

"Good! We did our job right then!" Theo's happy about this.

Admittedly, it's a little bit more gaudy than he would have liked, but then again, it really is a show and spectacle. And they needed lots of girls. And... okay. There's no really excusing anything, is there.

"But... why?"

Of course, he understands that it was all arranged for his birthday, but as someone who almost never celebrates his birthday, much less has parties, this is all exceptionally over the top. He has to give them some credit -- they'd hidden the party planning well; he hadn't suspected a thing.

Now, however, the entire casino has become filled with women, and glitter, and music, and he's not really sure what he should be looking at first. Or whether he should be giving Theo a lecture.

"For your birthday!" Theo says, stating the obvious.

He leans on the back of a chair and flicks some glitter out of his hair.

"We wanted to surprise you with something big."

"Well, this was certainly... big," he agrees, shaking his head again. Strange, he'd've thought something big might have involved a cake, maybe a couple presents -- hideous tie that Theo had gifted him aside -- maybe some drinks.

This takes big to a whole new level; the ridiculous level. He can't decide whether he's upset, amused, or a little of both, but he knows he's still confused. Deeply.

They've got cake! Don't worry. It's in back for later.

"Maybe a bit too much glitter," Theo says thoughtfully, flicking more glitter out of his hair. With his pale skin he'll end up looking like a sparkle-pire.

"Any glitter is too much glitter."

Although it shouldn't be missed that his eyes do linger on one of the scantily clad women who's also covered in quite a bit of glitter. Sorry, Theo, but she looks better in glitter than you do.

"I need a drink."

Theo thinks she looks better in glitter than he does. Especially since he knows he'll end up looking like a sparkle-pire.

"I'll get you something. What do you want?"

"Vodka."

Yes, straight vodka. In fact, if he didn't think it would look ridiculous, he'd just ask Theo to hand him a bottle. He's going to need it, to get through this party. He loosens his tie a little, feeling uncomfortably overdressed all of a sudden -- perhaps that's simply a result of the fact that nobody else is wearing much, employees aside, of course.

Like a good lackey, Theo saunters off to get a bottle of vodka and a glass. He figures that Meyer's going to need more than just one drink. Also that if he does drink enough he might loosen up a little.

He's a bad person and gets just a coke for himself.

Loosen up? He's not familiar with the idea. At least, not generally. Alcohol helps, occasionally, but even then, he's far more uptight than the average person. Still, he gives Theo a little nod of thanks when he returns with the bottle and the glass, and pours himself a generous drink.

"I guess I should be thanking you guys for this... event."

He sounds unsure.

It has to be said, Jim goes in with the best (or pretty good, at least) intentions. Casinos on Earth aren't unfamiliar to him after wasting odd weekends in San Francisco, decidedly off-campus, and he knows they're usually packed with enough interesting clientele to turn heads anywhere else. This place looks fancy, and he heads inside with his gold shirt folded and stuffed under the back of his short-sleeved black top to remain slightly less memorable.

He doesn't intend to drink and even if he had the cash, he wouldn't, skimming the faces there where he hangs back in the shadows. Everyone else is rowdy enough to let him go unnoticed on the eaves of the festivities, thank God. And, well. It's been a short eternity since he appreciated the way the ladies winding around those poles manage to move, finding himself watching a shade longer than necessary.

"Who's Meyer Lansky?" he asks one of the servers, glancing away as best he can from the blonde deciding to do the splits in his direction. Unfortunately, the waitress is harried and gets shuffled on by another, far flashier patron, leaving Jim wondering where to get some answers from next.

Right, he thinks in resignation. Who looks like a 'Lansky' ...

Theo's father can be like that at times. Hence his uncle getting little Theo to streak into office meetings. This is sort of like that, right? Right?

"Sure you could do that, yeah." Better than firing them. Or yelling.

If Jim's assuming that this Lansky guy is someone who knows what he's doing, he'll be sadly disappointed. Meyer's still kind of standing in a corner, trying to avoid the majority of the chaos, looking around himself occasionally like he can't imagine what he's doing here or what's going on. Despite being the owner of the casino, things have never gotten quite this exciting. It's usually just cards, maybe some light entertainment.

There's a drink in his hand -- not his first, and it won't be his last, since drinking seems to be about the only option here. He hears Jim's question, though, and lifts his chin in response, indicating that he's the guy Jim's looking for, although he doesn't say anything, maybe because he's still too confused by the whole scene to come up with anything clever to say. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, and that's one thing he can be grateful for in this ridiculous birthday scheme: maybe the casino'll make some decent profits.

"Well, then, thank you."

It comes out a bit stilted, but it's an attempt at appreciation, anyway. It must have cost Al and Theo a considerable amount of money to...

He pauses, a horrible idea suddenly occurring to him.

"You used your own money for this, yes? Not the casino money?"

When he double-takes the nod, he has to wonder if he's about to be offered contraband because the man he walks toward looks nothing like the person in his head (someone gaudy and cheap, thrilled by the dancing girls). No, he finds himself making a note to find out whether bankers sell drugs.

He hitches up a brief smile.

"Mr. Lansky? This is quite the party."

Jim wouldn't be wrong about wondering if he sells drugs, although Meyer's no banker -- good with numbers, true, with a particular fondness for money and accounting, but he channels all of that through the casino.

He smiles back, although it's not exactly a comfortable smile. He's trying his best to adjust to what he sees as uncontrolled mayhem, but it's not easy; he's not exactly a party guy. "Yeah, that's me," he says, shrugging. "But I can't take credit for the party."

"As much as I'd like to take credit for all of it, the guys in Tarzan's underwear were Theo's idea."

A shrug. Your guess is as good as his on this one, Meyer.

"The cake too. But the other stuff, sure, blame it on me."

Of course. The most ridiculous, over the top, bizarre elements were Theo's idea. It all stands to reason, really. He's always had Theo pegged as the kind of guy who has a strong appreciation of the ridiculous and strange.

"I'd ask you what gave you this idea, but I'm not sure I want to know your thought process."

He does, actually, very much want to know Al's thought process. As far as he knows, he'd never given any indication that a bunch of scantily clad, dancing women were something the casino was lacking.

"Had to come in and see what all the fuss was about. Gotta say, you look like you'd rather be enjoying the night air than cooped up."

Letting his attention purposefully wander over the nearby girls, he glances back with the air of snagging an after-thought.

"Jim, by the way," he says congenially, offering a hand. "Jim Kirk."

"Nice to meet you." He shakes Jim's hand firmly, polite as always, despite the extenuating -- and distracting -- circumstances. Jim's a potential customer, after all, and his own confusion and vague discomfort shouldn't prevent him from being a good host at his own casino.

"Yeah, well, it was a surprise. I thought it was gonna be business as usual tonight."

Business as usual, his tone implies, doesn't involve any of this.

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[OPEN LOG] A LITTLE PARTY NEVER KILLED NOBODY

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Hope you don't mind the birthday boy himself!

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Not at all!

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