valentine // brian imanuel

01

valentine

As a sleep deprived, emotionally unstable eighteen year old girl, healthy coping mechanisms are scarce. The closest thing I can do to feel something, like any normal eighteen year old girl; is to get wasted.

I came to LA for work, and the first night here I was 'breaking in' the party scene. I grew up in Jakarta, being Indo on my father's side and Filipino and Japanese on my mother's.

A tight dress, stacking two eyelashes on each of my eyes and caking on a pound of makeup, I could pass as at least twenty one. Older if I stood on my toes. I stroll in, it's half past eleven. The club is full, it's hot, I'm surrounded by drunk people but I don't care. I turn to the bartender and request a shot of tequila. He doesn't question my age, not who I am. Excellent. I ask for Bombay and I stroll into the crowd and watch as people drunkenly dance around me. It was quite entertaining, so much more interesting than the school dances I rarely went to. All is going smoothly until some jackass walks into me, spilling a fourth of his cherry vodka and all of my Bombay all over my person. "I'm so fucking sorry." He slurs as I stand there in shock. "Hey, you're kinda hot." I disregard his late statement and push past him. "It's fine."

"Can I have some napkins, please?" The bartender looks over to me and scowls. He was conversing with the someone on the stool next to mine. Out of pure curiosity I begin to eavesdrop. "I'm sorry man, I'm eighteen, I'm tuning nineteen soon—"

"—That doesn't justify anything, young man." I begin to grow impatient with the argument. By the second I was beginning to smell more and more like a mini bar. "—can I have a napkin?" I interject and the bartender raises his brow, he turns around and hands me a thick wad of napkins. "Any how old are you, miss?" My face grows hot. "Uhh... twenty one?"

"May I see your ID?" "Gladly sir." I hand him my fake id that says I'm twenty one. It still said I was a citizen of Jakarta, and it has minimal English, but it does the job. He looks at my id, then back up to me. "This isn't in English."

"This isn't my country."

"Are you of legal drinking age?"

"Yes sir." The lie slips out of my mouth with ease and the bartender does not look impressed. In worse case scenario I get kicked out. I don't mind though, there are plenty of bars in LA. The boy next to me raises a eyebrow at me as the bartender inspects my id. "Fine." He mutters and I smile. "He's with me, by the way." I added on, motioning towards the boy next to me. The bartender rolls his eyes and walks away while muttering something under his breath. The boy next to me turns to me and give me a broad grin. "Clean break." He sticks his hand out to me. "I'm Brian." 

Brian had strong Asian features with dark hooded eyes and hair the colour of motor oil. "My ID says my name is Valeria Carmona, but my name is Valentine." He smiles as I reach out to shake his hand.

I wasn't going to lie, Brian was cute, in a kinda ugly, geeky, 'secret hentai fetish' sorta way.  His voice was deeper than I would expect from a eighteen year old Asia boy. It was incredibly attractive, not going to lie. "Where you from?" He asks me as I sweep a hand through my hair. "Jakarta, you?" Brian beams at my answer. "No way! Me too!"

"What's a nice, eighteen year old boy from Jakarta, like yourself doing in a bar?" I ask him. Brian smiles sheepishly as he scratches the back of his neck and turns away from me. "Homeboy's gotta find some lovin somewhere, right?"

I roll my eyes a take the seat next to him. This could be interesting. "And you?" He fires back at me. My hand reaches over for the remains of his drink and I take a sip. "I'm a alcoholic." I reply nonchalantly as I place the drink down. Brian chuckles as he reaches over to finish the last of his drink. "So, Valeria. Why are you in LA?"

"I'm here for work." I reply simply. Usually I don't like to bring up to people that I'm a 'social media star' with critically acclaimed cinematography and a photographer. It dampens the mood quite a bit. "What do you do?" Well shit.

"I work with cameras." He raises a eyebrow at me. "That's vague, what are you? A porn director or something?" I let out a light laugh. "You're close, I'll give you that."

"So you're a pornstar." Brian gives me a broad smile and I roll my eyes. "God, I wish." He snorts at my comment and looks to the bartender. Brian motions to the empty glass with pleading eyes, only to be given a glare in return. "Get out of my bar." The bartender snaps to us, and Brian gives him a shocked look. "You're joking, right?" Brian says in disbelief. "I will not hesitate to call the police."

"Well shit." Brian rises from his seat, and I do the same. Brian stood at least half a foot taller than me. He was on the skinnier side, but he held his ground well. I let out a laugh and Brian bumps into my shoulder teasingly. "Well shit, looks like this is as wasted as we're going to get." Is just after midnight and for two of us begin to walk out of the club. My pace was a bit messy, but so was his. Neither of us were capable of driving, not that we could if we wanted to.

"Where do you want go?" I ask him as we begin walking down the street. "I don't know." Brian replies and I look up to him with a mischievous grin. He returns the favour as we continue walking down the street. "Do you like indome?"  Brian gives me a toothy grin. "I love indome."