Post by nell cyprus d8f [cameron] on Jan 26, 2019 13:52:05 GMT -5
“Miss Thing, you look stunning!”
Nefertiti Wilde stood in the entrance of Crazy Eights nail salon. She was an emblem of power with that stern, sharp stance and a nose pointed like a shank. But that shattered away with the pale, uneventful flash of her fingernails. “Except for that. We’ll fix that right up.”
Jelani’s girls were ready, prim and proper like the best frauds and liars she trained them to be, each perfect for a specific demographic, each skilled in their personal ways. White trash escorted Neffie to an open seat and got to work on filing back those bland ass bar mitzvahs dangling off her hands like leftover, forgotten dredels, and Jelani sat down with a bottle of the deepest purple she had. “Tell me. What does this color say to you?”
Post by Sleepy Fluttershy on Jan 26, 2019 15:50:10 GMT -5
She entered the salon with a sigh. She was making her own contribution to the beauty industry and it was perilous for her business to even show up here. Miss Wilde doing her nails at a competitor's salon would discredit her. But it was the only way she could talk to another candidate without making it look like she was desperate for an alliance. No one seemed to like the idea of a president Snow statue in the district square. And she didn't have any other ideas so that made all her speeches look rather uninteresting. Who needed speeches anyway? Wasn't a mayor just supposed to look good and get additional money for the effort?
"Tell me. What does this color say to you?"
Neffie looked at the bottle of purple in front of her eyes and smiled cunningly:
Post by nell cyprus d8f [cameron] on Jan 26, 2019 16:10:42 GMT -5
Flattery may not get you everywhere, but it got anyone anywhere when aimed at a certain mayoral candidate. Her opponent may not have known that before entering the salon, or it could have been her intended weapon, an easy way to slide into her good graces and manipulate her thought process and win her over. Whether or not that was the case, Jelani was schmoozed, and couldn’t help her lip from curling up to the right. “You got that right.”
She lowered herself onto the stool beneath Neffie, a deliberate ploy to feign feelings of power over her so she could wiggle her way into discovering some raunchy hidden secrets, but a plot that was lost to the whirlwind of flattery that still flitted leaves and feathers around Jelani’s face. She gripped her client’s hand like it was a baby’s, tenderly, with a quiet touch, and smiled up into her face. “This is gonna look marvelous on you.” Blink. Fuck. With a glimpse in the mirror of hidden intentions, she lost her smile and began applying the first coat, her mind back on the plan, back in the offensive. “It has to be one of us. Not that sadsack man that shitted on his Tribute son. Do you agree?”