Temperance’s stomach had been a wrecking ball of nerves. The Tattoo Expo was scheduled to run for a short three days would be the first real event which could bring multiple newcomers into The Metronome Club. Folks flaunting their wondrous curves dressed with colorful array of ink in varying designs. Her nerves stemmed from the fact as co-owner there were a few untidy items in need of resolve after the great storm smacked Harper Rock. Temperance and Cristina did their best to call top contractors and inspectors to ensure the building would be structurally sound due to the large number of guests they were expecting. Aside from cracks in the exterior brick and mortar, and the outdoor sign in need of repairs. The interior bar top had to be re-secured, few broken water sewage pipes in the bathrooms, a scrub of every single inch of wall, decor, furniture, glass and dish. They had to pass inspection with flying colors and they did.
Prior to the arrangement of this event, Temperance had no knowledge of The Harper Rock Sun magazine or its affiliations with the community. From this day forward she would make a personal note to be more conscious. For the stated event, she had taken a few calls and helped arranged delivery of extra tables and chairs, moving men to reposition some of The Metronome’s normal atmosphere to make room for any large displays in which others may need to show off their wares. There was a few designated areas with extra power outlets special for anyone in need of heavy machinery to perform sample or full bodied tattoos. Appetizer and drink list inventory was doubled along with an additional supply of toothpicks, plastic solo cups, napkins, and commercial garbage cans (strategically placed near eating counters). They even bumped up the staff and brought in soft yellow fluorescent lighting to illuminate the special works of art.
She knew she would make an appearance but was not quite sure what to wear, which was somewhat of a rare thing for Temperance. She always had just the right formal gown, flowing skirt, heeled shoes for any occasion. However, something as grounded as a tattoo expo would cater to those barely wearing rather than covered head to toe in material from a store. A hint of her wondered if a Henna booth would be here. She knew it was not the same as permanent ones. Nor the same level of pain (or passion for some) while receiving a design. She knew these artists took pride in their work. Often the same pride she took when dressing for occasions such as these. After a few moments in front of her closet, Temperance pulled a black number. It was made of patterned bead work, sheer black fabric over a nude base. Broad shoulder straps of the
dress came down to a comfortable V pattern in both front and back across her shoulders. Revealing an edge of a simple drawing-a winged-cross tattoo on her right shoulder blade. It was black in color. The pattern of her A line dress repeated down the small of her waist, hips, and ending just above the knee. She wore strappy leather four inch heels and had a small silver clutch to finish the look. A few pins tucked short wavy locks into a cute pulled back style. She was ready to go.
The tightly wound ball sat at the pit of her stomach and unraveled slowly as she stepped foot into the main floor. There she could not miss the beaming yellow sign and red lettering for the local magazine. A smile lifted the corners of her lips. She hoped the event would be a success and perhaps bring additional patrons afterwards to enjoy the clubs normal scheduled entertainment. Crystal blue eyes roamed the room to seek out any imperfection that would spoil the affair. With a snap of her fingers she could simply have it removed. Even if it were to contact the local authorities for matters beyond the establishments control, though Crissy was much better with these types of situations.
Relief swarmed through her veins as low hustle and bustle carried on with a low hum. Few staff passed through to spot check areas for cleanliness. She was pleased with the service thus far. She walked towards the brightly dressed booth in which cotton shirts were being distributed to the passerby's. A woman in a simple 'day at the beach' outfit stood nearby. She did not recognize her at all and was not too sure if she was new in town or just another face in the crowd.
"Greetings. I do hope you are enjoying your time here." She opened with a line of simple conversation. Then a thought came to mind,
she may have overdressed for the occasion, however she was the co-owner of the establishment after-all and impressions were made in the first few seconds of a meet. The allurist would rather show her business-like style than fit into a specific crowd in which she most likely did not have that much in common, aside from admiring the art.
