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xmm_vic
xmm_vic
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July 2006
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xmm_vic [userpic]
Got a number..from a cop? WTF!!??

Well got back from going out tonight, took the bike out this time, god it's fucking cool to have it working again. Went to a fucking cowboy bar in New York. Now I've been known to line dance and I don't have the coordination that god gave a flea but hell at least I can do it better than those city bozo's. Hell Tommy I even got the number of a chick, a fucking cop if you can believe it dude! She's not the normal sveltte chicks I used to hook up with back at ASU but least she can talk, ya know, english.

Drove back to the apt, then back into Broklyn and picked up Jacob. Tommy you have no idea how much nicer it is to drive Avy's mercedes than it is my old Honda, thing flew like a bat out of hell I'm surprised I didn't get picked up. Anyways Grampy picked on me for getting a number but not boinking her. And no, I am so not going to try to write out yiddish on this thing.

Jacob had a good time, looks like him and some of the cousins went outside and played in the back yard. It's so unlike AZ dude, I forgot what green looks like, it's amazing man. Anyways dude Jake's out of the tub time to get him into his jammies and well ya know.

Late dude, btw give anyone ya want this LJ man, gunna fuck with the myspace thing in a bit as well.


The Rowdy Wrangler
The smell of sandlewood and beer is the first things to strike the senses as you mowsy on into this bar. The next is the sounds of enjoyment coming from all around you, from the drunken cowboys on the second level of the bar, or the cheers and jeers of the customers watching as a patron tries to break a new record on the mechanical bull. The bar is long, stretching across the back wall with a picture of John Wayne in the center and horseshoes decorating the area around it. The air is filled with the sounds of Country music and more than one cowboy hat can be seen bobbing around in the place. There's plenty of room to sit, or if you fancy a line dance, the large dancefloor is off to the right.
[Exits : [O]ut ]

Regan wouldn't have normally come here, not quite her kind of place, but two words: Disaster Date. The other half of said disaster has already left, leaving the cop by the bar shaking her head and sipping occasionally from a beer she's nursing, clearly not intending to get drunk any time soon.
[Newbies] Helper Percy has disconnected.

A low rumble from outside, then sharper for a moment and silence as someone kills the engine to some large motorcycle most likely. Several minutes later a decently large man enters in, clad in a black worn motorcycle jacket and carrying a matt black helmet in his arm. Five o'clock shadow seems to be the best way to describe him from his shaved head to his stubbley chin. With quick steps passing by some drunken city cowboy with /spurs/ of all things he sits next to the woman with an empty stool next to her. He puts down his helmet, and waves his hand catching the attention of the bartender and orders himself a large cold draft.

And great. Another guy sits down next to her. To start with, the dark-haired woman doesn't even look at him, but rather stares into her drink, her focus on it absolutely. She's practically radiating 'don't hit on me' right now.
The man sitting next to her glances briefly at the severely dressed woman, shrugs and accepts his beer from the bartender. With a smirk he probes the bartender on why exactly is there a cowboy bar in New York? The reply is rather short version of shut up and drink prick, gotta love New York hospitality.

Regan shakes her head. "Because people in New York have no clue what cowboys even are, and thus romanticize them along with, say, astronauts," she finally supplies, turning to regard the guy who's accent reveals that he might have more of a clue.

Chuckling a bit to himself, and with a rough masculine John Wayne, well bad John Wayne impression expounds with, "I think if they saw a horse other than the ones the cops ride they'd just turn tail like yella cowards little lady." This is said deadpan, his face hard. A smirk plays at the edges of his mouth and he laughs in spit of himself. "Names Vic, and ya I don't think I've seen so much glitz in a cowboy bar since watching old Ronny Regan movies on reruns."

Regan laughs. "This is New York. Most people here don't know which end of the horse you give the carrots to. Not that I'd be much better myself." A pause. "Regan," she introduces, finally.
"Take it you're from around here?" he raises one hand to gesture vaguely to the city; with the other he takes hold of his drink and quaffs a drink.

Regan nods. "Queens, to be precise." Not Manhattan. But certainly not far away, either. Her accent would give it away anyway. She sips more of her beer.

A wry grin, "Why are you in a cowboy bar Regan from Queens, a chance to line dance with silly gits wearing spurs for christs sake?" he snickers a bit at the end of his question.

Regan snorts a bit. "Because my date didn't tell me where we were coming. And then became my ex-date in short order. Some men just aren't worth the effort." And that one's on the Regan Scrapheap.
Vicktor nods at Regan agreeing with the statement. "Course some women are as well, personally lately I've been thinking most of the world fits in that remark. I just can't figure out where is all." He smirks at the end to ensure he doesn't look like he's being snide.

Regan shrugs a little bit. "Maybe. I think I'm just going to give up dating again," she adds. "I seem to have a knack for picking winners." That last is somewhat sour.

Vicktor laughs to himself. "Just moved here, was going to take up dating again, been on a dating sabbatical for the last two." He takes another pull from his frosty mug. "Ya that made sense, two years I mean." his looks around seeing mostly drunk men and very few play cowgirls in attendance.
Regan snorts a bit. "Just took it back up myself. Having no better luck than I did before." She does sound sour, doesn't she.

"Well Regan while I say sucks to be you I don't mean that unkindly. Hope I don't follow in your footsteps, the last girl I was with left me raising a kid by myself." Yep he's a noble single father. He looks over at her half finished drink, "For the bad luck bit, can I buy you a beer? It's always nice when us single folks look out for each other." he asks politely while staring at his beer pondering another swig.


Regan hrms. "As long as it's because of that, not because I'm one of what, a dozen women in the place?" She's made note of that, too. It's not a girly kind of place. Much more a bachelor party kind of joint.
Vic turns slightly on his stool and looks at her, "Yep, not trying to get in your pants, just trying to have a chat besides I hardly think a beer equates to a declaration of undying love." He raises his hand at the sissy looking bartender and points to the nearly empty beers; the bartend nods and begins pouring.

Regan laughs a bit. "You'd be surprised, with some guys. Some women, too, for that matter." Regan doesn't date women, but had to fight one off in college. Amusing, really. "So...do I get the feeling you're new in town?"

Vicktor nods to Regan. "Yes, though I've been to New York most of my life till I graduated, least a bit during the summer. My grandparents live out in Brooklyn so I've been around. Moved here last week, my aunt and her husband is taking care of business out in Europe for a year or so and let me and my boy make use of their place." he offers in explanation. "Moved here from Arizona, first from up in the mountains in Prescott, then down into Phoenix after I got a job sitting on my ass."

Regan ahs. "You have a kid?" she inquires. "At least, I assume you don't mean a boyfriend." From the way he's talking, not because she would normally make any such confusion. "Some days I wish my job involved more of that."

A smile, true and genuine brightens his face. "Yep Jacob, he's five now, almost six and he's pretty much the best thing that happened to me. Course I think it works both ways." he pauses for a few moments as the bartend brings the two their new mugs. After he leaves Vic returns to his thought, "His ma was gunna get an abortion, talked her into keeping him so I could take him. Bought her a car for her troubles." he says a hint of anger in his voice.

Regan rolls her eyes a little bit. "I generally don't believe in abortion, unless there's something really medically wrong." A pause. "Probably mostly because I was nearly aborted myself, probably would have been, but my birth mother was just too Catholic to do it."

A conversation he has opinions on, "Ya, personally I'm all about pro choice, but well... It was my boy I just tried to give her a choice ya know?" he goes quiet for a moment. "Best and hardest choice I ever made but he's worth it ya know?" Vicktor looks at his bar companion to see her thoughts.

Regan shakes her head. "I'm not saying I would tell another woman how to make the decision. Just that I'm against it myself." Big difference, there.

Switching points on the topic Vic asks, "So I take it you don't have any kids of your own? Most ladies I've met have been pretty focused on career's, least more so than guys, and far more so than having kids." Yep most women either think he's a martyr, or a fool for having one himself at his age.

Regan shakes her head. "Not yet. I have to find the right father first, and that's taking a while. Guess I'm picky." Or maybe it's all the time she wasted with totally the *wrong* guy.
"Heh." he agree's. "Ya, well I found plenty of ladies, course most of em have been the right girl for the night." he looks over at Regan, shrugs and takes a sip of his beer again. "I'm probably getting too old for that I 'spect." he takes another pull.

Regan nods. "Probably harder to find one for more than that with the young one attached, for that matter."

Vicktor nods. Pauses for a few moments to watch some city boy poser try to line dance with this girl wearing more makeup than Tammy Fae Baker, he openly just shakes his head and turns back to the woman sitting with him. "Sorry, don't know if I'll get used to the sight of that, she looks like a two dolla whore." he shakes his head absently trying to get the image out of his head while they continue to attempt a line dance.

Regan shakes her head. "Going rate for the cheap ones is more like ten these days. Inflation, you know." She makes her tone authoritative, although there's a twinkle in her eyes.


Vicktor was taking a pull from his beer when she says that, mid swallow he nearly gags himself and coughs several times. He laughs loudly, and with little restraint. "Oh boy," he coughs again, "I 'spect I'm going to need to get a job then with inflation an all."

Regan laughs. "Sorry. Stole that joke from a guy in vice." She watches the girl for a moment. "'Course, she probably spent more than that on makeup. Needs reminding that less is more."
Grinning at Regan he cocks his head back, then returns his gaze. "Probably, so you a cop I take it?" he asks quietly.

Regan nods. "'Fraid so." Why is she opening up so much to this guy? Maybe because he's 'safe', having a kid already and all. Maybe she just respects him for taking the child.

"Pah, don't be ashamed of what you do, it's noble as all fuck even if I'll curse you to death if ya give me a speeding ticket." he says with a grin. Cops are good folks in his book, yessiree.

Regan laughs. "Actually, you should be hoping you *never* have to deal with me in my professional capacity. I'm homicide." Yeah. The kind of cop any sane person would like to see...unemployed.

Vicktor opens his eyes wide. "Fuck Regan, damn you sure got to have balls of steel for that one chika." he says with grimace. "What made you choose that line of work, I mean I know it's something needed and shit but damn..." he trails off and takes a /long/ pull from his beer finishing up the first one, it's twin ready for consumption.

Regan hrms. "I suppose, I have a case of 'Somebody Has To Do It Syndrome'." The quotation marks around that can be heard. "Not that I *have* any balls, but..." Women in homicide *are* rare birds.

Vicktor says, "suppose so but..." he looks over and offers his hand, respectful like. "Missy you got something in ya most don't and it's always a delight to meet good people." His face is back to it's normal hard lines, but there is something in his eyes, respect.

Regan brushes back her hair, and then shrugs. "It's...honestly, it's not easy, but it's also a job that has to be done." A pause. "'Course, ask me in a few years and I might have changed my mind."
Vicktor says, "Well if you change your mind, hopefully there's the chance to go to something else ya know. Is there, ya know the ability to change your mind and get switched to another" he pauses for a moment searching his memory, finding none Vic finishes with "thingy you can transfer to?"

Regan nods. "Yeah. A lot of people transfer out of homicide within the first year. Those who stay, though, tend to stay. You work out whether you can stick it pretty quickly."

Taking another sip Vic asks, "How long you been doing this, homicide?" he asks, curious about the whole cop thing.

Regan hrms. "I've been out of uniform three months...so not long at all. Generally, you have to put in so many years in uniform before they let you be a detective."

Regan hrms a bit. "It is. You have to learn...a kind of selective coldness. If you let yourself feel too much on the job, then it bruises and burns you, but if you stop feeling altogether..."

Vicktor nods, faking an understanding look. "Sounds hard man, just hard." he takes another drink. "Suppose it doesn't make it easy to have a social life either, I mean most of the knowledge I have from homicide is from NYPD blue and shit, those guys can't seem to get with a real life to save themselves." Wow, that sounds a bit hard didn't it.

Regan snorts. "NYPD Blue is a good show, however...the thing with cop shows, all of them, is they kind of distill things. They cut out what's not good television, so you get the impression it's like that all the time."

Vic chuckles briefly. "I suppose Regan, but damn. Course then again they think shit like survivor is good tv now so..." he leaves the rest unsaid.

Regan snorts. "I can think of worse than Survivor. Did you hear about the gaydar test show? The one that set up gay guys in a Bachelor-like situation...and hid straight guys in amongst them to see if they could spot them. Sleeeeeazy."

Shaking his head no Vic rolls his eyes. "Jeezus, they actual think people want to be blathered at like that? Personally I really only watch movies, or something on sci fi or like history channel if I'm not playing on my computer or playing with Jacob." There, the highlights of Vic's nightly pasttime's comes out.

Regan shrugs a little bit. "I'm not a big TV watcher at all, actually," she admits. "I'd rather have a good book...and I'd rather do something physical over either."

The bright light above Vic's head glows brightly off his bald head as he gets an idea. "Hey, you know a gym that does armature boxing? It's been a few years but I'd love to get back into it. Won a quite a few matches back in Phoenix when I was doing it a lot." he says with much pride. It might have been a few years but he looks like he could handle a few rounds in the ring still.

Regan hrms, and falls silent for a moment, searching her memory. "I know of a couple, what I *don't* know is which are any good. But I can think of somebody who might know more. I could ask them and get back to you."

Vicktor says, "That would be awesome, here let me give you my number." He pulls out a pen and a white index card out of his jacket, scribbles a number and Vic in big letters and slides it over.
"Thanks, that would be pretty cool, part of the reason I moved out here. My Aunt and I talked, she's like you /need/ some semblance of an adult life at twenty six." he stops for a moment and then looks over a grin on his mouth. "So that's why I'm here, attempting to gain an adult life once more."

Regan hrms. "Being a father doesn't count? Not many more adult things you can do than raise a child, especially alone," she points out, taking the number. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she returns the favor. Wow.

Vicktor says, "Aunt Ellen's a jew, nothing more than a jewish woman without children of her own loves to do more than try to run her family's lives." he says with a chuckle. "Besides, her and my uncle Avy are being beyond awesome, decided to pay for me to get my education out here, chance of a lifetime." As the number is passed back he pockets it into his jacket along with the pen. He winks, grins, "So I take it the beer is appreciated then?" he alludes to the second beer that's been hardly touched.

Regan laughs, "Definitely. I'm not one to rush a drink...especially when the conversation is interesting. And from what I've seen of Jews, that's definitely true...although I would certainly not turn that down. My parents helped me a lot with mine."

Smirking, "Yep, she married another man in the diamond biz like her daddy. He's so bloody rich he just normally invests. I think he donated years back for the Holocaust museum like two, three mill to help out. They got pic's of Grammy and Grampy there as well." Wow, he doesn't /look/ like a jew from New York.

Regan doesn't ask. After all. She looks nothing like her 'parents'. It's not something to pry about. Most likely just means the other side of the family's gentile. "I'd say I'm jealous, but really, I have absolutely no desire to stop working."

"There are days back doing tech support in a call center making almost crap when I had hoped of a day like this but..." he stops lacking any direction for it to go. "I'm just happy they thought of me honestly, gives me a chance to give Jacob something more than I could have beforehand. Then again hell if I know what I'm going to do really, it's been a pipe dream for six years so I'm kinda at a loss beyond starting school in the fall on what to do." He drinks some more relaxing even if the line dancers are /totally/ getting in all wrong.

Regan glances at the dancers herself and winces. "Ow. Two left feet there." Somebody's foot just got stepped on. "And yeah. If I ever have kids, I'd want them to have the very best I could give them. Not all about money, though, of course."

Vicktor nods back, agreeing with her assessment of money. "Ya, it was just pretty rough, with insurance for him, me only getting contract temp jobs after the dot com bust, and pay dropping our last place was a single bedroom for him and I slept on the futon in the living room. Least that way he had a place to relax and be a kid when I wanted to have a beer and listen to cd's." he says with a grunt.

Regan shrugs. "Should see my place. Can't swing a cat...for that matter, can't swing a kitten." More of her beer vanishes. "Mostly because I'm saving, though."

"Ya, I've heard of New York and it's lack of, space." he say with a grunt not really understanding that her place is most likely the size of a studio, and costing more per month than a mortgage for a four bedroom in the posh area's.

The size of a not very big studio. "Yeah. New York is all noise and crowds. Not everyone can handle it. I like to get out of the city sometimes myself," she points out. "But I could probably afford bigger...just. Just don't need it."

"Is there actually places to get out and not be in the city?" he asks then waves his hand vaguely and continues, "O ya, I've been outside the city a few times, Ithica is lovely and most of upstate is to die for but it's so expensive out there ya know?" commenting on the prices of the massive estates, upstate.

Regan hrms. "To live...I'd rather live here, avoid the massive commute. But on a weekend...plenty of good places to go walk or run or whatever." Yeah. She's a physical type, that's for sure.
[Newbies] Helper Rossi has connected.

Vicktor looks at his watch, shit, time to pick up the little one. "Hey Regan it was a pleasure meeting you but according to my watch I need to get going, have to run out to some of the extended family who's currently holding my little one hostage. If I don't I know they will spoil him rotten, and I want to share in the spoiling of my boy. I'll give you a call and we can go out sometime maybe?" he questions a wry smile on his face as he finishes the little bit of beer left in his glass.

Current Location: Home
Current Mood: chipperchipper
Current Music: Jacob singing song's in the bathtub
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