A Night at the Roxbury (now hiring)

Welcome one and all to the Roxbury!

Family owned and operated since May 2006, the Roxbury has been known for the caliber of guests it welcomes through it's doors. Tragically blown up by a mysterious student only known as "Jesus of Suburbia" in August of the same year, it was sorely missed by every visitor it ever had.

In early 2009, one visitor who was so touched by the old-styled club decided it had been far too long since she had been to a bar with the same kind of atmosphere and fantastic food. No place she discovered could possibly replace the times she'd had behind the doors of the Roxbury...so she decided to build.

It took several years of hard work, but it truly was a labor of love. Brick by brick was laid on the old still smoldering foundation of the Roxbury. Though it could never be exactly the Roxbury everyone knew and loved, she knew that it could try its best.

Now, in June of 2011, the Roxbury opens again to a new generation. With hopes that the new Roxbury can attract a similar crowd of colorful individuals, she hangs a plaque over the upholstered brown leather doors:

"In Memoriam of the Original Roxbury
May 7, 2006-August 21, 2006"

"Hello, my name is Luna" she says wiping off a newly stained cherry-wood bar, "what can I get for you today?"

-------
The Roxbury is a one-level bar and club. There are a set of bathrooms (gender-specific) and an extra one for staff that resides behind the bar. There are four separate rooms in the Roxbury.

One is the general sitting room by the entrance. There are a set of comfortable chairs and couches surrounding a fireplace that is lit almost constantly. Next to the fireplace is a small alcove filled with wood from out back. A constant supply is maintained. On the tables next to the sofas and chairs are some playing cards, cigars, lighters, and candles. One table has a bowl filled with individually wrapped peppermints. There is a staircase in the far corner of the room with a sign over the archway that reads: "STAFF ONLY". It goes to the upper-level where the owner lives.

On the back wall of the sitting room are two doors. One is labeled "To the Bar" and the other "To the Club".

Should you walk through the one that leads to the bar, you will find yourself in a relatively large room with a shining brand-new cherry-wood bar table. On the wall behind it are any kind of alcohol you could possibly want and an array of old memorabilia: signed posters from The Who and Gorillaz, a golden record of an unnamed origin, a novelty singing fish from the 1990's, and various other unrecognizable things. Drinking glasses hang from a wooden shelving unit over where a bartender stands smiling at you (if you enter during open hours, anyway).

Should you walk through the door to the club, you will find yourself in a turn of the century jazz club. An array of tables and chairs fills the area in front of the stage. The tables are all covered white table clothes with a light candle resting on each of them. The stage is complete with a microphone, a baby grand piano, an upright bass, a drum set, and velvety red curtains. To the right of the door you entered from is a swinging set of doors that seem to lead to the bar and kitchen, though on the doors is another "STAFF ONLY" label. To the left of the door you came through is another door labeled: "VIP SECTION".

If you ever find yourself worthy of this, and few do, you will find yourself in another sitting room. Hanging around the walls nearest the ceiling are white Christmas lights. They reflect off the all mirror ceiling that gives the room even more brightness. There are a few arcade consoles against the walls of the room. The games appear to be: Classic Mario, Pac Man, and Street Fighter. There is also an air hockey table next to the game consoles. The couches are black leather and smell as if they were recently bought. The room smells sweet, a mixture of apple pie and a really good expensive drink at a bar.

All of the rooms except the ones labeled otherwise are welcome to visitors.

-------

NEWS: The Roxbury has just recently opened and we are looking for staff members!

STAFF:

Owner- Luna (Loony_Luna). A relatively short girl (around 4'11") with a very unpredictable personality. She lives above the bar in a small flat that is closed off to visitors unless explicitly allowed. Most staff are not allowed up there and the same goes for VIPs.

Bartender- Jonesy James (Jadetha_Hel)

Bouncer- Abel (Genesis48_10)

Housekeeping- Sue Everhart (Nutmeg1992)

POSITIONS AVAILABLE:

Bouncer
General Security
Nightly entertainment (booked generally for one-time appearance)
Chef
Housekeeping

VIP LIST:
Luna (Loony_Luna/owner)


Have fun kiddies, and don't forget to tip generously!

A fairly tall girl enters the bar as soon as it's deemed 'open' for the day, and approaches the bar. "'Scuse me, miss?," her voice has a heavy Jersey accent with a slight lisp. "You're taking applications, right? I heard what happened with the last bar... It's a shame, really." Her voice doesn't seem to fit her appearance, she sounds like a young teen. Shaky hands slide the already filled out papers.

"M'name's Jonesy James, and I'm interested in being a bartender." She shifts, the thick heels of her boots clicking the floor lowly.

A single glance would register her as another random 'punk' or 'goth' chick in most people's minds. Her hair is black, with neon green streaks, that reaches to her mid-back, and pulled up in a messy bun. Her outfit is normal enough; Black skinny jeans, a baby pink tanktop. However, her body structure makes it seem like she should be in another outfit.
Her hips are wide, what most would call 'childbearing hips', and her chest is large, naturally filling out the top more than anybody rightfully should.

"And I've got my I.D. right here..." She pulls out the slim plastic card from a plain wallet, sliding it next to the paper. "Heh. Sorry, I'm a bit nervous. This is the first job I've ever applied for..."

Luna looks up from the shining bar. A smile crosses her lips as she sees the young wide-eyed girl in front of her. She reaches forward and pulls the papers toward her, scanning them with her eyes, the suddenly picking them up and crumpling them up into a ball. The papers quickly find themselves in the bin.

"Why don't you come over here with me and have a seat?" Luna says in a sweet voice. She walks out of the bar and into the sitting room, a barely lit fire still going. She motions toward one of the many comfortable seats for Jonesy to sit in as she grabs a brass fire-poker and begins to stoke the fire. "Where are you from, Jonesy? You've got quite the accent on yourself." She replaces the brass tool back in the rack where she had gotten it and joins the young girl, sitting on the couch across from the seat she motioned Jonesy to sit in. She crosses her legs and fumbles around on the table for a lighter and cigarette that she lights as she continues. "I'm sorry if I've caused any confusion, but I'd prefer to verbally interview you rather than look at a piece of overly complicated writing." she takes a puff and waits for a response from the nervous girl.

Jonesy's head nods slightly, her nervousness seeming to double as she sits across from the smiling woman. "I'm from Jersey." She bites her lip, eyes darting around the comfortable interior surrounding them. "I ain't got much of a story, but I can answer anything ya ask, ma'am."
Her eyes meet those of Luna's, holding her gaze as a calmness washes over her. She leans back, allowing herself to relax just a bit.
One hand grasps a stray lock of hair, twirling it round and round while she waits for the interview to begin.

"Well then" Luna mumbles taking another drag off her fag. She closes her eyes for a moment, her face pensive, as if trying to word her next statement to be sure she doesn't startle the girl any more than she already appears to be. Her eyes open slowly, and a smile crosses her lips. She takes another drag and taps the ash off in the crystal ashtray on the small wooden table. Her legs uncross themselves and she chuckles, leaning forward. A decent sized lump of hair falls loose from the bun it was tied up in, falling over her forehead and down to far below her neckline. She swoops it back behind her ear, it once again mingling with the rest of the mousy colored hair on her head. "Answer me this, if you wouldn't mind, and answer it honestly." She leans forward even more, her elbows resting on her knees. Her voice is almost a whisper as she asks "...why are you so nervous and fidgety, girl? Are you hiding something?"

She blinks a few times, eyes falling to her lap, where her fingers are now twisting together. "No, ma'am, can't say I am. I just ain't never been interviewed, and TV shows and movies make it look so scary and nerve-wracking, I guess it affected me like this." The corners of her lips turn slightly upward in a sad sort of smile as her gaze rises back up. She lifts a hand to her mouth, nibbling lightly around her thumbnail and the skin around it, her legs shifting once, twice, and a third time before finally resting.

"And please forgive the less than professional appearance, I was in a bit of a rush..."

Luna's voice erupts in laughter. "Sweetie" she manages to say in between bouts of laughter. She finally manages to control herself, taking yet another calming drag before she looks up at the nervous and probably confused girl. "You're applying for a position at a bar...since when did bartenders dress in a suit?" She smiles and stands up, the still smoldering fag hanging between her lips. She waltzes over to Jonesy and extends her hand. "I just finished building this place last week and opened it today. Of course you get the job..." her smile fades into a more serious, oddly professional expression. "Just...don't disappoint me, alright?" her other hand takes the fag from her mouth as she exhales sweet smoke, and the smile returns to her face as she looks around the room. "The only thing I ask of you is that you don't poison anyone or...be rude to any of our guests. The Roxbury was known for the odd..er crowd she attracted. Keep that in mind, hun."

With a yawn, Abel dropped off the bus with an easygoing grace and dropped into a rolling gait. Plodding his way down the street, he stopped in front of an older-styled, burned out old building and looked around in confusion. A piece of the classified ad clutched in his hand read the address that he was looking at two feet in front of his face, but there was no way this could be the place. It was all... old.

The Roxbury was empty, as he expected, only two or three girls there by the bar when he walked in. One of them was in a suit; Abel felt underdressed in his ripped jeans and thin grey hoodie.

"I'm looking for Luna; has anybody seen her?"

Luna turned to the door, taking another drag off her almost finished fag. "Sorry Jonesy, I'll be back". Her body turned toward Abel, and another smirk crossed her face. "You look confused, boy." she said, a sarcastic grin still spread on her lips. "I'm Luna. How may I help you?" she looked the stranger up and down, wondering if there was a story behind his appearance or if it was just one of those stupid new fashion trends. She took a final drag, and smothered the butt in a nearby ashtray before she proceeded toward Abel.

Abel grinned stupidly as he felt her eyes rake over him- his too long pants; too short t-shirt; his black and white adidas that just barely fit, dirty and grimy; his unwashed, shaggy black hair. ...Well, not all of them were his, but the man he had grabbed them off of wasn't going to use them anymore. He idly wondered for a moment if she caught the little specks of blood on the bright blue shirt he was wearing underneath the hoodie.

With a chuckle, he thrust the classified ad at her. "You're hiring, and I think I can make the cut."

"Ah yes" she noticed the crumpled bit of paper in his hand. "You saw my wanted advert, didn't you?" She proceeded back to the circle of comfortable furniture and retook her seat on the chair. "Come, have a seat" she said as she motioned to the couch Jonesy was sitting on. She reached into the pack of fags and brought another one to her lips as she flicked a green lighter. "So tell me" she said, slightly muffled by the fag in her mouth. She light it and smoke billowed around the room once more. "What position have you come to apply for? Do you have a resume I can see...or are you just walking in and expecting me to hire you?" she took a drag, blowing the smoke out in perfect rings, awaiting his reply.

He did as he was told and sat, pulling a box of his own from his pocket and lighting one up. A bad habit he had picked up in prison, he couldn't help but have one when he smelled smoke. "Should we be smoking in a bar famed for burning down?" He asked with an easy laugh. His accent was hard to place, lightly British, but with a twinge of southern American.

He quirked his eyebrow at Luna's inquiry of a resume. He had to stop himself from dropping an ear on the table from his last victim. It was subtle, sure, but enough to throw anyone off, and he did want this job, oddly enough. "A resume for security? Isn't this good enough?" He pulled a large knife from his pocket and slammed it into the table, blade down. Slightly wet, it dripped down and blood filled the fresh crease. Looking up at Luna, he grinned madly like a child eager for acceptance and encouragement.

Luna's face became rather serious at the mention of the Old Roxbury. "For your information" she said with the fag still hanging from her lips "it didn't burn down because of an accident. A vandal who people only remember as 'Jesus of suburbia' blew it up because of rumors of it closing. No one wanted it to close or be burnt down. It was to be a monument of the good times had...not a smoldering pile of ash. I can remember Tommy...vowing revenge...but he went back to his boarding school and wasn't seen of much after the school closed."

Luna stopped for a moment, looking upset. She closed her eyes, took a drag, slowly exhaled the smoke, and once again maintained her composure. When she opened her eyes she saw the bloody dagger in Abel's hand. "Woah, why is it covered in blood?" she asked, seeming startled. "I'm not sure if I can hire someone off the street with blood on his clothes, no resume, and a bloody knife!" she chuckled, looking at his face for any sign of emotion at all, or an answer as to why he was bloody. She knew now there had to be a story behind his ripped jeans, no matter how cliche it sounded.

Abel burst into laughter, hand still on the knife. He laughed so hard his laugh lost voice and became silent. Taking a moment or two, breathing hard, he stopped laughing for just long enough to say, "You noticed the blood? Excellent. You're a rare one; I definitely didn't expect that."

Sighing, and gaining his breath back, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blade off before slipping it into a hidden pocket inside the back of his jeans. "Dear, I don't have a formal resume of sorts... It's more, er, eclectic. I can tell you about it if you want, but you've got to promise you want it." His childish grin was back at full, staring at Luna with a glimmer in his eyes that said: I've got a secret.

Now, Luna was intrigued. She smirked and took another drag. "Well, let's hear it."

She crossed her legs, leaned back, and got comfortable, expecting a good story. These were the reasons she spent three years starving to rebuild this place: the colorful characters. There had been a whole slew of individuals om the property before, and they always seemed to have good stories. In fact, the old owner didn't even exist! His name was Figment and he claimed to be only the product of imagination (and his floating around the rafters seemed to quite the evidence that he, in fact, was).

She looked to Jonesy, wondering why the girl had been so quiet while Abel had made his entrance. Was she scared? Suddenly, Luna noticed something in the corner of Abel's eye. She could read it, that little gleam, she'd seen it so many times before. "and please," she said calmly, "don't spare any details". She took another drag.