Bad Language [OPEN]

[Norah Byron]

[norah]

Warning: This post contains dirty language not appropriate for kindergarteners or religious conservatives. If either are in the room, you may not want to read it, and almost certainly don't want to click the link to the MP3 of the song that Norah's singing. If you're a big boy or girl and can deal with naughty words, proceed at your pleasure.

There'd been a screw-up in their schedule somewhere and they'd ended up having to drive thirty-four hours straight to get from the gig at a hot little jazz bar in Seattle on Wednesday to the warehouse on the outskirts of Chicago that was going to be the site of an incredibly exclusive pseudorave set up by the company who owned one of the major online music stores on Friday night. Everybody was exhausted, sore, cranky, and when they finally got to Chicago and checked into their hotel only to learn that the band only had an hour before they had to turn around and head right to the warehouse for the sound and lighting check they came near to rebellion. Dave was promising them that they'd have a good five or six hours to rest after the check, they weren't even hitting the stage until eleven, but that didn't actually improve anybody's mood at the time.

The band set up on the portable stage at one end of the warehouse (the stage itself was well-built and carpeted, the kind meant to go up and collapse like risers and that you could get from any decent event rental place, but the decorators that the dotcom had hired to set up the party had gone around and sheathed the outside in corrugated tin, dirty cardboard and splintering wood to add to the 'authentic' look of the faux-grungey Underground feeling they were aiming for) and started running through a quick sound and lighting check, only to discover that whoever put together the temporary wiring hadn't calculated for enough voltage and whenever they got all four instruments going at once a breaker blew.

Two and a half hours later, cranky beyond belief and wanting nothing but to be allowed to leave, Norah was sitting on top of one of the amps with her bass across her lap, slumped forward miserably while she waited for the next call to try the wiring. She was dressed in a not-remotely-glamorous outfit of jeans shorts and a tank top with a lightweight blazer over the top, her hair had gone lank and rumpled with humidity and exhaustion. The other band members were just as crumpled and irritable, and any amusement that there'd ever been in watching the decorators, planners, caterers and so on run around putting together the party had long since palled.

The warehouse was the kind that had huge rolling loading doors in each wall, and for the moment they were all thrown open. It made it easier for people to load equipment and supplies in and out of the place but Norah strongly suspected that there were a good dozen or more people wandering around who didn't belong there--had just meandered in off the street. With so many people, so much going on, who could keep track?

When the news came back to try it again, the whole group hit a loud, discordant polyphonic chord that was remarkably like a musical shout. Much to everyone's surprise, it didn't blow the circuit box. A call came forward to try it again, see if the wires would hold. Norah was still figuring out what to start but when she heard Alec thumbing the opening riff of a song that wasn't original to the band but was what Norah had termed her 'Song of Rage' back in high school she laughed, but joined right in with the song.

I’m not amused anymore, and nothing’s a muse anymore. I sing of love and of hate but I’m just masturbating my soul. And I don’t want to live anymore, and I don’t want to give anymore. If I fawn, if I flirt, I just keep getting hurt and it’s taken its toll. I wish I could fuck all my sorrow away; and fuck ’til the dawn of the next fucking day. Fuck the chorus and verse, fuck the pain getting worse, fuck it all ’til I burn. I wish I could fuck all of you ’til you see I’m the worst fuck up in all history. Fuck your image and mine, fuck your limp valentine, fuck it all ’til I learn.

She'd had discovered Mary Prankster when she was fifteen and just hitting the peak of her angry teenager phase. She'd listened to the albums over and over, especially this song, and it was one of the first songs the band had played together, long before they wrote any of their own stuff.

I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t know what I did anymore, but on every damn pass, karma bushwhacks my ass and I get it all back. And I don’t want to move anymore, I’ve got nothing to prove anymore. If I run, if I sit, still it all turns to shit, then it turns to attack.

Norah had a deceptively low voice, a deeper alto than she looked like she'd have, and there was a rasp in it that surprised a lot of people when they first saw her perform. She didn't usually let her voice go this harsh, but there was so much genuine frustration and exhaustion in her that it fed into the rage of the music and gave the whole thing a whiskey-and-cigarettes rasp that fit the music perfectly. As they ran into the last verse she dropped her head forward, lank dark red hair falling around her face but her hands still moving confidently across the strings of her bass.

I wish I could fuck all the memory I keep; fuck the next ten years and just go to sleep. I’m fucked if I do and I’m fucked if I say, I’m fucked if I don’t, so I’m fucked anyway. I wish I could fuck all of you ’til you see I don’t need your mercy, fuck sympathy. Fuck your word and your prayers, fuck your stares and my cares. Fuck it all ’til I learn.

The song ended on a hard minor chord and Norah kept her head down as it finished, both for good theater and because she really was just that damned tired. She didn't raise it again until she realized that someone out there in the warehouse was clapping. The slow, somehow sarcastic sounding applause made her laugh and raise her head, looking around for who it might be.[/norah]

[William Doyle]

He'd come to Chicago for a conference with the Head of the Chicago branch of one his animal charities. Most specifically, the man wanted to talk to him about investing in a larger facility for the multidude of cats and dogs that came in. William had invested large sums of money into setting up no-kill shelters throughout the country and had become a patron of those that already existed. Too many household pets, most specifically cats and dogs, were thrown out onto the streets when a family moved or couldn't afford them anymore or any of a number of different reasons. Thousands upon thousands of lives were lost every day because the Humane Society couldn't handle the load. More animals coming in than were going out. So, William had started investing heavily in setting up no-kill shelters to try and alleviate some of the pressure on the Humane Society.

It was worked, barely. But, even so, the no-kill shelters that already existed were full to the brim and still more animals came in than were going out. People just didn't care and that really bothered him. After the rather depressing conference with Harrison, he'd gone for a walk. Of couse, his suit wasn't helping him blend in with the crowds on the street. He wasn't exactly downtown either. He needed the fresh air, especially after once more going over the number of lives being destroyed on a daily basis and the uphill battle of getting consumers interested in older animals.

Somehow, he managed to get drawn into a warehouse and decided to tuck himself into a corner to watch everything going on inside. It wasn't until the little redhead opened her mouth that the band fully caught William's attention. Her song had a smile playing over his lips, and when she was finished, he was clapping slowly, purposefully drawing attention to himself.

He stepped out of the shadows he was hiding in, knowing he must look like one hell of a creeper in his suit but generally not giving a shit. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?" He lifted his voice, projecting it through the warehouse rather easily because it was big and made for projecting noises it seemed. "On a more serious note. You are very good. I hope you don't mind if I ask who you are? And where I might hear more." While he spoke to the band at large, he had eyes only for the lithe little singer.

[Norah Byron]

[norah]"I do, but she makes me wash it out with soap first." Norah grinned at the somehow unfairly handsome man in the suit, at first making the assumption that he was one of the dotcom execs, though when he asked where he could hear them it kind of blew that theory out of the water. "We're Lorica. And if you're not going to be attending this fantastic shindig tonight we'll be at The Vic tomorrow night."

Looking past the man to the sound board, which had four guys clustered around it shaking their heads and one guy pulling wires, Norah slung her bass off her shoulders and hopped down off the stage, nimble because she was eighteen and had no idea what her knees would feel like in ten years. She grabbed two bottles of water out of a cooler fll of melting ice and headed over to the man, noticing as she did that he really only got better looking the closer she got. When she was up near enough that she was wondering whether he was in fact an actual movie star that she'd just never heard of, Norah held out a bottle to him and said, "Hi. I'm Norah Byron. It's nice to meet you." She was still going on the assumption that he was something to do with the party. He just had that look to him, something about him said I'm important. A VIP guest, a v.p. who'd had nothing to do with the party planning, something like that. And so it behooved her to be nice to him, even if he hadn't looked like, well, that.[/norah]

[William Doyle]

"I'm happy she does. I wouldn't kiss my own Mama with such a dirty mouth. I'd disinfect first." He registered the band name and filed it away for later research. He'd not heard of them but then he was out of the entertainment business in a mostly-sort-of way. He still got called on a regular basis by Barry, who was one of the many young, impressionable people who had stepped into the massive hole William's departure had created. Barry's buddy Patrick was in the music business. He was fairly certain if he ran the name through Pat, he'd get some feedback.

He watched her move, noting the youthful fluidity in her limbs and subtracting years from the age he'd initially guessed. Taking the bottle of water, Will full on smiled. "Hell Norah Byron. I'm William Doyle. And the pleasure is all mine." Catching her hand, he lifted it to his lips very gently while knowing he was being completely stupid. Why? Because she was young and beautiful and his meeting had gone to hell. Releasing her hand, he turned his attention to unscrewing the bottle's cap. "I'll be honest and admit that I'm probably not allowed to be here. But I am anyway. I liked the song, caught my feelings exactly. Was it a random choice or are you having a bad day?"

[Norah Byron]

[norah]"We are having," she toasted him with her water bottle, " an incredibly bad day. Long, hot, with no sleep or rest, a big gig in seven hours and counting and stupid sound system isn't working. If they don't get it done by then I'll be singing in shorts with sweaty hair and shouting into a megaphone."

Funny how despite that nice little rant she still didn't seem all that unhappy. Norah was just like that, she couldn't hold on to a bad mood to save her life. Once she'd sung it out with Mary Prankster, she was done and back to feeling good about everyone and everything.

And so she was sounding awfully cheery as she asked, "If you're not supposed to be here, where are you supposed to be? I can't imagine that you put on that suit for no good reason, there's got to be someone who needed to be impressed by you today." She grinned at him even as she shucked off the light linen blazer, revealing a white tank top and the edges of a lacy pale pink bra. The air immediately moved across her bared back, and even muggy as it was it was a phenomenal relief.[/norah]

[William Doyle]

[will]He toasted her back, turned to stare the guys huddled around some archaic form of soundboard and frowned. "Can't have you sweaty. And megaphones aren't very good for music. Trust me. Been there, done that. Didn't work. Became an ugly mess and turned out more of a cacophony of noises than the beautiful thing we were looking for at the time."

He was still eyeballing the soundboard disapprovingly when she pulled his attention back around to her. William glanced down at his suit as if only just remembering he had it on and shrugged. "I had a meeting with Victor Pansy earlier. He's not well known, but he runs Chicago's branch of Furrever Home, a national chain of no-kill shelters. What we discussed was not in the least bit interesting or fun, so I'll not repeat it here, but..." Again his gaze was pulled to the soundboard.

Finally, William simply couldn't take it anymore and he marched over to the guys. "Sorry to interrupt your meeting, but your problem lies with the fact that this mixing console is at least fifteen years old and the wires you're using require something...fifteen years newer. I've got an Allen & Heath ZED-14 laying around somewhere, could get it out to you in about an hour if you're willing to wait?"

The guys were staring at him slack jawed, so Will returned to Norah. "Get your band well rested. I'm going to pull a few strings and make sure things around here are wired properly." It wasn't so much about throwing weight around for him as the fact that he would prefer the stage didn't randomly set itself on fire while someone was performing. "If their mixer is old, it makes me shudder to think what they've got for a lighting system. I did theater for a while before I got into some other stuff. Different branch of the entertainment business." His smile was slow and easy.[/will]

[Norah Byron]

[norah]Norah stared at William with her eyes so large and round in her face that she looked almost comically like an anime character for a moment. "I think I just fell in love with you," she informed him, all breathy and everything. "Can you actual and for truly fix this?" When he promised her that he could, and further Mark confirmed that William knew what he was talking about, Norah hurried over to the stage and dug something out of her bag, then pressed a square cardboard guest ticket into his hand. "This party," she informed him solemnly, "is going to be a nightmare. But stay anyway and hear us play? It's only fair if you're going to save us from the hell of seven hours of sound checks that you let me buy you a drink after. Or possibly several drinks."

She let herself be hustled away by Mickey, realizing only after they were halfway to the hotel that she hadn't gotten either a phone number or a promise to stick around from William.

After very long shower, an even longer nap, and a good meal, Norah managed to be feeling actually human by the time they haed to head back to the venue. She looked around for William before their set, but frankly with the mad dash that getting ready to go onstage always was she didn't have the time or energy for a really intensive search.

And then she was up onstage for the first set and there was no more time to search. Lorica's performance style was intense, physically demanding, and Norah was all over the stage. Striding up and down despite the height of her heels, writhing inside that tight dress with the absurd pattern, dancing because she couldn't sing and not dance. It was a long set, but there was an hour break in the middle while the actual 'meeting' part of this party was supposed to happen.

The instruction was to end the first set fairly mellowly because the executives didn't want the employees so hyped up that they couldn't concentrate on what was said. So instead of wrapping the first set on one of the high-energy numbers, Norah stepped up to the edge of the tiny stage with her Aerodyne pulled in tight to her lower stomach, watching the audience with a kind of slow, haughty challenge as the next song started off with just her bass and Alec on rhythm guitar. She worked the blue-eyed-soul inspired torch song for all she was worth, sex and loneliness and urgency all there in her scratchy, roughened voice.

Don't you be wasting all your money on syrup and honey, because I'm sweet enough. Don't you be using every minute on making a living, because we've got our love. Listen to me, one-two-three. Baby, baby, baby, spend your time on me.

The band didn't do much in the way of open showmanship in the set, preferring to to let the music carry the performance, but this piece was the only exception. With no percussion line in the arrangement Doro stepped up from his set and around into Norah's spotlight at the midpoint of the first verse. He pressed up against her back as she sang with a husky longing she should have been too young to understand, his hands running down over her hips and sliding his cheek along her shoulder while she sang. It was an odd little bit of stagecraft; the body language seeming to imply that he was the one being ignored and left lonesome, even as Norah leaned back into him, responding without ever lifting her hands off the bass.

Don't you be out all night long, leaving me all alone, because I need your love. Don't you be spending every day working away, because I'm waiting for you. Listen to me, one-two-three. Baby, baby, baby, spend your time on me. Spend it, spend it, spend it, your time on me. Please, baby.

It never would have worked if the attraction between the pair hadn't been a very real thing, and possibly wouldn't have worked if they'd ever actually acted on that draw. But there'd been a chemistry between Norah and Doro since they were freshmen in high school, an attraction that they would never act on because he was her brothers' best friend and she sat firmly on a pedestal that Doro had built for her before either of them were old enough to drive. Which just meant that there was a pent-up longing in both of them as Doro slid his hands down Norah's pale thighs and she dropped her head back to bare her long white throat that was honest and powerful.

She writhed back against him, he ran his hands over her in ways that he would never dare in 'real' life and she sang pained nonsense with a purr of sex and need in her voice that was too harsh to be anything but real. And in the last moment of the music, when the final notes were still hanging in the air and the hush on the crowd hadn't broken, Norah reached over her shoulder and plucked the silver-rimmed aviator sunglasses off Doro's face, slid them on to hide her eyes as she leaned into the mike and murmured, "We're Lorica and we've got more to tell you. Y'all be good and listen to what the nice men in suits have to say, and we'll be back in an hour. Don't leave now, you'll miss the best part."

The stage went dark and the band slipped out the back, but while the guys headed for the green room, Norah went out into the crowd because halfway through that last number she had finally spotted William, and it would only be polite to go say thank you. Right?[/norah]

[William Doyle]

[will]William had ended up spending more time at the warehouse than he'd initially planned. However, by the time he was done, the place was wired properly and he was genuinely pleased with the outcome of the sound checks. Everything was smooth and functional. So, he'd taken a three hour break to shower, eat and change. After all, there was no way he was returning back to that warehouse in his striped suit, not when he had a perfectly workable black three piece laying around.

Pocketing one of his favorite watches, he returned the the warehouse and found himself another dark corner to watch the performance. Watching Norah work the stage was exhilarating. Watching her and Doro move together made him shiver and had lust licking at him. Effortlessly, he tucked the desires down, focusing only the enjoyment of her performance.

To his amusement, she didn't tuck away into the green room, instead she started sifting through the crowd. He had stepped into a bit of light during her last song, remembering how she'd asked him to stick around. Now, however, he'd tucked himself again into a dark corner and waited until she got close enough for him to reach out and offer her a single red rose. "For the singer with so much talent. You were amazing, Norah. I haven't seen someone with that much stage presence in...a long time. How are you holding up?"[/will]

[Norah Byron]

[norah]"William!" Norah took the rose with a brilliant smile, then teetered forward on the tips of her toes (in four-inch heels they were nearly exactly the same height) and wrapped her arms around him in an exuberant hug. The embrace was exactly equal parts genuine enthusiasm and good staging, as she could already feel people starting to work their way over wanting to talk to either her or him, and Norah didn't feel like being Gracious Girl Singer right this second. She'd work the crowd after the show, she wanted her break to be an actual break, spent with someone she actually had an interest in talking to.

Drawing back from the hug but not retreating out of William's social bubble she said, "Thank you. It was a good set. Not least because the mikes actually worked and the lighting mysteriously knew how to find our marks after sweeping wildly around the warehouse all afternoon." She beamed at William and patted at the lapel of his suit as though smoothing it. "Drink? I owe you several, as I recall."

"And I'm doing fine," she waved off her earlier exhaustion and frustration with the ease of being both nineteen and Pollyanna-levels of optimistic. "I got a nap and ate something with a lot of vitamins and I was good as new. And we don't travel again until Friday, we're doing two nights at The Vic, so I'm going to have time to catch up on sleep and even get some laundry and shopping done. Who knows, I might even go wild and do a little sightseeing." [/norah]

[William Doyle]

[will]He wrapped his arms firmly around her, face schooled into something that was both genuine pleasure and perfectly bland in politeness for prying eyes. While she spoke, he drew her through the crowd, a gentle hand on the small of her back. Expertly, he got her backstage and headed toward the green room, which he had touched himself with drinks and snacks and comfortable seating. “Drinks are taken care of. You offered, but I’ll be taking a rain check. For a later date when you’re not so busy as tonight.” Stepping past the green room, he paused at a door marked with her name. When William had stepped in to help, he’d taken the time to make sure things were done right. Norah had a dressing room attached to the green room and the guys in the band shared a larger one. It was not about giving the singer her own room, although it could be viewed that way, it was simply giving the genders their own space. The work he’d put into the place would hold up for future groups to use. Norah’s dressing room was actually quite large, intended for use by several females rather than just herself.

“Ah, to be young again and able to bounce back with a nap and a few vitamins. I can only dimly remember those days.” He was, of course, joking, but there was the slightest bit of seriousness. “You are taking care of yourself then, Norah?” William had already noticed her habit of taking care of others. In some, this could manifest in a lack of care of the self.

“Sightseeing…Chicago has a lot to offer. There are museums and there’s always the Magnificent Mile, packed to the brim with every kind of shop. Would you mind terribly much if I joined you?” He wasn’t supposed to, he was well aware of that. Originally, he’d had a flight scheduled for early the next morning, but he’d already cancelled that. Taking a bit of a breather and Norah was most interesting.[/will]

[Norah Byron]

[norah]"Love for you to." She drew him into the dressing room with her by the simple expedient of wrapping a hand around his wrist and towing him along, then kicking the door shut after them. "As long as you won't mind if my idea of sightseeing is a little more--biased. I want to get out to Buddy Guy's and Shaw's Crab House and Reckless Records, maybe make it out to the Chicago Music Exchange." She grinned at him and then finally actually noticed the room.

Norah looked around the dressing room and blinked. "This didn't look like this before." A pause. "Did it?" She truly couldn't always tell, places blurred together so much on the tour. But she distinctly remembered a dingy closet with no chairs in it, just a table and mirror and not enough light.

She turned a suspicious/pleased look on William. "Did you do this? And if so, are you an actual genie? Because if you are, please tell me I didn't waste one of my three on getting this venue into shape? I've had my wishes picked out for years, if I have to cut them back by one-third it throws everything out of whack." [/norah]

[William Doyle]

[will]Following her into the dressing room was easy and he didn’t turn it into something sexual. It wasn’t. If the possibility was there, now was not the time to present it. Instead, he stole his rose back from her and found himself a little vase he’d placed specifically on a lovely little table on the back wall. The room was fully furnished, again, for multiple girls, with tables for makeup and comfortable seating and a large closet-like area for costumes. Even hasty jobs required perfection from him. The guys’ room was similar if quite a bit more masculine in style. “I am perfectly fine with going wherever you choose, Norah. I am flexible as long as I get to see you smile.” William grinned, knowing that sounded truly cheesy and really not caring.

“No, it did not. After you left, I took a look around and found more things in need of my attention than the wiring of the sound. I took care of it, because it was necessary. I wouldn’t want anyone to perform if the backstage feels like crap. That and safety is important. I’ve wrung several promises, in writing and with the threat of bloodletting, out of the owners and managers of the place. They will keep it up to my standards, or I will eat them alive.” For a brief second there a darkness in his expression. And then it was gone, faster than it had appeared. William took the safety of performers very seriously, always had.

A smile curved his lips, warm and amused. “I have been called many things over the years. But you are the first to call me a genie. I am not, but for you I could be.” It wasn’t really flirting if the promise was real. “What are your wishes, Mistress of my Lamp?” William turned to her and bowed in a parody of Jeannie, comical because his suit was so very serious and dark and there was nothing quite ‘cute’ about him.

Moving back to her, he caught her elbow and guided her over to a chair. “And please, sit while you make your wish, I’d rather you were off your feet. This is your break, take advantage of it.” He busied himself, finding her an icy bottle of water. In his own very quiet way, he was fussing over her. “Would you like a snack? If so, what would you like? I’ve stalked everything I could imagine young members of a band might appreciate.” From the sudden bouts of cheers in the green room, he could deduce that the guys had found the junk food. He also collected a cool, damp cloth from the currently makeshift bathroom (another promise he’d forced from the owners were complete bathrooms, to be finished at the earliest convenience and no later) and returned to her with both water and cloth, offering them to her.[/will]

[Norah Byron]

[norah]Not going to argue with him, especially not in four-inch heels, Norah dropped into the chair in front of the mirror and immediately slipped her shoes off, nudging them off to one side and taking off her stolen shades so that she could see William better. "If you're not a genie, you're definitely a miracle worker." She accepted the water and the damp cloth with a wide smile and used the cloth to pat across her upper chest and shoulders, soothing away some of the heat and sweat that had collected as she worked under the lights. She wished she dared do the same to her face, but it would take at least 20 minutes to put the makeup back on and she didn't want to waste the time.

"If you really want to make my wish come true, come be my road manager." She grinned to show that she wasn't the least bit serious, he had to have a thousand better things to do with his time and talents. "Or, better yet, have a seat and tell me about this charity you were here to talk about?" Norah was, as strange as it sounded, sort of shopping around for a favorite charity right now. She had a level of disposable income that was frankly obscene and even she could only buy so many shoes. It seemed to her that it was time for her to start giving back for all the unearned goodness that had come into her life. But every time she went to look into it she got overwhelmed. So many worthy causes, how were you supposed to decide?[/norah]

[William Doyle]

[will]He grinned and hurried off to grab an apple. Pulling a chair up, he sat facing her, playing with the apple in his hands. “Miracle worker, I can take. Used to be in the entertainment business. Before Hollywood, I did theater. I learned my miracle workers abilities there. Never onstage, you guys get spoiled too much,” he winked teasingly, “but I spent a lot of time stage managing or assisting the director or otherwise involved in the actual production. Sometimes, some miracles are needed to sooth ruffled feathers and to fix last minute crises.”

William laughed. “Road manager? Me? I don’t think I can put myself on the road, not with my suits. You would need a whole second coach for me. I’m a prima donna, Norah. Not going to pretend differently.” Which was entirely a lie; he was a man who adjusted rather easily to changes in his schedule. Had to be adjustable if one was going to rise the way he had.

Her question brought seriousness to his face once more. “Furrever Homes. It’s a nationwide no-kill shelter for animals. Dogs and cats, generally speaking, as they’re the ones who get thrown out most often. There’s a lot of collaboration done with the local no-kills, and I have a particular fondness for helping out the small places who are trying to get the stray population neutered or spayed. I’ll be honest, it’s a losing battle. Thousands of animals die every day in the Humane Society. That doesn’t make the place evil, but they aren’t no-kill and they don’t have the room for the amount of animals that come in. I started Furrever Homes after I learned the statistics. You send your beloved dog to the Humane Society and it has, at best, three days left. Maybe more if it’s lucky. If it’s sick or too old or too aggressive, they’ll put it down without question. Far too many animals come in, more than they can possibly handle. Even with the numerous local no-kill shelters available, the intake is far higher than the output.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s a losing battle. I’m fighting backyard breeders and owners who toss their cats out on the streets when they move. It’s a sad story, but we’re doing the best we can. To me, these animals are like children. They depend on us and we betray them over and over again. I have dogs in my home, and cats. I can afford it despite my active life because I managed to convince my family to live in my home. Okay, mansion, every family unit has their own wing.” And, really, it was a lot like living in a condo unit, he’d set it up that way on purpose so that no one would feel crowded and yet no one would feel like the place was too big.[/will]

[Norah Byron]

[norah]"Oh." She pooched out her bottom lip, all thoughtful and concerned. "I don't know if we can have somebody traveling with us who has a bigger wardrobe than I do. That just doesn't work. I'm supposed to be the diva in this group."

She kicked out long, skinny, pale legs and rested her feet on his knee. The twist of her body as she sat was sexual, enticing, and totally unconscious. Norah had been playing up the Virgin/Vamp thing since she was fifteen and performing for groups of high school kids at small clubs' all-ages nights. By now it was buried so deep in her psyche that she didn't notice she was doing it, only ever noticed when she stopped. Right now, her attention was on William and what he was saying about the shelter.

"So how is it that you go about making a difference? I mean, I get that every dollar helps. But in the larger view, when you've got a finite amount of money to put to charity, how do you know you'll be having the maximum impact? Is it better to put your money into a single small charity where it means the difference between making rent or not? Or better to put it into one of the big ones like the Red Cross where they have the infrastructure to put every dollar to where it's needed most and get the maximum value for what they spend?"[/norah]