  Modelling is such a tough business to break into. She started so many years ago, and has still not found her fame, nor her fortune. She has tried so many different areas. Runway, magazine, soft-core porn, and even those lame ads for car dealerships and online casinos. And so here she is. Sitting silently in that bar where her and her friends would waste away their Saturday nights all those years ago, she silently sips a Caeser, stirring the drink slowly with the stalk of celery.
Bankrupt. How did that happen? Divorced. Didn't even see it coming. She took everything. The money, the money is nothing.
His entire life has been a constand cycle of bankruptcy, turning life around, amassing huge amounts of wealth, and losing it all over again. The kids. That is what hurts. She took the kids and moved back to New York, leaving him here, alone, in a house that is about to be repossessed by the bank. Not that the house matters to him, either. The money he made and everything he ever bought was always for her.
Life has always felt so empty for him. This bar reminds him of the places him and his friends would stop at on their long road trips. How he longed for those days back, just him and his three best friends, cruising around the country in Scott's 15 passenger van. Old man sitting in a young man's bar. That's how she would describe the guy. After some careful thought, she realizes that's exactly how she must look, sitting here, all by herself, watching the girls dancing while the boys fight over who will buy which one a drink.
Nothing has changed here. The boys still all watch the one or two girls who know how to shake their ass the best, while the smart girls with subtle, but still sexy features go unnoticed by all the a few guys. She always wanted to meet one of those guys, but the modelling profession that consumed the better part of her life always prevented it. Everyone she came in contact with just wanted to do drugs, have sex, and brag about her to their friends. The old man sitting in a young man's bar looks over at her, and she quickly looks away. Those eyes.
There's something about those eyes. Vaguely familiar, from a time long ago. She saw him looking at her, she turned away almost as quickly as he did. She obviously had a few years behind her, but she was still goregeous. God, how many women had he looked at in this exact same way? Thousands?
Hundreds of thousands? Instead of looking at everyone of the opposite gender as a potential mate or girlfriend, try looking at them as a sister in Christ. That's what the priest had told him all those years ago, before the road trips, before the binge drinking, before the one night stands. Thirteen years old. What a great time it was for him. The friends he had then had never really been replaced, though as his belief in things such as God and Heaven waned over the years, he fell out of contact with them.
Sure, he still believed in a God of some sort, but not the same one they did. And so, they prayed and prayed for him. Those were the days. Before the internet exploded into consumer culture, before the wars initiated by the cowboy president in Afghanistan and Iraq and Korea and a few years later in Cuba and China. One of his friends from elementary school had been killed in action in China. What was his name again?
He sits. Stroking the cat. He is bored. Life has been feeling so wasted lately. Such educational pursuits as downloading porn and listening to "You're Pretty When I'm Drunk" by the Bloodhound Gang just aren't fulfilling him anymore. People fill their lives with such trivial things.
A young woman flashes on his screen. Such a beautiful lady, reduced to nothing more than a nameless promotion for an equally nameless casino. Gambling never really appealed to him. As he is about to close the window that has interrupted his game of solitare, he notices her eyes. Beautiful. Shimmering.
Sad. He doubts she was supposed to look sad, and without a real close inspection, you wouldn't be able to see it. He wonders what she is doing at that very moment. Sitting at home, reading the TV Guide, not really wanting to watch TV, but with the shoot tomorrow, she can't go out. Dark circles under eyes are surely not a models best friend. She settles on a re-run of a sitcom she grew tired of long ago.
She's reminded of high school, and Nathan Moore. Her first, and only true love. His real name was Johnathan. They would spend endless summer nights under the stars, watching meteor showers or just watching the stars inch slowly accross the sky until the sun would come up. Some nights, she hated the sun. She hated the fact that it meant he had to leave.
But he did leave. And later, she would walk away from him, leaving him kneeling there with a diamond engagment ring. She would never see him again, although she tried. Here. It's an unfinished rough draft. Heh.
Get it? I will leave it here unti it's done. I will change it and add to it when i get the chance. It's a rough draft. I get it. 
