carlavespucci

[carlavespucci]

Carla glanced over to make sure the man was fully engrossed in chatting up the woman to his other side before she snickered. "Believe me, you did me a favor by taking that drink. I thought he would never shut up. You know it's bad when the lawyer is saying someone likes the sound of their own voice too much."

So far, the atmosphere was familiar. Loud voices, boozy drinks. Add in three simultaneous, overexuberant arguments and it could almost be Sunday dinner. Except for the fighting ring in the middle of the room. "No, I haven't. But you know I couldn't let you guys fight without being here to cheer you on."

"This is why you're everyone's favourite, Carla."

It wasn't even hyperbole. Gianna wasn't sure she'd ever met someone as universally liked as the woman before her, and she was no exception. Better yoinking her shot than a Russian who'd take her head off before the fighting even began. The Brit wiggled her fingers at the bartender in search or more alcohol. A few more wouldn't hurt. Reaction times were less of a concern when fighting was fucking innate, and frankly, if she was going to have to stare down a Russian to finish off the women's rounds, liquor was a necessity as opposed to a gift.

Gianna's expression resembled something akin to concerned for a moment, before it eased off again as she settled onto the empty stool. Whilst it was no secret Carla had grown up in a crime-adjacent life, seeing it on such bold display was another thing entirely. "You ever been to something like this before?"

[carlavespucci]

It was poor form to ignore the shot sitting in front of her, but in Carla's defense, the man who bought it for her was the one to strike up the conversation. Not that it was much of a conversation. More of a monologue, if she was being truly honest.

Three polite attempts to end the conversation later, a familiar voice echoed beside her, saving Carla from her fate. She opened her mouth to greet Gianna with a smile, but instead stood there gaping as the other woman helped herself to the shot sitting in front of her. "You know what? You look like you needed that more than I did."

@mobscene-starters Event: Fight Club 2025 - Pre Fights.

If Lara was trying to be a petty bitch, she'd missed the mark by an impressive margin. Whilst Konstantin's wife's personal bodyguard probably wouldn't have been Gianna's first choice, all she'd wanted was a Russian. Any one would do.

Would it be an easy fight? Probably not. But Gianna was quietly confident.

"This yours?" There was a shot laying unattended on the bar—well, in front of someone too busy talking to drink it, at least—and she didn't hesitate to help herself. Awful. Of course, she'd order another round for them, but fuck waiting ten minutes when her nerves needed tempering. "Mine now."

[carlavespucci]

Carla Beneventi-Vespucci attends Fight Club 2025

[carlavespucci]

Sitting at an already occupied table was a cardinal sin as far as Carla was concerned. She'd spent her fair share of time sprawled out in coffee shops and cafes, typing furiously and reading opinions until the letters all blurred together. That space was sacred and she respected it.

Unfortunately, there were no empty tables to choose from and there was only so long she could stand in the middle of the cafe looking like an idiot with her pastry and coffee mug.

Her gaze settled on a woman typing away furiously at her laptop. If there were both engrossed in their work, maybe it would be less awkward.

The stare as she pulled the chair away said otherwise.

"I am so sorry. I promise I won't interrupt your work, I just....didn't have any other options." Carla gestured at the other occupied tables.

FOR: OPEN TO ALL. TAGS: @mobscene-starters WHEN: March, 2025. WHERE: Islington Café.

Time kept moving, just as the world continued to spin: that was the two certainties she had no qualms or doubts about. And it showed no interest in slowing down. Spring was upon them, soon summers arrival — and she'd made only minor leads in the past months. It was like she was being tested, and the days grew longer when her brother was out there, choosing this life over her. It both ground her gears and tore her apart.

Tapping away, the early morning had promised blue skies, and they'd been correct. A coffee settled next to her, Amélie wrote away, albeit furiously as she tried to work out her frustrations with her own novel.

Almost complete, just on the edge of being finished. Even if no one ever read it, the accomplishment of saying she'd done it had far outweighed the cons. Though, to say she was proud of what she'd produced was understatement. She wasn't often big-headed, but...

she had a good feeling about this book.

About to head into the second to last chapter, she heard the scrapping on the chair at her table as her eyes locked onto the intruder. She didn't speak, simply stared.

Oh god. (Father, forgive me for the blasphemy.)

[carlavespucci]

Carla breathed in the cool air, exhaling it slowly and with a smile. It was nice to get out of the city (temporarily, she wasn't entertaining delusions of moving to the countryside) and let things slow down. Her life at the moment was studying and learning as much as she could about British law and a break was something she desperately needed. Even being crammed into a tent with two strangers and having to pay for her own drinks did nothing to dampen her spirits.

"It really is. It's nice to take a little bit of a break from London. Now, ask me again on Sunday if I still feel that way or if I'm begging for my phone back."

@mobscene-starters

To say that Izabele was in her element was quite the understatement. Growing up, their family had very little which meant that the only fun they ever had was something either free or affordable, which meant they'd taken many a camping trip. Growing up with 2 older brothers, she'd been a tom boy for a majority of her childhood before becoming part of the modeling scene.

Her boots squished deliciously as she searched out her tent. She was observing some people throwing tantrum and she had to cover her mouth as she walked by a brunette who was struggling to walk on the ground because she'd brought, of all things, heels. To a camp out.

Tell me you know little about the outdoors, without telling me you know little about the outdoors.

She took a deep breath, breathing in the fresh air. Having been partnered with Sveta was a blessing. She wasn't sure if she'd ever met the other woman before, but she supposed she soon would. Though...how 3 people would share a small tent, she didn't know.

"It's beautiful out, don't you think?" She asked a person as she walked back to the main part of the camp site.

[carlavespucci]

"My number? Oh you really do have no shame." Carla's lips twisted up into a smirk. Of course, where was the fun in giving in right away? Working just a little bit harder wouldn't hurt him. "I'll tell you what, I'll give you a digit for every time you impress me. How's that sound?" Without waiting for an answer, Carla grabbed a cocktail napkin and a pen from her purse and wrote down two digits.

So his friends were like every other group of guys she'd met in her life. It was like being back in college or law school again where everyone traveled in packs and egged each other on. At least some things in life were constant.

"Well, I have a Bachelor's in Criminal Justice and a J.D. from Belmonte University, so I'll let you decide if that makes me smart." Carla flashed him a smile before reaching for her drink as the bartender placed it in front of them. She took a sip, glancing away from Ben for a moment as she did. Bragging wasn't very "demure" or "mindful" of her, but well, Ben did leave the door wide open for her.

"Everyone has to start somewhere. Sounds like your boss has at least some interest in developing your career if she's giving you advice on top of menial tasks." Another sip and a glance back at him. "I'm a lawyer. Defense lawyer, actually. I was a public defender back in Launceston, but I will hopefully be joining a private firm here, as long as the UK says I can practice law."

"I'm not five," head falling back, lips tilting into an upward line. Benjamin Vox was fucking smiling. "Your number? Now that's a prize I'd be willing to accept." because there was one thing that could always be counted on when it came to Benjamin — his boldness. Some would've argued that Melissa was rubbing off on him, but in all honesty...he just wasn't willing to bet on anything anymore. He took what he wanted.

And right now, it was this beautiful creature stood in front of him.

"Uh, my friends are assholes. Love them, but they'd be up here saying the same shit, but worse." And he wasn't lying. His parents had at least been educated on moral ethics, while George and Mike had the same background as him...Daniel and Jackson were born and bred South London.

Even as he ordered their drinks, turning to face her, he could clearly see his friends, all grouped together like they were watching the season finale of Love Island (that everyone but their girlfriends, and close friends knew they were obsessed with.). The second Carla looked away, he showed them the middle finger — they were gonna put him off if they carried on.

Still, the second she said her name, he tipped his head. "Carla," he repeated, jutting his lip in a nod. "Pretty, alright girl, shouldn't be able to have it all...next thing you're gonna' tell me you're smart too...then I just know you're outta' my fuckin' league." But that smile didn't match. Cheeky, full-of-life, interested.

“Day job?" Half-truth, half-lie. It was exactly what Melissa would've done. "I work in an office — I'm just an assistant. Y'know, fetching coffee, buffing the boss's feathers when she's had a bad day.” which, now, was more often than not. But let live, he silently joked. "She's...a force to be reckoned with...and that's all I can say because she knows everyone around here."

Shoulders jump into a shrug. "She ain't all bad tho. What about you?" I got a feelin' it's gonna' be something...interesting, at least."

[carlavespucci]

"Do you want a gold star for achieving basic adulthood?" Oh, he was good. "Might have to knock points off for bashing your friends. Or mates, as I think you call them? There really is no loyalty in the trenches, is there?"

She took her own position beside the bar, climbing up onto a stool instead of remaining standing. Heels were for looking cute and Instagram, not standing.

"It's nice to meet you, Ben. I'm Carla." She ordered an espresso martini from the bartender before turning her attention back to Ben. "So, what do you do with a boss that would clip you over the ears for stumbling while chatting up a girl?"

He caught it, just for a moment, a splash of red on his cheeks, followed by hers and looked away just as quickly to hide the budding grin that was now practically beaming. Calm down lad, you ain't even brought her a drink yet.

"Just letting you know I have a job unlike some of these losers," his chin nodding towards his friends, who were all clambering over each other like they were getting front seats to an Ardee concert. "Just making sure that the due diligence is done, then I can go about wooing you with my obvious lack of charm."

He might've been like a puppy, but she was a fucking model.

What did she do...fall down from -- he stopped himself. No, an internal scold. You do not use such fucking cheesy lines. By the time he got to the bar, he'd lost some of that earlier bravado, but not enough. Leaning against the counter, he crossed one foot at his ankle, and his elbow propped him up.

"So..." tipping his head. "I'm Benjamin. Ben, if you want..." trailing off, waiting for her name. He couldn't keep calling her pretty girl, it'd eventually become some akin to a creeper. And that just wouldn't fucking do.

[carlavespucci]

Heat spread across Carla's cheeks and she ducked her head for a moment, just a moment, in an attempt to compose herself. She was not going to cave this early and on such a low hanging line.

"Talking about your boss while hitting on someone is an interesting strategy. And before giving your name on top of it." He was like a little puppy. Golden retriever or really excitable pitbull, if she had to put a breed to it. While on some people it would be excessive, there was just enough earnestness to really sell it.

Clearing her throat, Carla nodded and started to follow after the man. "What? Are you afraid of a little competition? You've already proven you're the fastest, but do you have the stamina to go along with it?"

Fuck, she was even prettier up close.

If there was one thing that Benjamin Vox liked...it was being told what to do. If anyone around him was asked if they agreed, they would all agree. It was the only way he'd survived Melissa Lin, the way he had, and climbed the ranks to get to where he'd got. And still, to his fucking surprise, he stuttered.

"Are you always this pretty?" He countered: that cheeky boyish grin that had won him favours blossomed onto his features: ocean orbs glinting.

"Usually, more so, I think my boss would've probably clipped me round' the ear for how pathetic I sound right now." Use your words. It was like Melissa was inside his head all the fucking time. Honestly, it was the classic 'What Would Melissa Do' in all situations for him. Not giving himself time to overthink it, he flashed that hundred-watt smile, taking one step backwards, then a second, his arms shot on either side of him. "What you watin' for then? Let's go."

He paused for only a moment to turn on his heel. "Before someone tries to steal you."

[carlavespucci]

The second Carla pushed the door open, She wondered if she was making a big mistake. She didn't know anything about the bar beforehand, she'd just chosen it at random among the seemingly endless bars in the city. Her new city still didn't feel like home yet and sitting at home in sweats with a glass of wine and Grey's Anatomy reruns wouldn't do anything to change that.

But, she wasn't quite sure that being accosted by every man under the age of 40 in the bar would either.

There was something amusing about watching the boys tripping over themselves to get to her first. And extremely good for the ego.

"Are you always this articulate?"

Carla looked the man up and down. He was cute, there was no denying that. And adorably earnest.

"I'll give you a hint. This is the part where you offer to buy me a drink."

FOR: @carlavespucci WHEN: October 2024. WHERE: Social Beer and Wine Company.

Laughter was boisterous at his table tonight, it was rare that he and the boys still got to hang out, or all be around together at the same damn time. And while he was having the absolute time of his life, Benjamin couldn't stop himself -- checking his phone once more, and sighed: where the fuck was Benny? Late, no doubt. Zoe hadn't answered either, which was enough to have his jaw ticking -- and his friends had been quick to remind him that he was treading a line he should've stayed very fucking clear of. But what was life without a little bit of temptation?

That thought stopped him in his tracks when he heard the door open, his mind thinking it was a friend...oh, how he was mistaken. Through those doors, walked a woman. One he'd never seen before, and this was his local. A few "fuckin hells" could be heard, when the boys around the table followed his eye line. It wasn't exactly common to see pretty women in here.

It was what they called an Old Mans Pub.

"I think I should..." one of his friends started, pushing their chair out from behind him, but Benjamin was already moving, a cheeky grin on his face. He needed this...to leave his phone behind. The Rutherfords. He needed to be a man in his twenties.

"Sorry lads, you snooze, you lose."

It wasn't a quiet exchange, three boys practically tripping over themselves until Ben made it in front of her. A look of realisation now crossed his face. Fuck. What was he gonna say???

"Hi."

[carlavespucci]

"Vespucci's. It's just up the street there." Carla pointed at the building just up the road. From the outside it might just look like one of many restaurants nestled around Little Italy. And some of the others were good in their own rights. But, Vespucci's was home in a way the others never would be. "Well, it's my mother's restaurant to start. So, if I didn't say it was the best, I'd probably be disowned. And it's the family recipes. Which, we Italians take very seriously."

"Vespu...I'm sorry, where?" In all honesty, Nevra hadn't been heading anywhere in particular. She'd just come off an intense training session with her new trainer and she was trying her best to keep the blood on her knuckles from staining her jacket. She'd stuffed them unceremoniously in the pockets at the sound of the woman's voice. Now the brunette was scrambling to answer normally. "That's a pretty big claim if you ask me. What makes it so good?"

[carlavespucci]

Location: Streets of Camden Date: September 23rd, 2024

@mobscene-starters

Maybe it was the fact that her family and everyone else she cared about were in London, or the fact that she barely had time to leave Little Italy with all of her studying, but Carla wasn't homesick for Launceston. There was even Dunkin' and pumpkin spice lattes, what more did a Massachusetts girl really even need?

Her exam was coming up sooner than she liked and really, Carla needed to study. Nearly a decade of law practice didn't matter when it was another country's laws. True, she didn't need the job, but her pride needed this.

There was only so much of her own apartment a woman could take though and her stomach was rumbling. Which meant only one thing: it was time to go bother her mother. Walking into Vespucci's carried the risk of being put to work, but it was a risk Carla was willing to take.

Carla pulled her jacket tighter across her chest and crossed the street. She could see Vespucci's just ahead and unless she was hallucinating, she could already smell it. As she turned onto the sidewalk, she was walking in time with someone else. Carla turned to give them a smile. "Headed to Vespucci's too? I hear they have the best Italian food in London."

[carlavespucci]

Sample para

Each minute dragged by slower than the last, an impressive feat for 10:38 in the morning. The apartment was dead still and would have been silent if not for the click of Netflix scrolling vibrating through the air. A young woman slumped back against the couch with her feet resting up on the coffee table next to a half-eaten box of takeout.

“Watch that. And that. And that. Hmm, haven’t watched that yet….No, no, no.”

Carla sighed and clicked the TV off. How was it even possible to exhaust all of the good options on Netflix? There was always Hulu and Paramount Plus and Amazon Prime, but frankly she was exhausted of tv. Back in Launceston she didn’thave the time for it anyways. As soon as she closed one case there were two more piledup on her desk waiting. Why did she decide to move across the ocean without a job?

A business card sat half buried under her laptop. Carla reached for it and frowned to herself as she looked over it. Patrizia Pecatti. Two exams and one phone call. That’s all it would take to alleviate her current boredom. Grabbing the card had disturbed her mouse and awoke her computer to the check out screen she’d abandoned in favor of scrolling Netflix. The Massachusetts bar exam still traumatized her just enough that she’d hesitated before final confirmation. Was she really going to stick around London long enough to make it worth it.

What was the harm in taking it? If she didn’t need it, she didn’t need it. But, it would keep options open for her. And, more importantly, it would give her something to do. Carla sat up, grabbed a half warm fry from the open container, and hit the button before she could stop herself. An icon on the screen spun for a second before a receipt popped up onto the screen. She breathed a sigh of relief before glancing down at her phone.

After the nightmare in March, disturbing Patrizia felt wrong. Like walking into Mass in anything less than her Sunday best. Or wearing white after Labor Day. She didn’t need to work. Her family was more than willing to support her while she supported them. But, she’d been in London for months with nothing but time and half of her things were still in boxes. And she couldn’t even tell you when the last time she cooked for herself was. Carla Beneventi-Vespucci was not meant to sit around idle all day.

She glanced down at the card in her hand once again before standing up off of the couch. Before she could chicken out (again), she died the number and pressed her phone up to her ear. As the phone rang, she paced through the small sliver of open space in her living room and breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, just as her dad taught her when she was a little girl. Just as she was about to give up and hang up the phone, there was a click followed by a curt “Hello?”

“Patrizia? Hi, it’s Carla. I’ve decided to take you up on your offer. I’ve scheduled my SQE for a couple months from now, but after that, I’ll need a job. Think you can help me with that?”