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[solomonvidal]

DANNY.

Danny gave an impressed nod to the car, pretending as if he was from a similar world to wherever the hell this Bronco driver was. Danny was happier with his dumb motorcross bikes that sounded as if the exhaust was gonna explode at any second. “Nice man, you decided to go all out.” he laughed kindly, just making conversation as his tiny brain whirred into thinking about his next move. He wasn’t expecting the seller to literally line up the opportunity for him. He smirked again, hands lazily shoving into his pockets. “Shit yeah, I can’t say no to that. I’d be a dumbass.” Danny then nodded with his head towards his truck. “I got cash, we can load these up and grab it and it’s a done deal.” he said it so casually, as if it was just a normal transaction even though he could feel his heart racing if this was to go wrong. It wouldn’t, though. Facebook marketplace was literally like taking candy from a baby. 

Danny took two of the rims in each hand, making a casual walk to his truck to not raise any suspicion. He checked over his shoulder once, just to ensure the guy was following with the other two because while Danny’s intelligence left a lot to be desired, he wasn’t going to try and steal only two fucking rims. Unless he really had to. He plopped the two in the back of his truck, waving his now free hand to urge the seller to do the same as he rounded to the driver’s side. Now he had to be fast, try and look as if he was grabbing the money when in reality he was timing the perfect moment to start the engine.

There’s no point in denying the simple fact that Solomon is distracted by his car, over-the-fucking-moon about his new purchase, talking as much about the new car as he does about the rims for sale. It’s a sad truth that this dream is made possible only by returning to dealing, the very same crime that had him locked away in the first place — his father’s corrupt involvement aside. For now, he’s just grateful to have what he’s always wanted plus extra rims to spare, sent off with some guy who seems to know a thing or two about a nice Bronco, anyway. “You must be a Ford guy yourself,” Solomon laughs, continuing their small talk as the blonde eyes the details of the rims again. “I’m just happy someone else will end up getting good use out of them.” It takes only a minute longer for the deal to be made; Solomon follows the guy out to his truck, helping him load the rims in the back. 

As they walk out, the beginnings of suspicion form in his stomach, eyeing the guy hard as he looks back over his shoulder a couple of times, as if to make sure Solomon is still following behind him. They each set down a pair of rims in the back, and Solomon even closes the bed of the truck in finality while the buyer hurries to grab the money from the cab. However, it’s not until the other guy lingers inside his truck does Solomon become truly leary of him, squinting hard to see if he’s pulled out any cash yet. “I can get you change if you need it,” he announces dryly, standing at the back of the bed. He’s not sure what’s taking so long, but whatever this fucking guy is doing has Solomon on high alert.

[solomonvidal]

ZIZI.

                          “Fine, I’ll avoid mirrors until my breaks, happy?” It took a lot of willpower on her part not to roll her eyes right then. She was proud of herself for the growth, another step in becoming the perfect person she was always meant to be. The flirting comment made her pout. She still didn’t understand why it was on her if some taken dude flirted back with her. Zizi is just being friendly and occasionally shooting her shot when the signals seem shared. It should be up to them to tell her they’re not available or they’re uncomfortable. Yet they just seem to come back and order more. The likelihood of her stopping any of that was slim to none. She got way more tips and up sales that way. “Yeah, sure I’ll try.” Was all she offered back because if she tried with at least one person then she wasn’t lying.

She scoffed at his blatant misunderstanding of her obvious compliment as if she just gave them out for free. Before she could say anything in response, however, he was already onto the next thing. Most VIP sales of the quarter. That put a smug smile on her face and she did a little shimmy in her seat to accompany it. “Okay we love the raise part, responsibility kind of depends on if it’s in my wheelhouse. Like I can be super responsible with some things but others not so much. But I’m sure I could handle it, especially with a little risk. That sounds ominous and a little sexy.” Zizi hummed and sat back in her chair, tapping an index finger to the corner of her lips while she thought about it. Ultimately she shrugged, because how bad could it be if she was getting more money and Mr. Never Bend the Rules was running it. “Yeah, sure. Tell me more, tell me more.” She sang in reference to Grease though she doubted Solomon would get it.

Letting bygones be bygones, Solomon decides to blow past any ill-intended comments on her inappropriate flirting, slacking off on the job, or any general bouts of bad attitude. “Very happy,” he answers warmly. At the end of the day, she still brings in a shit ton of money to Decades, to his bosses, and to him. Which is why she’ll be perfect for dealing — Solomon can see ZiZi now, slyly suggesting a bit of fun to her customers, slipping them little baggies of pure white, hidden in plain sight amongst all the vices a nightclub has to offer. “You’ll be able to handle it,” he assures her, taking on a sweeter tone than he normally uses with his bartenders. Anyone who can push VIP treatment and bottle service onto the WASP-y Lockwood Springs crowd could definitely sell coke to the average club goer. “It’ll require confidentiality, though. Our clientele prefer it that way.” Even though someone like ZiZi can’t keep from spilling the latest tea at any given opportunity. 

Reaching the point where he’ll have to tell her the dirty details, Solomon knows that once this can of worms is opened ( the truth about the club’s dealing scene revealed ), there’s no going back: she’ll have to sell their product, whether she decides she wants to or not. He sighs, unfazed by her excited dancing, or any Grease-inspired singing. “If you can push bottles like you do, I think you can push the other services we offer. All the off-menu stuff, that maybe you’ve heard our other girls talk about.” Shifting in his chair, Solomon reclines back, resting his feet atop his desk. “Has a customer ever come up to you and tried to ask for coke? Maybe X, or other pills?” Solomon’s sure it’s happened, given the likelihood. “What do you think about selling those for me, too?” He asks, like she’ll really have a choice.

[solomonvidal]

ELISE.

Elise doesn’t go out much, so when she does, friends are usually the ones dragging her along. Back in Nashville she’d been more social but since moving back home, her life has been consumed by her dad’s care, keeping track of his appointments and medications, work and living with Bunny. There isn’t much time left to enjoy or explore Lockwood’s nightlife. Which is the only reason she’d allowed herself to be coerced into coming out to Decades tonight, when she had a night to herself. But it had been soured by a guy who didn’t know the meaning of no or the clear looks of discomfort El and her friends were sending his way until someone intervened. Someone who is now taking down a statement from Elise as she tries to ignore the awkwardness of sitting opposite someone she ghosted a few weeks back.

“It’s okay,” she starts before pausing, “I mean…it’s not but, you know, I guess it’s not surprising?” Elise tucks a long strand of inky black hair behind her ear and shrugs. “But uh…thank you. Really.” She means it, offering the smallest smile, sheepish at the fact she’d even needed someone to step in. “So I guess operator means you play bouncer too?” It’s a haphazard attempt to lighten the mood that’s decidedly uncomfortable. He’d mentioned he helped run a club, she just hadn’t realized which until he intervened. “But uh, it’s alright, no need for special treatment or anything.” She waves away the offer, “thank you, though,” Eise adds quickly as she stands, “and sorry for the trouble…do you have enough information from me?”

In all the discomfort of the situation at hand, Solomon resigns to sticking to the business matters at hand. He’ll maintain an air of professionalism, leaving any one-off comments about their apparently ill-fortuned date to be said only wryly to himself later. So, he’s admittedly surprised when she decides to take the leap instead, making a friendly jab at him. “Well, no, throwing out handsy assholes isn’t exactly in my job description,” he says, stifling a bout of uncharacteristic, nervous laughter. “But my bouncer wasn’t there to take care of it, so. You get me instead.” Solomon doesn’t meet her eyes to see her reaction to that, instead busying himself with the report again, adding a final sentence or two to his statement. 

“No, no. I think I’ve got everything they’ll need,” he adds politely, signing the very bottom of the page. Even as she waves away his most hospitable offers, Solomon doesn’t feel right leaving things the way they are now, uncomfortable and silent. “Well, the least I can do is walk you outside and wait for your ride to show up,” Solomon offers as he stands from behind his desk. He insists, one, for her safety, and for liability reasons — that creep might be waiting outside, looking for an excuse to try his luck again. And, two, this gives him an excuse to talk to her for a little longer, and perhaps figure out why she stopped messaging him back after what he thought was a slam-dunk date. The last thing he wants is to look desperate, though. “Since I’m playing bouncer tonight, anyway,” he says with a smile.

[solomonvidal]

+ elise.

BACK OFFICE, DECADES NIGHTCLUB | @elisexrueng​​

Unfortunately, it’s not the first time Solomon has had to get aggressive with some drunk asshole at Decades. He has zero tolerance for entitled people who cross personal boundaries with others — and anyone who steps over that line gets banned from the club. There’s someone here tonight who’s already testing the limits, getting far too comfortable with himself as he looks for someone to pity fuck him later tonight. One of the bartenders cut the guy off over an hour ago, but that doesn’t stop him from harassing other patrons, bothering groups of young women who are far too nice to tell him to fuck off like he deserves. When the creep tries to do anything more than make his impolite conversation, Solomon wastes no time, grabbing him up by the collar and throwing him out the door. 

Back in the quiet of his office, he takes down as much information as possible for the police report, concentrating on the task as to not get distracted by the woman sitting across from him. Complicating this whole ordeal further is the fact that he and Elise Rueng have met once before, on what Solomon thought was a pretty good first date — until she curtly said goodnight, never to respond to his messages again. “I am so sorry this happened to you. He’s a fucking dick, and my security team will make sure he never sets foot in Decades again,” Solomon assures her.  He’s checked in with every other person the loser was harassing, making sure they’re okay and ensuring that they get a chance to add to the report. Now, it’s just him and Elise alone in his office, and Solomon feels every obligation to make up for this ( and maybe for their date, too ). “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Putting his pen down, he finally meets her eyes to insist, “a drink on the house, at least? I can order delivery for you, or get an Uber if you’d rather just call it a night.”

[solomonvidal]

FINN.

who: @solomonvidal​ where: decades night club

Night clubs weren’t Finn’s go to spot. However he was a hustler in all sense of the word and when he heard some dealings were going on there through the grapevine, he decided to check out his competition. There was also an ex-husband to one of his dancers  that liked to hang around the night club. He’d been coming around a lot harassing her and the other dancers, which was bad for business. His operator asked him if they should call the cops to which Finn said of course not and that he would deal with it. So he may be able to kill two birds with one stone. What he hadn’t expected was to standing within spitting distance of his old cell mate and arguably much more, Solomon.

Fuck feelings. He frowned at the other man trying to figure out if he was seeing things or not. So that was the competition. Go figure. Finn crossed over the path to get behind him. He cleared his throat and worked his jaw for a moment trying to figure out the best way to greet the man he spent a little over half a decade living in a room with. “The feck you doin’ in Colorado?” Solid start. But no one who knew him should expect better from him. “Get tired of the windy city or what?”

Promotion and marketing have truly outdone themselves for tonight’s event at Decades; they’ve been pushing all the juicy details hard across all their social media platforms, and now the people pour in, bringing plenty of money to blow. The crowd keeps Solomon on his toes as he moves from the back office out to the bar and then to the back rooms, helping to sort, solve, or sell whatever is needed. He may not own the club, but anyone watching him control the ebb and flow of the party would know that this place is his in all but paperwork. In the chaos, Solomon is stopped by one of the bottle girls, one of the few that helps to sling the drugs they sell off-menu. He helps her re-up, divvying up dosages and sending her back out with a fresh supply. 

Re-emerging from the shadowy half of the club, Solomon only has a few moments to breathe before a familiar, gruff voice pulls him from his haze of business and bodies. He turns to see Finn, his old cellmate of many years, a man who was once a brother ( among everything else ), a man who he once knew as well as himself. In truth, it’s so unexpected that Solomon hardly even registers what Finn’s said before calling out to him. “Is that really you, Ireland? Who the hell let you in here?” he laughs, and instinctively reaches out to embrace the other. Some self-doubt settles in as soon as he does — it’s been so long since they’d even written to each other, let alone touched, as Finn’s side of communication went cold years ago. “Um, yeah, something like that,” Solomon says, pulling away again, not wanting to hash out all the details of being ‘released for good behavior’ in the middle of the club. “Family house fell to me, so. Did what anyone else would do, I guess.” It’s strange, how he doesn’t really want to meet Finn’s eyes now that they’re talking, despite how close they’d once been while they were locked up inside the same four walls. 

He gives in to the impulse to say the obvious: “Been awhile since I’ve heard from you.”

[solomonvidal]

DANNY.

@solomonvidal​ at: sol’s home​

-

Ah, facebook marketplace. It was perfect, if you scrolled through the endless coffee tables or weird shit people just wanted to throw away. Danny sometimes stumbled upon gold dust, a few things that could be sold for a good price and it was even better since he didn’t pay for them. He’d take one look at the price it was listed as, laugh a little to himself and know he’d be running away with it under his arm for free. It was the perfect hustle, with minimum effort. That’s how he wound up getting a guy’s address for some car rims. He’d be able to throw them into his own truck, say he had the cash in his dashboard and then simply drive away. Genius. “They look pretty good.” Danny said, eyeing over one of the rims and moving it towards him so he looked like a serious buyer. Serious buyers always made small talk too, so he glanced back to Solomon with a casual shrug. “You not like ‘em or just upgraded?” he wore a soft grin, partially out of cockiness because he had done this too many times for it to go wrong. “I think I’ll take ‘em, how much did you want?”

It’s rare that he even posts on Facebook, let alone try and sell something through that god-forsaken marketplace. It’s a cesspool of false advertising, deceptive photos, and straight up scammery, but Craigslist pretty much died while Solomon was behind bars, so he has few other options to get used stuff off his hands. His new Bronco gets fresh rims, and so pictures of the old ones are advertised at a fair rate online — and it doesn’t take long for some seemingly eager buyer to begin messaging him. It’s a bit of a drive from Lockwood Springs proper out to the Vidal family ranch, so Solomon even cleans the rims while he waits.

When the buyer arrives, they spend some time poking around the rims and making polite conversation. “Just upgraded. I’ve got a 2023 Bronco that needs something special,” he says wryly, throwing his head in the direction of the car parked in the garage. For all the time he spent in a cell with nothing to his name, having something as nice as a brand new luxury car still feels unreal. He hands one of the rims over to the man as he speaks, letting him look a little bit closer to make sure he’s getting his money’s worth. “But these are the rims from the luxury factory package, barely even used. Still plenty shiny and retails for more than I’m asking — I’d say $80 a pop is fair.” He pauses a moment before adding, “if you have cash, I’ll take $75 each. Just let me know if you’ll need change.”

[solomonvidal]

ZIZI.

There was a sigh and a pout when her boss asked her back to his office. It’s not that she meant to keep making the same mistakes. She got bored and there were way too many restrictions to keep track of. Who knew modeling was easier than bartending? Before it was, stand there, wear this, pose, sit for make-up, hold still while they fix this or that. All of it came down to posing and being beautiful, both of which she was great at. Paying attention enough to be quick with customers and servers during slow periods, not her strong suit. Especially if there was someone cute or interesting to talk to. She whined and stomped her feet a couple times when Solomon walked away. Reluctantly, she followed after a few moments later. Hoping this wasn’t the day he finally fired her.

“Okay but in my defense, if I don’t look good? Decades doesn’t look good so me touching up my lipstick and adding more highlighter is kind of an emergency.” Zizi adjusted in her seat and curled a strand of her pony tail around one of her fingers. “Also I already told you I can’t be be realistically expected to know if someone is married or not, that’s on them.” She pointed out, her hand moving with the words and she noticed how cute her nails looked in the light of his office. Her hand extended so she could fully admire them. “Look at them, they’re so pretty.” It came out as a quiet squeal as she turned to reveal them to him. “What is the lighting in here? I love it. It makes you look cuter, too.” Another quick pout appeared when she realized he probably didn’t care and blah, blah, blah she needed to take this seriously or something. “Okay, so yes I took one selfie and I apologized by flirting a little. He got bottle service though? I’m sorry his wife was mad but maybe she shouldn’t leave him alone with cute bartenders if she’s so worried about his impulse control, I don’t know.” Zizi was absolutely not sorry in the least, but she did her best attempt at looking apologetic for Solomon’s sake and the sake of her job.

These conversations always seem to evoke the same circular logic from Zizi. In her mind, she represents the club, and therefore must look the part — but Solomon is silently horrified if poor service and inappropriate interactions with bar patrons have become the representation of the club he’s tasked with running. He rubs his face, deeply annoyed, trying to ignore the beginnings of a throbbing headache that stems from this conversation. “But not at the expense of ignoring paying customers.” How many times had she been caught with a makeup bag on the bar top, making that dumb face all people make when applying mascara, while some John at the other end of the bar goes beerless and ballistic? “Then you need to cool it with the blatant flirting, yeah?” She could be impossible to talk to, and even worse to argue with. “I’m sick of dealing with angry women bitching at me about whatever you’ve said to their husbands. I know you’re just trying to push sales, but you can’t let that backfire on the business.” 

A detour in the conversation to admire her nails — and Solomon, apparently, though he knows she’s just trying to clean up her own messes — has him rolling his eyes. “That’s sort of an insult to me, if you think about it.” The lighting, after all, is just a couple of dim floor lamps and the glow of his desktop computer. “Look, this is all besides the point,” Solomon huffs, waving his hands as if to dismiss the argument away. “I actually called you in to talk to you about your sales this month. Because, despite how much time you spend doing everything besides bartending, you’ve somehow managed to push more VIP services than any other employee for the quarter.” A fact which Solomon checked three or four times before accepting that perhaps Zizi is better at her job than he wants to believe. “So, you’re on my shortlist for a promotion of sorts. It would mean a substantial raise, but it would also require taking on some...additional responsibility.” Which is a severe understatement. “And risk.” Solomon adds, crossing his arms and leaning back in the desk chair. “You want more info?”

[solomonvidal]

+ zizi

BACK OFFICE, DECADES NIGHTCLUB | @ziziromero

Time spent serving the Mendez family well means earning sizable promotions, which means jumping from nightclub security to operator almost overnight, which means a whole slew of new responsibilities are thrown in Solomon's lap. When he accepted the job, he never expected to have to handle so many personnel issues — dealing in prison or under his dad's corrupt department was somehow less complicated than managing the staff at the club. He asks his bartender Zizi to meet him in the back before she takes her break for the night, and it should be no surprise to her what this conversation is about. After all, this is at least the third time this quarter that she's landed in the chair across from his desk, sat like she's been sent to the principal's office.

"You already know what I'm going to say," Solomon says, voice quiet but stern. "Something like... the customers are complaining about certain bartenders ignoring them to take selfies. Or maybe that they're applying their makeup at the bar top." A sigh escapes him, more exhausted than angry. "Or that they're flirting with someone's spouse again." She's shameless about it all, he knows it, but has to press the issue anyway. It's his job to maintain the prestige of the club, so Solomon tries again. "You wanna guess which one it is today?"

[solomonvidal]

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 | 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: Solomon Vidal 𝐀𝐆𝐄: 35 years old 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄: March 29th, 1987 ( Aries, Capricorn, Scorpio ) 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍: In the rural outskirts of Bradford Springs 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : Security at Decades Night Club ( where he also sells narcotics for the Mendez family ) 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒: Cut-off t-shirts and muscle tanks. Hoodies and sweatpants. A near permanent scowl. All black clothing or otherwise wearing neutrals. Questionable tattoos on neck, hands, and body. The scent of Burberry Hero. 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒: Early mornings, weight lifting, watching sports, alone time, writing letters, taking cold showers, being outdoors 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒: Nosy people, liars, slow drivers, tourists, people who can’t handle their liquor, the police 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒: strong willed, disciplined, resourceful, adaptive, independent 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒: stoic, unforgiving, serious, evasive, private 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Bisexual

𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐎

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐖

- Grew up just outside of Bradford Springs in the neighboring county. His father was elected to county sheriff and grew hungry for power, raising his son with an iron first. Solomon and his father rarely saw eye-to-eye, but as his only son, he still felt the pressure to please him.

- Though school wasn’t really his strong suit, in high school, Solomon’s team takes state championship titles and is celebrated by the town. It’s the first time he really feels proud of himself, and feels the pride of his family, too. However, he’s just not good enough to earn a scholarship, and he didn’t have the grades or the interest to pursue college in the first place. He feels his only option is to follow his father’s path, joining the police force right out of high school.

- In the few short years he serves as an officer, he discovers just how corrupt the police department is. Solomon’s father ran a drug trafficking operation out of the sheriff’s office, and the state government chose to turn a blind eye, as long as they got a share of the profit. He’s complacent in it, and eventually, his father teaches him all the ropes. It’s not long before he’s as guilty as the rest. 

- Overdoses are on the rise in town, and concerned citizens work to expose his father’s operation. An informant names him and other officers in the sweep, but the son of the sheriff makes for the perfect scapegoat. He narrowly avoids the fifty years to life sentence for drug trafficking when his lawyers enter a plea deal. If he chooses to give up information on their suppliers and the distribution as a whole, his sentence would be reduced to thirty years for possession with intent to sell.

- Solomon ends up serving thirteen of the thirty years of his sentence, from 2007-2020, mostly in a federal prison in Chicago. He’s released early as a nonviolent offender, in what he assumes is mostly a move to free up important bed space.

- When he’s released, he feels he has no other choice than to return to his family home in Bradford springs. His father now rots in federal prison for his own crimes, and his mother has built a new life out West. For awhile, he worked dead end jobs in Bradford Springs, taking whatever part-time position would actually hire felons. 

- Recently, he began working as security for Decades nightclub and the Mendez family at large. He acts as the bouncer, but more importantly, he sells drugs to party goers and turns the profits over to his employers. In return, they pay him handsomely, and make sure to keep his record clean.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

There are tattoos covering Solomon’s arms, hands, and body, most of which were poked on to him in prison. Some have come out much better than others, and some he’s covered up since he got out. Admittedly, he get some strange looks on occasion by the older, more conservative residents of Bradford Springs.

Though he wasn’t a police officer for very long before getting locked up, the training has stuck with him throughout the years. He’s a pretty good shot, trained and proficient with standard issue police pistols and semi-automatics. It’s one of the reasons the Mendez family hires him as security.

Behind bars, there was plenty of time for him to bulk up and develop a serious fitness routine. It’s something he maintains now that he’s out, too, becoming something of a gymrat during the day. 

The new salary he’s become accustomed to brings Solomon more material comforts than he’s ever known. He’s been enjoying buying designer sneakers, top-shelf liquors, and a brand new Ford Bronco to drive around town. 

So much about the world changed while he was locked up, and sometimes he still feels like he’s playing catchup. Though he’s been out for a few years now, there are often pop culture references or current events that he just doesn’t understand. A quick google search on his phone ( which, don’t even get him started on how much those things have changed ) often solves the problem, though his list of movies, music, and news to catch up seems forever long.

[solomonvidal]

first off everything is possible through spite and pettiness so jot that down

[solomonvidal]

inflammatory essay no. 10, jenny holzer

[solomonvidal]

“I want to know what it means to survive something. does it just mean I get to keep my body?”

— Olivia Gatwood, “We All Got Burnt That Summer”, in Life of the Party (via deformititties)

[solomonvidal]

MANNY JACINTO as Logan Santos in I Want You Back (2022)

[solomonvidal]

THE BUBBLE (2022) dir. Judd Apatow

[solomonvidal]

sorry i’m late. just ran over someone’s golden retriever boyfriend.

[solomonvidal]

MANNY JACINTO Nine Perfect Strangers 1.03 “Earth Day”