Meet Coquetta Dentata
“I don’t see what the big deal is if it works,” Coquetta said with a saucy tone in her voice.
“There’s no proof that it works,” Angeline said scrunching her face in disapproval. “And it makes you look kind of loose...and dirty.” She frowned at the last before picking up her tray and pushing passed Coquetta through the metal kitchen doors.
“Oh it works,” Coquetta said under her breath, rolling her eyes as she tucked the pad into the front pocket of her apron. She spun a 180 on her pink wheels and rolled quickly away in the opposite direction. The house uniform wasn’t all that bad: it was an apron that had a bit of a british maid shape to it, covered in pink and yellow candy stripes with a pattern of bunnies scattered throughout. Roller skates and bunny ears completed the ensemble, that of which she often times thought she looked pretty good in, therefore felt pretty good, and made good tips in as a result.
Coquetta worked at Pomme, a club on Bourbon street known for throwing infamous, over-the-top parties once monthly. Supposedly a circle of local magicians come to these parties and have little parties of their own, but the rumors have yet to be proven, and well...let’s just say the rumors aren’t exactly good. The girls who’ve spoken of run-ins with these guys never seem to last very long at the club afterward, but then again they don’t exactly look unhappy before their mysterious disappearances either...
Coquetta rolled down the length of the kitchen then pushed her way through the swinging doors, the rosey colored vibes of the club swallowing her up into a temporary giggling stupor. The line of technicolored lights poured themselves like rainbow mentos over her bosom, face, and hair, bosom, face, and hair, over and over again, as she skated along the surface of the dance floor. She was nearing her section where she had two tables happily a’ waitin’. Besides working at Pomme she always enjoyed just being there and letting the atmosphere of rhythm and color therapy heal her.
Finally reaching her party, Coquetta bent down near the table to better deliver her voice, and to gain a better view of whom she was communicating with.
“A whiskey soda? Okay, and for you?”while in between orders, she noticed an odd sort of movement and dark glowing sensation radiating from the corner of her vision. As she looked over, she noticed a group of men dressed in black vests, jackets and hats, excessive hair product in oily masses crowning their heads and dark liquor scattered in glasses throughout their table. A bolt of curiosity shot through her as she finished taking the order of the table in front of her.
After taking note of all her guests’ desires, she slipped the notepad back into the front pocket of her apron. Walking back towards the bar to drop off the order, she locked eyes with one of the men at the table. The look he gave her held something between the cool rising tides of evil, waiting for the right moment to strike, and a fire-starting electric desire. Ripping her gaze away in a motion that felt abnormally difficult, she stumbled slightly towards the bar, her equilibrium suddenly wavering a bit. Slightly confused about the sudden loss of her balance, she grasped hold of the bar and stood as still as her body would allow her. Gaining balance, she slowly turned her head to look back at the table of men that had induced the ripple. The man she’d just locked eyes with raised his glass at her in a slow motion, his eyes somehow glistening in the midst of the odd cloud that surrounded them. Coquetta turned her head and looked away from the eyes, unsure of how she felt about the entirety of the situation. Finally sure that she could walk in a straight line again, she rushed, winded back to the silver swinging doors of the kitchen.
...To be continued...