#( belle's landline 🤝 danny's flip phone )

[therosepetalrps]

『✣』 Belle's face was red, then blue, then green, then orange, and red again — bathed in the neon glow of the lights dancing around the club's entrance. Above the door, a sign screamed "THE PARROT CLUB" in more buzzing strips of light, accompanied by a likeness of its namesake, beak turned skyward and wings slightly spread. She could hear the jackhammer beat of music from inside, muffled like a radio submerged in water.

It was not so squalid as she'd envisioned; no cigarette butts carpeting the pavement, no broken glass crunching beneath her feet, no showers of stale piss on the corner walls. The place's sordid heart was wrapped in clean packaging. It was all in the implication, the playful enticement of the flashing neon lights — as 'come hither' as a woman fluttering her lashes.

Before she could lose her mettle, Belle planted both hands on the heavy door and pushed her way into the abyss.

Abyss — as it turned out — was the precise word to use. It was so dark, it was disorienting. She blinked away the neon-coloured spots in her vision as her eyes adjusted. The music was louder now and the air smelled of heavy perfume and pungent alcoholic concoctions.

Belle cupped her hands against her temples like horse blinders and slipped through the shadows. She was able to move through the club with relative ease, dodging patrons and cocktail waitresses who towered above her in seven-inch platform stilettos. Her fear that she'd stick out like a sore thumb was unfounded. She was wearing entirely too much to be a woman worth looking at.

So, in her soft blue cardigan and sensible stockings, she barreled forward into the belly of the beast. Keeping her hands locked in place to block out any sight she deemed too unsavoury, she scanned the club for a clue as to where to find its owner. Did he watch his own shows? Did he drink at his bar? Did he make his rounds to read the riot act to the staff? Or did he stay hidden away in some backroom office, a king who did not demean himself to mingle with the peasants?

Devine left the library and basically fled back to his place of business. The idea he barred himself and allowed himself to be barred from a public building was getting to the man. Well, more truthfully, the woman who ran the place was getting to him. It would be a long and headache of a week for the club owner. His schedule would be ruined without his planner to go by, but he wouldn't dare go back to get it. No, instead he was ready to pay the woman back for her behavior. Danny was still going to do what he had said; he got a few men and women from his club to pack up the old inventory. 

When they asked about the situation, he simply told them about a proper tax right off to help the club out when it came to next year. No one rightly questioned it, if it meant better pay down the line. Of course he'd need to send some paper work with the inventory, but he figured the woman might be a class act at some point and get them signed back to him. 

The day the first call came in, the man was preparing his agenda and making certain he hadn't lost anyone in the chaos of starting over. He didn't answer the phone the first time and let it go as he was working. It didn't register who it could be, but the man noted the area code, which made him understand it was local. Nothing really seemed to fit into place as the days went on. It was some of the girls in the club that noticed Danny was sticking to home more than usual. As if he was afraid to leave the club for some god-awful reason. 

When the calls kept coming in, the man realized someone was leaving messages with them. His brow raised at the idea someone was so eager to get ahold of him. That wasn't like his usual lot of business; this had to be personal. Devine didn't do well with personal; he wasn't answering the phone. He didn't want to know who was on the other side. 

{Danny - Fuck off whoever this is; I do not want your fuckin' solicitation!!!}

He thought that would be the end of it, but a few more calls came, and he was getting paranoid. It didn't register in him that the woman was doing all the calling. If anything, he figured she would have tossed all the stuff out and was living her life as she had before he met her. So why did he feel like something bad was going to happen? Why was he so anxious to leave his club and venture out into the world away from his safe place of work?