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All Eyes On Me	By : ibgarry Category: +G through L > Ib Views: 1242 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Previously uploaded on AO3 and FFN. I do not own Ib or its characters, nor do I make money from this story.

Chapter List
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The following night, the first to arrive out of the female trio was Carrie, who arrived with a boxed gift in her arms. When Garry gave her a quizzical look at the gift she had received, she pulled him into the dressing room.
She handled the box very carefully as she lifted its lid, but showed no mercy as she turned it upside down. Ten cigarette cartons tumbled out onto the carpet, thumping against the ground. When she had emptied the box, she dropped the box and its lid on the floor next to the mound.

"One of my fans works down the street at that little convenience store on Tryst," she said. "I dressed up really well just to go down there. Thank God. He called it a one-time discount." Garry was sure it would become a two-time discount next time she visited.
"You're a god, Carrie," He praised her, bringing her into a hug. Carrie squeezed him back.
"You can have three cartons only because I adore you."
"Please marry me."
"Gross. Grab yourself some cartons."

He dropped the cartons in his dressing room, where his co-announcer was lounging in the corner in a beanbag, idling happily on his phone. Garry didn't say a word to him as he dropped them on the counter. Garry knew he didn't smoke, so he knew it was likely nothing would happen to them; his coworker wasn't a smoker, either.
He returned to find Ib had shown up to work. Perplexed by the mound of cigarette cartons on the floor, she gave the situation some thought before stepping around them. She gave him a small "hello" when she noticed Garry and popped open the black makeup kit on the vanity counter.
"Enjoying your smokes?" Carrie joked, turning to Garry in her stool. She had been admiring herself in her mirror. The cabinet below her feet had been propped open. In it, Garry could see four wigs atop her identical mannequin heads. She had a wig on her counter, half-styled.
"I have yet to break them in. Was I gone for that long?"
"No, I was just teasing you." She put her comb down and pulled her t-shirt off over her head. Garry sensed Ib's astonishment from across the room as they both watched. With her shirt around her head, she continued, "Don't you have a schedule to check?"
"Right, might as well get that over with." Garry stepped to the side, but stopped before he could begin his trek to the stage. Carrie stood and made her way to her wardrobe; her arms were outstretched, and in her hand was her shirt, all balled up. "Getting changed so soon?"
"Seems like it," she nodded, shuffling through her clothes rack in her bra. "The boss is on his way to talk to us about it, surely."
Garry stepped out. "I'll be back in a minute."
He shut the door behind him. In the hall, a girl was walking away from him into a dressing room. From behind, he couldn't quite see who she was. In the background, he could hear muffled laughter and the air vents humming overhead.
On his way to the stage, he ran into the manager, who seemed exhausted but thankful to see Garry. He dabbed his forehead with a stained kerchief. "There's been a slight change in schedule." He was heaving. "Have you seen the papers?"
"I was just on my way," he assured him.
"Alright, get on that for me, Garry." He coughed, already out of breath from running around. He wasn't nearly fit enough to be running around managing a cabaret, yet he seemed just the kind to own one.
He watched his boss's face light up as a group of loud chatting girls knocked on the back door, requesting entry. He shouted, "Ladies!" at the door, and there was a loud cheer from beyond the entrance. Garry left him to his work.
He stepped onto the stage and found two papers stapled together-luckily very few, which surprised him, so the night wouldn't be too long.
Ib had taken over someone else's time slot on stage, a girl named Rose, as fate would have it, and he wasn't surprised. It wasn't that Rose just wasn't good, but Ib was probably in the boss's favor. She was on with Garry when he would be announcing, as well, and he found himself glad to have her on stage when he was free to watch her up close. She was impossibly light on her feet and very flexible, and he found her performance more poetic than anything. He wasn't "cultured" to it, but to a trained eye, she was extremely skilled. Garry was nothing short of thrilled.
This schedule was meant for a short night, and even though work was long, it was, after all, a Monday. The schedule, although only lasting a span of three hours, was all over the place. As Garry was realizing how confusing the night would be with so many people switching stage times, he heard the whining complaints of the girls in the back hall, crying to the manager about performing at different intervals without clean transitions. He focused on the papers.
Carrie was opening act. Ib was two acts former. Carrie was on again halfway through. Mary closed. If Ib and Mary weren't on stage the rest of the night like the schedule said, they would be on the floor with their own patrons.
Garry would be announcing only for an hour, which he was relieved to find. Monday was always a good day for him, as contrary as the statement was, because he knew he wouldn't be announcing for very long on Monday nights. His co-announcer would take over for the last two-thirds. Only rarely did that change.
It was realizing his short hours and comparing them to the other cabarets and clubs around town that Garry was thankful he worked for Rosie's instead of a cabaret with eight-hour nights. He was also, in a way, embarrassed, knowing he complained about the very occasional six-hour night more often than not. It felt prestigious, in a strange way, to belong to a strip club that was good enough to perform only for a few hours.
When Garry returned, Carrie had her outfit around her waist, pasties on. Garry was used to it, so he passed her by. At the sight of Carrie standing around topless, he wondered if Ib was adjusting.
Mary still hadn't shown, and Garry was anything but surprised. Ib was lounging in a tank top and skirt; she was about to start on her makeup and had her brushes strewn out, but she had become distracted by her phone. He could tell Carrie and Ib weren't in a rush, knowing they didn't have to be on for another hour and a half.
"You're on first tonight," Garry noted, standing behind Carrie. She was inspecting her face in the mirror. Ib flinched before realizing Garry hadn't been speaking to her.
Carrie nodded, applying concealer to her nose. She didn't look at Garry's reflection as she spoke, too focused on her job. "So I heard. Excited to watch Ib perform?" Ib ignored Carrie and finally started getting to work, smoothing concealer over her cheek. Carrie eyed her for a moment. Garry turned to look. "Are you planning on worming your way out of that top after you've put all that makeup on?"
Ib continued her work. "Too late now, I suppose."
"You've hardly started," She retorted with a taunting giggle. Garry kicked her. Carrie yelped and kicked him back. "Don't kick me!"
"Oh, dont bother her!" Ib was scarlet. Pouting, Carrie returned to her work. Garry continued, "Do either of you need a drink before you're both past the point of drinking out of a cup?"
"I'll be fine," Carrie replied. She waved her water bottle. She turned to Ib, makeup and bottle in hand. "You thirsty?"
"Water would be nice," she agreed. Garry nodded and jogged out.
The hall was strangely vacant, he realized, but he wasn't too worried; not many people showed up on Monday in the first place. He poured a cup for himself at the water station.
Garry returned shortly, two paper cups of water in hand. Ib was standing behind the curtain when he returned. With every move she made, it danced back and forth. Garry walked over to Ib's vanity and put the water down beside her brushes.
"She's putting on pasties back there," Carrie informed him. Ib whined at her choice of wording from behind the drapes. Garry laughed and took a drink.
Ib stepped out hesitantly, and she blushed down to her chest so the pasties didn't quite give their full effect over the contrast of her red skin. Garry realized then, now that she was closer than a room away, that she couldn't have been bigger than a B-cup (which was being generous), but it only intensified the fact that she had to be incredible. He was impressed. Ib retreated quickly to her stool.
Carrie noticed and yelped with joy, satisfied in her attempt to get Ib to strip down. "That's the spirit!" Sometimes, Garry couldn't tell if she was sincerely trying to help Ib adjust to the typical atmosphere of the club or if Carrie was just trying to get Ib out of her clothes.
She sat down in her seat, sulking as she realized she had been persuaded into such a situation.
"What a thin little thing." Carrie's fingers flitted, her acrylic nails clicking against each other. "Sometimes I'm afraid your back will snap in half..." She turned to Garry. Carrie didn't break eye contact as she prepared herself to continue, but Garry cut in.
"Don't bring me into this."
Carrie slammed her makeup onto the table, creating a cloud of powder. "I am tired of your attitude, Garry. Tell the girl she's got a great body."
Garry sat down on a stool. "You've got a great body."
"Thanks." Ib wasn't listening.
Carrie looked up mischievously at Garry, but he continued: "She won't like you if you keep teasing her."
Carrie gasped melodramatically and turned to Ib, her hand over her mouth. "You don't hate me, do you, Ib?"
"No." She was still only hardly listening, but she smiled playfully, setting down her powders. She turned to the two of them. "It's hard to agree myself that I have a great body when I'm the size of nine-year-old." Garry laughed and laughed, and Carrie groaned, kicking his legs out from under his stool. He didn't pay her any mind.
"Don't let yourself be defined by how you look," Carrie announced, "or how thin you might be." Garry rolled his eyes, still grinning. Ib flipped her hair out of her face, continuing with her powder. She glanced at Garry and mimicked his smile, and he was only further elated.
Carrie was quick with her makeup and began to style her wigs. She had plenty of time to waste with them, and she loved doing it. Ib and Garry listened as Carrie spoke about the routines she had planned, and Garry helped with Ib's eye makeup in the meantime. As she mentioned how she'd done the choreography over a few weeks all on her own, she brought a thought to Garry's attention, and he kindly interrupted Carrie to request a moment of Ib's time.
He focused on Ib's makeup, asking, "Ib, did you choreograph all your dances yourself?"
She was having trouble keeping still, and speaking only made it harder on him to apply makeup to Ib's face. "Like… did I plan the whole routine?"
"That's what I'm asking."
She fidgeted, and Garry lifted the brush from her eyelid impatiently with a frown. Ib's eyes sunk. "Sorry. No, it was improvised."
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All Eyes On Me