Radio Ga Ga

[Harris]

“Some fat sweaty guy in an ugly suit was pestering me in the Marketplace, asking if I’d give you his card.”

“What, like, his credit card?”

“No, his business card. Why would he wan—Nevermind. Just, here.”

That brief conversation with his wife led him to one of Rhydin’s upstart radio stations, KLIT-AM 900, for a meeting with the station’s director in regard to… well, that wasn’t exactly clear yet. He was however keenly aware of the fact that station was located on the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak. The fresh coat of white paint slapped hastily across the side of the building (undoubtedly to conceal a variety of graffiti) had already been stained by an even newer batch of obscene scribbling. The vagabonds that loitered just outside the station’s entrance afforded him a lazy stare as they looked up from their impromptu dice game, cigarette smoke hanging heavily in the air above. Still, even with second thoughts about this meeting he stepped through the door into the reception area, where he was greeted by a female clerk and ushered immediately into the station director’s office. There was another pause as Harris quite literally stood in the doorway of the office, because, well, there wasn’t actually a door on the hinges. His incredulous look was met with a nervous, seemingly apologetic chuckle from the “fat sweaty guy in an ugly suit” that Stick described.

“I know it’s not much to look at, but it’s got real potential,” the man tried to explain as he offered Harris a seat across from him, a ragged oak desk separating the two.

“Uh huh,” Harris responded, a skeptical look given to the chair before he dusted it off and sat himself down.

“I’d just like to say, it’s a real pleasure to meet you Mr. D’Artainian. My name is Bob Selway and I run this place. Just got her up on the airwaves last week and I won’t lie, we’re in desperate need of good content. That’s why I asked your wife to give you my—“ Bob stopped dead in his tracks as Harris raised his hand to interrupt him.

“Correction. That’s why you badgered my wife while she was out shopping in the Marketplace, demanding she give me your card. Contrary to what you’re probably thinking, I’m actually only here to punch you in the stomach until you vomit up every meal you had today. But I’m willing to wait until you make your pitch to do it, so I’d suggest you make it a good one.” And Harris leveled his most affable, non-threatening grin across the table.

“I, err, I apologize about that. Honestly I do,” Bob cleared his throat, loosening his tie before continuing. “But like I said, we’re desperate for new content. And that Ringside Rewind you write is just the thing we were looking for. It’s edgy and in your face and it’d be perfect for talk radio.”

“Uhh, I understand why you’re in radio, because it’s for ugly people. But look at me,” Harris paused and leaned forward in his chair. “Seriously. Look at me. Why would I want to be on the radio?”

“Because I’d be more than willing to give you a piece of the pie. There’s no doubt you’d be the station’s main draw, and I’d be more than happy to make it worth your while by offering a share of this place. Plus, not everyone in Rhydin is literate enough to enjoy your column. But with your voice over the airwaves it’ll be accessible to a much, much larger audience.” Bob’s rebuttal had obviously been prepared well in advance to sweeten his pitch.

“Huh.” Harris squinted, features scrunching as he processed the information. “I can set my own hours? Choose my own content? Be my own editor?”

“Absolutely.” Bob rather confidently clasped his hands together on the tabletop, certain he’d be spared any violence by his newest employee at this point.

“Seems like a good deal to me, partner. With my name attached to this place my new office will have a door in no time,” Harris quipped, his grin impossibly wide.

“Your new office.” Bob repeated, shaking his head. “Well, before you start moving in and counting your profits, there’s also the issue of a co-host. We have a very promising prospect that I think you’d have great chemistry with. She should’ve been here by now but I gues—“

"I saw some homeless guy tugging it outside the building. He started going faster when he saw me walk by. I would’ve been flattered if it wasn’t for the smell,” the newly arrived Seirichi declared as she swaggered into the office.

“F*ck.” Harris muttered, holding his head in his hands.

[Harris]

Bob Selway's office had a door now. His name was even on the front, etched across a pane of frosted glass. Harris hadn't snatched it from under him like he claimed he would, opting instead to knock out one of the station's walls to create a much larger joint office for himself and Seirichi. But today his meeting with Bob was taking place in Bob's newly refurbished office, nearly unrecognizable at this point.

"The Imperial Grand RhyDin Hotel & Casino. How in the hell did you get them to sponsor us? That's huge. And it's only been a month and a half."

"I'm a sweet talker, Bob. What can I say?" Harris grinned and shrugged. "Can't hurt that our show's ratings are through the roof. Letting you hire me was probably the best idea I've had in awhile."

Bob snorted out a laugh, shaking his head. "You've got more connections than I thought. That's a good thing."

"People are naturally drawn to greatness. Anyway, we've got a live show at the casino coming up as part of the deal. They're even putting us up in the two fanciest suites they've got, comped," Harris explained, interlocking his fingers and placing his hands behind his neck.

"They are?" Bob's eyes widened considerably, and for a moment there Harris was convinced the rather hefty man would leap giddily into the air and click his heels together in excitement. He allowed Bob's grin to spread before properly bursting his bubble.

"By us I mean myself and Seirichi. You know, the stars of your station's flagship show."

"Oh..." Bob melted into a puddle of despondency, shoulders slumping.

"Give yourself a raise or something, Bob. You'll feel better then," Harris chuckled on his way out of the station director's office.

[Harris]

It was all too easy for one to get lost in the allure of flashing lights, tinkling coins, and scantily clad waitresses on the casino floor of the rather opulent Imperial Grand, and the Siovanui was no different. Seirichi had staked her claim on one of the slot machines and appeared unable to stop feeding it money until it spat out the jackpot that scrolled overhead on a digital display. Even when Harris finally managed to find her she seemed reluctant to pry herself away from the machine, verbally resisting until he finally resorted to physically dragging her off the stool.

"Slots. The payout isn't big enough with slots. Now craps? That's the way to go. We're gonna roll dice instead. By we I mean me. You get to watch. I know you like to watch," Harris quipped with a grin, forced to hook an arm into Seirichi's to keep her from returning to the slot machine she had just vacated. Their rooms for the evening were located on the hotel's fourth floor, two pied-a-terre suites, intended for long term use, but so far they had spent most of their time on the casino floor.

"But dice is boring," Seirichi complained, her two hours of vigilance at the slot machine undermined by the insistence of her blue-haired co-host. "Look, I swear. If someone else gets that jackpot I'm going to rage all over the place. I was SO close... and that old woman over there was eyeing my machine the whole time. LOOK! SHE'S EVEN PLAYING ON IT NOW!" Seirichi barked out over a shoulder. "Get the f*ck away from my machine!"

"You gotta learn to make the most of your VIP status. We've only got tonight and part of tomorrow to live it up. You're wasting our comps sitting in one place all night. And if that old woman wins we can always get her out in the parking lot," Harris offered, lips twitching in a grin for Seirichi, followed by a waggle of his brows as he moved through the labyrinth of table games that flanked the slot machines, heading directly to a sickly craps table, the shooter there only in the company of one or two other stray gamblers.

"Have you played that machine. It's not a waste. It's not my fault that you have terrible ADD and can't sit in one spot for long," Seirichi commented almost ironically. "And I'm not beating up some old woman, even if she'll only win because I put a whole bunch of luck into that machine."

Harris scoffed. "I would never lay my hands on an old woman. Intimidation though? That's something else entirely." Then his attention shifted to the gathering at the craps table where he loudly announced his intentions. "NEW SHOOTER!" If his goal had been to garner the table's attention, he was successful, as the current shooter paused in mid throw to frown at his rudeness.

As she moved closer to the table Seirichi couldn't help but peer over to see what it was about. "Ugh... it looks boring as sh*t... I mean, look at it." She proclaimed, closely examining the various betting lines on the felt table, which eventually caused her to grin madly.

"What?" Harris queried, noting her grin even as the current shooter made his next roll.

"What? Come on, you don't see it?" Now she was laughing, pointing out a quick finger to direct Harris to the bold word 'COME', representing one of the various types of bets in the game. "It's me and Mia's relationship in word form."

"Sorry, it's a bet, not an invitation," he explained to Seirichi, before turning back to the table again to shout. "NEW SHOOTER!"

"Sir, you'll have to wait your turn," the stickman on duty informed him, responsible for retrieving the dice after each roll.

"What? It just says come, nothing about betting. This table is confusing. How about I go push that grandma away from my machine and you have your little fun here. Unless things start getting sexy..." Seirichi paused, examining the table again to point out the 'BIG 6/8' betting square. "Oh, and there's nothing big about six. Nothing. Big. At. All."

The stickman's cheeks flushed a brilliant hue of crimson at the Siovanui's words before calling out. "Please don't lean over the table during the game, Miss."

"I thought you understood? You're here because you bring the sexy. Duh. Also, when playing craps, a woman is required for good luck."

"Seven Out. New shooter." Came the announcement, slender wooden stick flashing out across the table to collect the dice.

"Seven isn't big either. Average." Seirichi reached out to pop the back of her hand lightly against the blue-haired man's chest. "And what luck? I need to save whatever luck I have for the slot machines." She rolled her eyes and added a sigh. "But fine. I will give you all my voodoo luck." Which came in the form of wiggling fingers.

Harris had already claimed the former shooter's position at the head of the table, in the process of plucking a new pair of dice from the stickman before he would make his first roll. "Don't worry, this has your name written all over it. All you gotta do is blow. One of your many talents." Both dice were held in his palm, toward Seirichi, for her to blow on them. He flipped a $100 chip on the 'PASS LINE' bet, essentially betting on his own success.

"Oh look, I don't even have to get on my knees. Thank you," Seirichi mocked, even through the smirk that formed. She couldn't help it, she had an interest in seeing how the game played out. She sucked in a breath, holding it momentarily, then finally blew on the offered set of dice. "There. All my luck. Make your woman some money."

Harris had every pearly white in his mouth on display for Seirichi, not even bothering to pull his attention away from her as he slung the dice sidearm across the table blindly, and they tumbled to hit the backstop before eventually coming to a pause. "Eleven. Winner." The stickman called out, and his bet, along with several others were paid off even money.

"Eleven big enough for you, Seirichi?" Harris motioned to let his chips ride on the 'PASS LINE' bet.

"What? That mean you won or something?" She leaned over the table again, skeptical expression written all over her face. Though eventually her lips twisted into a sh*t eating grin. "Big enough for me? Are you trying to ruin me for any other man?" She moved closer then. "I wanna blow again. You keep rolling right? Dice up."

"For the record..." Harris plucked the dice from the stickman. "...there'd be no other men after me. You can trust me on that." He snickered, holding his hand out again to allow her to blow on the dice a second time.

"I think if I was unlucky enough to be born a male, I'd be a better man than you." The Siovanui's words were slathered in unabashed hubris, arms crossing beneath her bust and chin tilted upward as she slapped a smug look all over her face.

There was another blind lob of the dice, as though the gambling played second fiddle to the conversation he was in the midst of. "You know, that's a theory that can be easily proven with a liberal dose of magic. I've known a few people in my day that could swap between genders."

"Hard ten. Ten's the point." And the announcement caused Harris to flick his gaze toward the table, as a few took advantage of the ability to place more bets after his roll.

"Hard ten...?" Seirichi laughed again, waving off the subject of gender swapping with a dismissive hand, instead focusing on the game of dice rolling. "How much is that worth?"

"I gotta roll another ten to get my bet paid off." Harris coughed. "You wanna come?" His query seemed to hang forever before he indicated the 'COME' bet that Seirichi had noticed upon their arrival at the table.

"Another? You really think you can get another ten?" Her tone was mock doubtful. "And of course I want to come. Should I start moaning?"

"If you start moaning you probably won't be able to stop. Hard to do with me around. Though I can roll another ten. With some luck." He flashed a grin, lifting the dice toward Seirichi once more.

"Alright, let me try and channel some more good luck vibes." She rubbed her hands together at a fast pace, generating enough energy to warm her palms, which then proceeded to squeeze at her chest. It was an unusual ritual, but once it was complete she leaned in to blow again on the dice through puckered lips. "Oooooooh..." There was that moan as she pulled away. "Now toss those dice!"

"All we need is a fat man in a cowboy hat and we'd be good." He was still grinning as he sent the dice across the felt, and as luck would have it another ten popped up, paying off his bet for the second time in a row to quadruple that initial $100 chip he started with.

"Woo! Ten!" Seirichi's hands clapped together in excitement, seeming to enjoy the game even if it was entirely due to her co-host's winning streak.

"You know, I think he's starting to get suspicious." Harris stage whispered, eyes on the stickman. "There's no shame in quitting when you're ahead, right?"

"I'll flash them, you flip the table, then we'll meet at the buffet." She immediately started laughing.

"This is a big table. Maybe I should flash them and you should flip the table." Harris snickered and raised a thumbs up for the stickman.

"Well, now that you've won your little game it's time I get back to my machine. I should make you blow on the buttons for luck since you owe me."

The deafening roar of a crowd nearby caught their attention then, causing both of them to turn back toward the direction they had come from, the slot machines. Seirichi blinked, blinked again, and a look of horror struck her face. She muscled her way through the newly formed crowd to come face to face with her worst fear. There stood the little old white-haired woman, as happy as a pig in mud as the bright lights of the slot machine flashed to represent the fact the machine's jackpot had just been won. The jackpot on her machine. The Siovanui's hands found her head and fingers curled to take hold of her hair. She quickly turned to glare at Harris.

"YOU!"

Harris offered an apologetic shrug of his shoulders, accompanied by a wry chuckle. He was quick to relinquish the handful of chips he'd won at the craps table though, in an attempt to defuse the situation, mustering up two words in his defense.

"New shooter?"

((OOC Note: Adapted from live play.))

[Kenzi]

Kenzi lay sprawled upon the futon in the cramped apartment she shared with her three roommates. The radio was playing in the background and roommate number two was lounging in a recliner that had definitely seen better days, long before they had rescued it from the dumpster behind the apartment building.

“I have to find an internship like NOW. I can’t even afford to be choosy about it. I shoulda had a backup plan but I was sure the other one was going to work out...how did I know the dude that owned the station was going to end up in prison and lose all of his investments? I am totally not going to pass my class and then I won’t graduate and then I will never get a good job and will end up homeless and will never meet Mr. Right and never have my two point five children and three dogs in the backyard of my huge house with the picket fence. I have to get this internship for my future children!”

Kenzi’s roommate was still hungover and just stared as the redheaded girl chattered on incessantly. “You are hurting my head and you need a valium. I need a valium. Let’s both have a valium.” So she did, and took Kenzi’s as well.

Now back to Rhydin Rewind with Harris and Seirichi...

“Oh. My. God. Yes! That’s who I’ll try next. I was out of places to call but this is like a sign or something!”

[Kenzi]

Later that day...


"Let me get to the point," How dreaded it must've sounded coming from Freckles lips when she set down Kenzi's application.

"Are you good at taking orders? Being woken up during the middle of the night to get icecream, waffles, or other random things? Are you good at going from one store to another when there's no peanutbuttercup icecream left? Physical trama, mental trama," The list continued on. Freckles, not at all missing a beat with each question, seemed to have gone through this tons of times before.

Kenzi stared at Freckles for a moment as she tried not to squirm as each item of the list was spoken. She resisted the urge to hop out of the chair and leave; that little voice in the back of her mind that was responsible for warning her when she was about to do something stupid, was screaming loud and clear. Kenzi only cringed a little at the mention of physical and mental trauma then corrected her posture and nodded lightly.

"I live in Rhydin, I deal with physical and mental trauma on a daily basis. I have spent my fair share of time as a waitress so I am used to waiting on people. I am a personal shopper for a really particular and eccentric man so I am accustomed to shopping and dealing with difficult personalities. I have a question, though. What does all of this have to do with learning something about broadcasting journalism?" Not that it mattered...this was the last station left to apply to and time was out. She had to get this internship, no matter what her duties would be.

"If Harris and Seirichi like you enough, you'll be sent out places." Freckles rotated her wrist some.. or would have, if it wasn't for the fact that her wrist appeared to be in a cast. Oh yes, another sign that this might not be the best idea. "On location for interviews. When they got rid of a good number of the staff, I had the chance to do tons of things around here.

You might be asked to hold up a mic one moment, then told to handle sound the next if someone is sick. You're going to be busy.. Really, really busy. It's like being a baby sitter for everything.. Oh, and are you good at babysitting? Seirichis daughter comes around a lot, so you'll have to handle her sometimes."

Her gaze lingered on that cast for a moment and she swallowed heavily; was this some of that physical trauma the blonde had mentioned? Her ears perked, however, when Freckles mentioned there would be chances to do a variety of things-- this could be a great learning experience. That warning voice was still sounding off in her head but Kenzi was very adept at ignoring it.

"Being busy is good, though, yeah? I mean...wouldn't it be boring to just sit around and do nothing all day?" She was trying to view this in the best possible light. Her resolve faltered a little at the question regarding babysitting. "Uh...uh. Yeah, I have been a babysitter before. Shouldn't be a problem really. I'm sure she's probably a sweet kid." With Seirichi as a mother, Kenzi could only imagine how the girl would behave.

"So...uhh...how much will this pay? I thought I read that this would be a paid internship." It had better be for all of the work she would have to do.

"Usually I sit her down in front of the television until her nanny swoops in. By the way, if you get in, I'd suggest you stay faaaar away from the nanny as possible.." Freckles glanced down at the application once more. Her lips pursing in thought. Though, they parted to expose teeth -- and soon enough a laugh when she heard the question.

"Pay? It took me five months to get put on the payroll.. and two more after that to get health benefits and dental, and that's just because I won a tournament for Harris and Seirichi."

She looked up from the application and smiled. "If you make some sort of impact, you'll get paid. But to start? No. It'd look good on a resume." Nodding.

"You fit the criteria anyway. You're a girl, you're cute," Sounding as if she were going off a checklist. "You're not a furry.. no dragon blood, right? Seirichi thinks dragons are food, not peers."

"Oh.. you don't mind sexual harassment, right? We had an Intern who pitched a fit about it before, so you'll have to sign an agreement not to try and sue or anything.."

[Kenzi]

“Stay away from the nanny, got it.” Kenzi was trying to make a mental checklist of her own; this checklist was all of the reasons she should run for the hills. “No pay. Sexual harassment. Ooookay. Wow. So, tell me what I get out of this if there is no pay and this long list of reasons I should walk out now.” Trying not to seem too desperate for the position, though anyone would if they accepted it with all of these reasons not to. Still, it looked good to at least pretend she had the option to say no. Remember that you are doing this for your future children and dogs... Kenzi brushed a few strands of coppery red hair back from her face and placed a smile upon her lips; she had to get this job so no sense in bemoaning the horrors that came along with it.

"Well, I already brought up the whole looking good on your resume thing.. Jobs seeing you have past interactions in the field, makes you more likely to be hired. I'm still finishing college myself, and that's what I'm doing.. and they do allow growth from within. I used to be a normal intern too. Now? I'm the head of the department." Freckles gave a tilt of her head. Strands of light blonde hair pushed back behind an ear.

"Maybe you'll find your niche and get promoted. It depends on how much you're willing to do and how far you're willing to go.. and, I guess? Sometimes seeing celebrities is nice."

“Well that all sounds great, really.” Kenzi nodded lightly. “When do I start?” She hadn’t even been offered the job, but confidence was usually something a potential employer, even the non-paying kind, liked.

Freckles gave the woman a look.. Then, what came next was the biggest smile. Reaching behind the desk and soon enough setting down her purse on top of it. Reaching inside with her good hand and rummaging around. Poor Kezni would soon have a list slid her way.

"Seirichi needs all these before she comes in tomorrow. Oh! See that?" Pointing over the girls shoulder. When she looked, she'd see a rather large basket off in the corner full of clothes. "There's a laundry mat close by, and you'll need to iron them. And make sure you don't do their clothes together, they know.. and Seirichi does *NOT* like the spring mist scent. Always use summer breeze."

Kenzi first looked at the list then over her shoulder at the basket of dirty laundry. She almost decided, in that moment, to drop out of college. No college credit was going to be worth all of this. She took a moment to collect herself, focusing on her breathing, and then simply nodded. "Thanks for this opportunity." How bad can it really be, anyway?

((Taken from live play.))

[Nell Holliday]

((This should have been cross-posted like 100000 years ago. Sorry and viola!))

It didn’t look like much, the radio station. Clearly emblazoned with a sign that proclaimed to be just what she was looking for, but otherwise it was just another building in the line up. Of course, just because it didn’t look like much didn’t mean anything. Nell didn’t look like much, either. Except awesome.

When she’d called on Harris’s advice, a gum-snapping young woman had told her eleven was when Mr. Selway would be able to see her. That seemed very early to the night owl, but if that was the most painful thing about this transition, then it seemed more or less fair.

Once inside, she had the good fortune to meet the gum-chewer in person. She looked just about what Nell had envisioned, after the Cosmo-esque magazine was lowered to show her face. The girl was even kind enough to leave her magazine behind and lead Nell to Mr. Selway’s office after Nell suggested she could run around screaming for the station manager if she’d prefer. Nothing like good service.

The man inside was shuffling through a small mountain of paper, his considerable girth zipped up into a jogging jacket that she was fairly certain had never actually been used for exercise purposes. When Nell’s guide called his name, the man started and a few sheets of paper flew off like startled birds.

“Yes, can I-” he started, but the gum-chewer was gone. He looked a bit warily at Nell, as if he wasn’t quite sure why she was there.

“You should look into hiring some new help,” she said, jerking a thumb toward where the blonde had disappeared. “She’s a lot more interested in sixty-nine ways to please her man in bed than she is in actually working.” She moved into the office and stuck her hand out. “Nell Holliday. We talked on the phone yesterday?”

The blank look shortly shifted into something that more resembled recognition and he reached to take her hand in return. Nell did a random set of slaps and fist pounds that the man couldn’t seem to follow and then she let herself fall into one of the chairs before his desk. “Good to meet you, Bob. Swank place you have here.”

“I… thanks,” he said. Clearly he was thrown off by what had just happened and almost asked her to take a seat before he realized she already had. He settled back into his own chair and seemed to have already lost the flow of conversation.

“I heard from Harris you had an open slot of time right after RhyDin Rewind?” Helping things along and all that.

“Oh. Oh! Yes!” Quickly getting back up to speed which earned a ‘way-to-go!’ smile from the brunette. “Yes, I remember now. We do.” He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter and folding his hands atop the table. His business-like posture at odds with Nell’s careless slouch. “The radio station is getting amazing results with the Rewind but we’re always looking for ways to up listenership. A live person would work much better than just letting the machines pick the music.”

“Well, I’m your woman, then,” she said, sweeping her arms wide in an inviting gesture while indicating herself. “I love music. Like, not in the elitest way where I ask everyone their favorite album and then shun them when they say something I think blows. Everyone’s unique like a snowflake, blah blah blah, I get it,” she waved a hand as if to dismiss her own words. “But let me tell you, a lot of people listen to sh*tty music. And I am here to fix that.”

“Well, we do try to not offend the listeners. Overmuch,” he countered a bit weakly adding the last word as an afterthought, most likely thinking about the Rewind.

“Oh, I get that,” she nodded. “I’ll go about it in total subterfuge. You know, nicely introduce the kids to music that their mothers will hate. The good stuff.” A grin. “I cuss a lot and I think it’s nearly impossible to get up before nine A.M., but I also understand money makes the world go round.” A pause. “Actually, gravity does, but I do like being able to pay my rent so I’ll do my best to follow your lead and adhere to whatever super important policies you got going on.”

He was looking at her consideringly, as if trying to evaluate what she’d said, or perhaps what he thought she might be capable of doing. Or maybe trying to decide if she’d screw things up too much.

Nell saw it and she leaned forward a bit with a grin. “What do ya say, Bob? You need to fill a time slot and I’ve got time to kill. Harris helps bring in the ratings and he put in a word for me, so that’s something, right? And even if I totally end up sucking you can always fire me.”

It took him another few moments but then he finally came to a decision. “Come tomorrow. You’ll get a trial run of a few days. If,” he held his finger up, “you do well and if our ratings either raise or at least don’t drop… then you’ve got the job.”

“Sweet balls,” she said with a full smile then, getting to her feet. “Thanks a lot, Bob. I’ll even go the extra mile with a cliché and tell you that you won’t be disappointed.”

“I hope not,” he said as she moved toward the door. When she was almost out he raised his voice. “And Nell?”

“Yeah?” Turning to glance back.

“Be here at ten.”

“Ten-thirty, gotcha,” she said with a grin and a wink. She raised her hand to salute smartly and out she went.