(Jagger) These Boots are Made for Walkin'

[harley]

HALLEY GREGOR

Outfit (click)

Turning off the engine in her tiny pink VW bug, Halley opened the door and climbed out, taking up about half a compact-car parking space (not literally). Pressing down on the 'lock' button on the car key's remote twice, the car honked and the lights flashed, signaling to the user that its alarm was set. Walking inside the small diner, high-heeled boots clicking, while she was kicking herself for wearing her lumpy, but fashionable, crème colored sweater, bright teal tank showing through the large holes intended for the top, she sat at a booth and ordered an Iced Tea while she looked over the menu, blue eyes scanning the laminated paper full of wonderful-sounding meals. Picking a French Dip with Swiss cheese and fruit salad as a side, she waited patiently for it to arrive, looking over the historic diner for any signs of life, other than the almost-dead nursing home patients pushing their walkers through the door. The diner better be ready, as they would need to put their food in a blender…

OOC://Sorry it’s so short…\\

[jagger]

Jagger sidled in belatedly for lunch, his rattletrap cadillac parked in the shade out front. He had no alarm, just the push locks, and those he diligently locked.. as if anyone wanted to steal that thing. Throwing himself inside, the young Australian picked a booth and slid into it, glancing up to stare across at a strikingly familiar woman. Considering Jagger knew nobody here really; that was.. bemusing.

Staring at her for a second before directing his gaze at the menu, he paged through it and then promptly glanced up again, staring for another few seconds. Repeating this process, he was distracted by the waitress approaching to take his order. Rambling off something generic - he figured what the hell, it's foood - he again stared at the blonde. His jaw dropped as the realization dawned on him. Halley Gregor! The model! Oh. He had her posters. He had seen her catwalks. He had spent many nights.. well, nevermind.

Blinking, his heart was in his throat. He shifted uncomfortably, melting into the booth as he held his menu up protectively over his face, staring at her from over the edge of the vinyl-edged slip of paper. What did he do? Nothing? Something? Say Hi? Ask for an autograph? Propose marriage? He went stiff, muscles clenched as every nerve in his body went haywire. Forcing himself to breathe, he was horribly irritated with the irate waitress snatched his menu away, eyes flashing wide before staring at his hands pointedly.

[harley]

Placing the menu to the side of the table, she set her rather large brown clutch on the table and dug through her letters she had just picked up from the apartment's box, flipping through them as she walked to her car, mostly bills until...wait, what was this exactly? Fan mail? forwarded here from her five-star Paris apartment. Ah, sweet sanity. It'd been a wile she had sat on leather, besides the leather that stood between her legs and her precious horse Joey, or the leather seats in her bug. Long time since she had touched real bamboo hardwood, a long six months since she had walked across carpet that wasn't stuck together from old age, or worn down to nothing as it was in her current residence.

Finding that same strange letter, she pulled it out of her purse, finding it had been re-enveloped many times, as the original envelope was held together by packing tape, probably from the many trips through machines in the post offices. Heck, to get the Paris from the states as it seemed it was, it had to go through at least fifteen offices, and then the plane and train rides, until finally a mail worker who came around on foot to deliver her mail to her directly, the only middle-man in the process it seemed.

Finally opening a total of three envelopes, the young Ms. Gregor took the crisp, but wrinkled, white piece of lined paper out of the tape-laden folded protector and folded out the letter, finding there was two individual pieces of college-rules notebook paper, scribbled writing on it, along with pictures of her on the runway with the best of designers. Ah, did those a brief flashback of the hectic status off-stage with the make-up artists, and the young assistants of the designers (whom were mostly gay she added to herself) dressing and undressing her, making her put on the most beautiful gowns, or the strangest things she had seen in her life, yet alone worn.

Pushing her mind back to the diner in which she was situated, she scanned crystal-blue eyes over the writing, smiling and nodding her head innocently. Signed at the bottom of the second page, was a name, Jagger. Looking on the original envelope, she noticed it was sent from the same valley she was in, most likely a younger follower whom just happened to be where she ended up with Joey and Lucy, as well as herself.


OOC://I thought it would be cool, since Jagger's a fan and all, that he sent fan mail, if you don't like the idea, just PM me and I'll edit the post in five minutes time\\

[jagger]

[ I'm easy. I don't care. Good idea! ]

Sinking low in his seat, Jagger distracted himself by counting the stripes on the booth across from him, a slight frown pursing his full lips as he stared straight ahead. He was uncomfortable, but fascinated; staring in short, ragged little glimpses at the model with a puppydog gaze. The waitress noticed this. The waitress was a sadistic woman. Poor Jagger never had a chance.

"Orders up, table 6!" She barked loud enough for the entire room to hear. Jagger, sensitive little soul, turned purple and tried to fade into non-existence as the waitress paraded his meal over to him and set it down. Unsuccessful in his disappearing act, he threw himself into the meal wholeheartedly, throwing little glimpses toward the model when he thought it was safe. She had his letter out; reading it - he recognized that scrawling print of his anywhere. "She'll be apples, Jagger, just relax." he muttered to himself. His hair was practically falling out; he was so stressed - but talking soothed him, even his own voice to his own subconscious. He blinked, visibly relaxing as he began his own half-inner, half-outer dialogue. She has my letter. She's reading it. Good thing I didn't include my own picture... wait, did I?!? "Ya keep panicking at this rate, you'll be cactus before long mate, chill." And that settled it. His inner mind shut up, his outer, more confident self prevailing. The young Australian was once again serene. Sort of.

Stacking his fries in neat little piles, he tackled the meal one step at a time: first the tomato, then the burger itself, then the side of cole slaw, then the fries, one neat pile at a time. Then the drink. Rinse. Lather. Repeat. He dipped a fry in mayonnaise, refusing to betray himself by glancing at the statuesque blonde again as he cycled through this particular, peculiar routine. What was Ms. Gregor doing HERE, of all places? It dawned on him after a second - oh. She had a horse. Made sense. Why was HE here? He didn't even like horses. That gave him food for thought, and he stared across the booth at his blonde neighbor while he chewed, gazing far off into oblivion.

[harley]

What a sweet boy...

That was all that crossed the young model's mind as she started putting the letter back in the envelope, she caught herself, noticing another slip of paper. Glancing at it, she jumped at the shouting from the older waitress, ending up dropping it on the floor. She looked back to the table where the waitress was headed, where there sat a rather cute boy, whom she believed was about her age. Taking the picture off the floor, she had to take a double take. Same person. So, this person behind her was that Jagger boy who was her greatest fan. Quickly looking back to her own table, she noticed the waitress headed towards her with her food. She nodded a thanks, rather awed by the fact the two were in the same town, let alone the same diner, at the same exact time.

First she ate her fruit salad, stabbing chopped apples, cherries, strawberries and her favorite, pinnapple. Ah, the sweet foods tasted delicious. Chewing slowly, she thought over what to do. For the first time since Paris, she was going to confront a fan. Finishing off her salad, she asked for a to-go box, which came rather quickly, along with the check. It was only 'bout ten bucks, not including the tip. She put a five on the table for a tip, and quickly added a ten dollar bill, putting a note on a tear-off from the letter to keep the change.

Putting the whole of her meal into the styrafoam box, she got her copy of the check and stuffed it in her purse, taking another glance at the picture of the boy, and taking note of his name, before putting both the letter and the pictures in her purse, back with the rest of her mail. She stood and walked towards the door, stopping at the boy's booth. It would be akward, but she may as well practice.
"Hiya. I'm new to the valley, and I was wondering if you would like to come to my party I'm having at my place. You're the only person here even half alive-" She glanced around the room, smiling at an old lady with her dentures out, sipping on a milkshake. She quickly turned her attention back to the boy, leaning on the table a bit."-so what about it? Oh, and I was wondering if you knew a Jagger in this valley." She knew he was Jagger, but she liked the shock most people had when she spoke to them, often fluttering her blue eyes, just to see the reaction, mostly making them drop their jaws and look her over.

[jagger]

Jagger was still lost in his own thoughts - pondering his existence and why he was here, from there segwaying onto the reason anyone was here, and then how they had gotten there to begin with. Before long, his brain - already three-quarters goofy - was addled with concepts of God and Omnipotent Beings. He was starstruck and oblivious when Halley spoke. He nearly jumped out of his skin, sliding over in the booth automatically and staring defensively at the leggy model, his eyes bulging.

"..'m Jagger." He spoke after a second, his 'ers' pronounced as 'ays' and in essence he had introduced his name as Jagga. It was positively fantastic being Australian, he thought sarcastically... it never failed to make him feel somewhat goony next to someone with a lovely American accent. His eyes on her, he forced himself to breathe and then to blink, shushing his inner dialogue. "You're Halley Gregor." There it was again, she was Ms. Greg-ah.

".. isn't this bonza, I look like a dolt. I apologize." He shook his head, patting the empty seat next to him. "Please have a seat if you'd like sheila, and yes, 'm Jagger Chamberlain. As far as I know, the only one in the valley. And that was my letter -" (lett'ah) "- you were reading." He smiled sheepishly, staring at his nearly empty plate vacantly, as if having lost the ability to continue his meal.

[harley]

Eyes glittering in silent laughter with the boy's reaction. But hey! He was kinda cute, plus the accent made him seem exotic, a plus in her mind. It was cute the way he introduced himself. "'m Jagger" seemed to flow through his lips gracefully, showing his experience, or lack of, with speaking to a goddess such as herself.

The sliding down in the seat didn't mind her, and the part where the boy said her name was no big plus. Of course he knew her, he had written her that letter, didn't he? He himself would make a good model, with his muscular build and searching eyes. Had something gone wrong in his life? Had he grown up with everything he could wish for? Was he abandoned as a small child? Did something tramatic happen to him as it did herself? Thinking critically, she decided it would take a while for the young man now known as Jagger to actually warm up to her and spill the beans.

"Well, yes, I'm Halley Gregor. Looks like you're a pretty big fan. If you would kindly give me your number, I'll call you so your buddies'll believe you..." She laughed, shaking her head at the mention of sitting. She had to get back home to Lucy to let her out on the small patch of grass on her patio. "I should get going to take care of my pug, Lucy. Poor Joey needs to get some attention as well." For someone who didn't know her, they would've guessed Joey was her boyfriend. Oh no, none of those since highschool, a few small relationships here and there as well, but they didn't lead anywhere. Mostly just guys looking for a hip ordament to take to fancy cocktail parties.

[jagger]

Jagger's crooked little grin appeared and he sort of smirked at the mention of a phone number. "Yeah, right. That's likely." It was amusing on so many levels - for the first, Jagger had no phone; second, he had no friends; and for third - like she'd call him? He was born in the dark, but it wasn't last night. Throwing some bills on the table to pay for his lunch - which was growing colder by the minute and still only half-eaten - he swung out of the booth and stood.

He didn't tower by any means; standing only three to four inches above the top of her head - he ranged from 6'0 to 6'1 on a good day, and never cared to nail down which was more accurate. His driver's license said 6'1. He liked to slouch however. Neurotic as ever, he methodically checked each pocket and was sure to retain all of his personal belongings, glancing sideways at her as she stood, still, here, by him. His face was terse again; he was unnerved being close to a woman he had had such vivid and illicit considerations for - not that he'd snap and what? throw her on the table? No, that wasn't him.. well, not usually; he'd been known to get rowdy.. but it did make him increasingly more nervous his body could betray him in more ways than one.

Nodding abruptly to the waitress, he stepped back to find himself face to face, chest to chest with Halley. Blinking, he stared down at her quietly, raising an eyebrow. "Well. Nice to meet you, Ms. Gregor." He gave a two fingered salute and stepped around her to exit, shuffling his chucks against the tiled floor.

[harley]

Taken aback by the once sheepish young boy turning rather...well, rather strange, all Halley could say in response was, "Have a great day, and please call me Halley." She watched him leave, making sure he had left before she walked out the diner's doors.

An emptiness floated over her, walking over to her car in a daze. She unlocked the doors and dropped inside, gathering herself before even thinking about turning the car on. She didn't know how Jagger made her dizzy, light-headed and wanting to see him more. Was this one of the 'love at first sight' deals? She prayed not. That was the last thing she needed at the moment. Having one fan that actually sent mail to her who wasn't a perverted forty-year-old man was a relief, but she wanted more. She had always wished to become a Tyra Banks story, once a face barely known in the industry, and then a common name with younger girls, and a good role model for all. Only she knew that this would never happen. Her days of fame were over. She herself had ended it. She didn't want to come back out of retirement. Never. Ever. Nope, not possible.

[jagger]

[ I took some liberties. Hope you don't mind. ]


The waitress chased him out the door, thrusting the Styrofoam box at him before he could mutter out an excuse as to why it wasn't his. Staring at it blankly, it dawned on him that it must in fact be Halley's. Being non-confrontational - as well as somewhat shy, though he could also be a bit abrasive at moments - he grappled with the idea of finding her, speaking with her, or worse yet.. having a conversation. It was a blessing and a curse simultaneously. Staring across the parking lot at the blonde bombshell, he sighed, clicking canines together habitually.

"Ms. Greg--- er, Halley." He crossed the pavement somewhat quickly, long legs carrying him along. Tipping an imaginary hat, he held the box out to her, arm extended fully. "Your meal. You left it... the waitress chased me with it. It'd be a bummer -" [bummah] "- to lose something you paid for." He grinned stupidly, feeling like a jackass. "And I'm sorry.. if I sounded rude back there.. It's just... " he trailed off, debating finishing his sentence.

"I kinda don't have a phone.. or any friends who'd care to call me.. and the odds of a pretty girl wanting to actually call me are slim to none. None, actually."

[harley]

Plopping down in her car, she put her head in her hands. Halley had never experienced this before; but what was it exactly? Did it have a word? A meaning? Glacing over her shoulder at the expanse of the parking lot, Halley noticed a rather tall figure making its way over to her. Jagger. Standing up, thumbs in her back pockets and head held down towards the pavement, she brightened up as he apologized. "It's 'kay. I've worse happen. Thanks." Her gaze went over his face, her blue eyes casting over his own brown opticals.

"What're the chances..." she asked herself silently, nodding her head with a slight smirk. She'd never been called pretty before by someone about her own age, always 'too good-looking for your own good', or 'normal', never pretty. She took the white box from his hand."Well, let's hope we meet up somewhere soon then." She smirked, the gears turning in her small head. "Like at the lake next tuesday at seven?" She smirked, stepping down into her car. "Don't tell me if you can or can't come. Be there or not, I'll be down there anyway." She closed her door and waved a goodbye before backing up out of the parking space and driving out of the lot, spirits now up-lifted.

[jagger]

D'oh! His eyebrows lifted in surprise and then furrowed in exasperation as she drove off, jaw slightly unhinged and agape. Scratching his cheek, he closed his mouth and watched her leave, waiting until she was out of sight to re-run the past five minutes and wander back to his restored 1967 Cadillac - or rather, the engine block was restored, the outside left a lot to be desired given that it was rattlecan black and rather ... blah.

"Mmkay... lake.. Tuesday... seven." He mentally penciled it in. If he forgot.. well, it wasn't meant to be. But he never forgot anything. He was Jagger. Far too anal retentive for his own good. This should be interesting... the girl of his teenage dreams was now a tangible reality. Really? Far fetched, but hey. He'd roll with it.


[ you wanna start the thread at the lake? ]

[harley]

//sure \\