Chapter 3
The Rocky Road to Dublin
Los Angeles isn't exactly a place where it's easy to surprise people; much like New York, by the time its inhabitants reach adulthood, they've already seen their fair share of aspiring musicians, actors, and artists of all kinds crossing their paths, and they've grown accustomed to vibrant colors and the most eccentric outfits.
It was probably only this that allowed Azuki to enter the pub without causing a stir and to reach the counter with relative ease. Relatively, because despite the patrons having already seen someone walk through that door with their multicolored hair, ample bosom, or skin-tight leather pants wedging between marble-like cheeks, few had seen them all together, and no one had ever seen them topped by a perfect and captivating face like hers.
Her swift approach to the counter was punctuated by ecstatic, yet incredulous "Holy Fuck" from both men and women until she hoisted herself onto the high stool and became less conspicuous by leaning forward, hiding her face (as well as the prominent cleavage barely contained by the lace top proudly displayed under the open leather jacket) within the cascade of darkly shiny hair.
If behind her, however, the patrons continued to revel in the sight that the leather of her pants perfectly highlighted, in front of her, across the bar, the bartender certainly had the better luck: a few asses like Azuki's, after all, had been seen around, but a face as expressive, intriguing, or even simply beautiful as hers was a privilege that was reserved only for a few photographers working with the most highly-rated jet-set models. What's more, that pin-up face was wrinkled by an expression so tired and shadowy that it was the dream of every bartender ready to "listen" to a hottie like her.
Never so happy that he had chosen that job to pay for his studies, the young man in the black apron approached her, hiding quite well the enthusiasm that pervaded him.
"Good evening Miss!" He said loudly enough to be heard over the lounge music that a live band was playing, but not loud enough to attract too much attention from some playboy looking for prey who could beat him to the prize of the century "Bad night?" He let slip, betraying his desire to start a conversation.
What a stupid, self-centered whore she was! She could change her appearance as she pleased and instead, even when she wanted to go to a random place to mind her own fucking business, she couldn't help but "wear" the one with the body of a "Performer of the Year" porn star topped with the face of Aphrodite herself.
How the fuck could she think that she didn't have all the eyes of every straight male within a 100-yard radius, as well as those of several women of all sexual orientations, glued to her? Oh, wait a minute, she didn't think that at all, in fact having all eyes on her was precisely what she had in mind when he had sculpted every single detail of that body. It was purposefully made to make everyone's dick hard.
For fuck's sake! But if she only liked to fuck women, why the fuck had she modeled herself that way?
But deep down she knew: beauty, appearance, for better, was the VIP Pass to please everyone without having to do anything.
When you are beautiful, especially if you are a woman and you are extraordinary beautiful, all males immediately treat you as a goddess on earth, and even women seem to give you "the honor of arms": they may be envious, but they know, they recognize, the power you have.
That was her forbidden dream: to please others without having to draw blood every fucking second of her life to prove she deserved their respect.
It had worked, of course.
It had been a long time since she had learned to assume that appearance, and ever since then, she had always managed to reserve for herself a niche of serenity in which she could let her guard down by receiving all the free attention she desired.
It had not worked out as well as she had hoped, though.
And it was her own fault. Because she had a hole in her soul that that superficial attention could not fill. Yes, there was some easy dopamine to be found in the looks and words of normal people, but it wasn't enough.
The happiness she wanted lay in being accepted even with that chasm inside her, which was the exact opposite of the stunning front page wonder with which she now beguiled her viewers, primarily the bartender who was still waiting nervously to see if he had botched the approach or if he might still have a chance.
Azuki, however, was still thinking about how, long ago, before she developed her metamorphic powers, to even think of trying to let out an ounce of her true nature she had cultivated a wonderful eloquence as well as an extremely pleasant and agreeable personality to put at ease the people she wanted to approach.
It was, however, only a pitiful veil that she knew was wholly inadequate to conceal her Abyss.
Now that he could rival in beauty the most desirable women on earth things had obviously changed. The restless gaze of the boy in front of her proved it to her: he was the one trying to gain her approval, not vice versa.
But her jaw-dropping beauty differed from her old friend eloquence only in the thickness of the fabric. The Pitiful Veil had become a heavy drape of gorgeous velvet, but it hid the same corpse beneath it.
And she knew it very well.
Fuck! Why was she even thinking about these things! Cassie was right: she had to drink. And it had to be something strong, a hit so powerful that it would reach her brain before the depression did.
With a somewhat aggravated gesture, Azuki ran both hands through her hair, uncovering her face and looking up, only then remembering the bartender was still there in front of her eagerly waiting for her to respond to his sincere interest in the progress of her evening.
"You have no fucking idea how shitty it is" She sighed, folding her arms back on the bar and looking away so as not to embarrass the young man even more.
"Are you expecting someone?" The barman immediately continued, wanting to make sure he wasn't setting himself up for the worst embarrassment of his life.
Azuki turned again, looking cynical and smiling sarcastically.
"Yes, a colossal hangover. I'm pretty sure she told me to meet her here."
Smokin' hot and not smug? The bartender was on the verge of pinching himself to verify that he wasn't dreaming, but he recovered his focus just in time to strike while the iron was hot.
"Ah yes, this is definitely the place. I hope you're not a jealous girl, though, because you're not the only one waiting for her!"
Azuki smiled genuinely amused at him, and as a reward for his efforts she added a vaguely alluring look to her expression that, however, immediately got the young man on edge.
"Do you mind if I use a vaporizer?" She asked him as she pulled out hers, not surprisingly stowed in her cleavage "It looks like a cigarette, but it has no combustion or nicotine."
The bartender knew that at this point he would have to tell her something like that it was okay with him but he didn't make the rules or that if he then let her do it he would have to allow everyone to do it, but he was no dummy and, in lieu of doing all that, he nodded, smiling with a bit of a dumb look as he wiped a cloth in front of her to clean her part of the counter.
"Thank you," she said purring like a pussy, immediately getting the barman to drop everything to rummage through his pockets and then produce at lightning speed a lighter.
Azuki chuckled spontaneously upon seeing the confusion her eagerness had caused "Ahaha! No, thank you. No combustion, remember?" And she lit the vaporizer with a light tap on the back before taking a long drag.
