Her Orange Dreadlocks

T.H.R.E.E. Join Us

[Three chapters down and I am already feeling the inspiration for the story coming back. Originally I wanted to add some supernatural or paranormal elements to the story but wasnt quite sure where I was going to go with it, but I am getting some cool ideas now that will hopefully work well!]

T.H.R.E.E

They'd walked out the back of the club, and headed toward the shiny black car that Eliza couldn't recognize the make of, because she was too busy focusing on the looks people were giving her when they walked together.

It wasn't like they were holding hands or doing anything out of the ordinary, it was just that they looked out of the ordinary. I mean, they matched colors, and both of them weren't very normal looking on their own. But honestly, Eliza got most of the looks because she was walking next to who she was walking with.

Eliza looked over at him, and then she noticed that he didn't seem to fazed by the whole thing, and she thought maybe she was overreacting--and decided to just enjoy the moment herself. Once they'd reached the car, she got inside and put her seatbelt on. A little scared to leave her car in such a unfamiliar place, she took a deep breath and watched as she rode past the club and kept looking at her little car until it disappeared. Her car had become her most prized possession besides her cat, Hugh, when her father died. Simply put, her father bought the car for her, and she'd spent most of her time driving him around in that thing listening to music.

Brian was quiet the whole way, but he did have a content look upon his face. He was thinking about the proposition he was about to talk to Elizabeth about, and he was wondering if she would take it. It wasn't like he enjoyed spending his spare time with teenage girls, because he didn't. He thought most of them were illiterate fan-girls with an attitude problem. Most of the rich ones always proved to be snobs, and didn't seem to care a lick about the music that could be made. However, he'd been talking with Audra Schroeder for three weeks now about his old family home, and he knew that she direly wanted to buy it--probably just so she could sell it to some hypocritical millionaire, or bulldoze it to sell the lot--but he didn't want to sell it. No, he wanted to see it turned into something that looked on the outside, as important as the work that was put into it on the inside. Because if you were to go inside that house, you'd see beautiful colors, and designs in the architecture that just wasn't visible from the outside. It was kind of like that judging a book by it's cover sort of thing.

Marilyn Manson was his name, his stage name, and his identity. He'd gotten used to being called Mr. Warner by the Schroeder's simply because they'd figured since that was his legal name he needed to be addressed that way, and that it sounded kind of ridiculous to be calling someone Manson. A small smirk climbed its way onto his lips at the thought, and he gripped the stearing wheel to turn down yet another road.

They were headed to the coffee shop that he'd first been asked to sing for a crowd in this town, The Black Dog Cafe was small, but it was going to serve a wonderful purpose today. Marilyn turned his eyes toward the girl sitting next to him in his car, and he returned to his thoughts as he drove. She's talented, I'll give her that. But I'm looking for someone who could handle this role as a strong individual. She has to be up to the challenge, because a challenge it will be. He thought, before coming to a park in front of the cafe. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he turned half of his body to Elizabeth.

"Miss Elizabeth..." he started, reaching for her hand and holding it up to where he could see her long fignernails. "...I want you to go inside with me and keep in mind that, I am not joking with you in any way--and I am still trying to make sure that you are what I need for this particular challenge. I find that you may have what I need, but it will take months for me to know for sure, so please don't make your decision today. Sleep on it and then call me when you've made your decision. Alright?" he explained, his white painted face, and dark lipstick covered mouth forming words quickly.