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<center>http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y21...de/arianna.jpg
Arianna deBurgh
<font size=1>She's not your normal kind of dame.</font></center>
Those fingers in my hair.
That sly come hither stare,
that strips my conscience bare
It's witchcraft.
And I've got no defense for it.
The heat is too intense for it.
What good would common sense for it do?
'Cause its witchcraft, wicked witchcraft.
And although, I know, its strictly taboo.
When you arouse the need in me,
my heart says yes indeed in me,
proceed with what your leading me to.
Its such an ancient pitch,
but one I wouldn't switch,
'cause there's no nicer witch than you.
( witchcraft, sinatra )
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[ Writer's note: This was typed about four years ago, so it hops around a little. Also, some of the paragraphs were written by Giovanni's mun, which is why it skips to his point of view randomly. Just .. try to make sense of it. [img]smile.gif[/img] I'm too lazy to rewrite it. ]
<center>"Laissez les bon temps roule."</center>
Born in the bayou bordering the bustling city of New Orleans, young Arianna was raised to appreciate whatever was handed to her. Things weren't so easily come by when you had to scrimp and save for anything you needed... or wanted. It was her habit to steal her Pere's pirouge and pole her way down the small streams bordering her family's land, simply basking in the tranquility of the swamp lands. Evenings were spent on the porch, listening to whatever words of wisdom her Maman would bestow, as the elder woman arranged Ari's hair with les papillotes.
"Now, cher. If there's a lesson your Mere can teach you, it's always smart to be nice to the gentlemen. They be the ones savin' you from havin' to marry one of the locals and havin' his babies."
While the women were having their talk, Pere would be down at the zydeco, losing all of his money in the bourres. The fights between her parents were always loud, and usually ended the same way. The front door could be heard crashing open with the shouts of .. "If you keep on treatin' a man this way, Gisselle, I won't be comin' back. You hear? I won't. A man has to have some dignity." drifting upwards to Arianna's small room. And the answer from her mother was always the same. "Yeah, and if you keep on losing all of your money at the bourre tables, Timothy Paul, all you're goin' to have to sleep with is your dignity."
The front door slamming shut behind Timothy as he stormed out was always the end of the fight. Muttered Cajun curses filtered throughout the small shack, the old wooden rocker protesting loudly as Gisselle settled herself into it. Stealthily, Ari made her way down the rickety steps, bottom lip held captive by her teeth as she looked around for her Mere. The woman took too much onto her shoulders. If only there was a way for Arianna to help. If only...
* * * * * *
<center>"A broken heart, a shattered spirit.
A cry for help, does anyone hear it?
Promises and lies, love and loss.
All taxing the soul, paying the cost.
I call to you, ghosts long gone,
Hear me why I lament my song."</center>
By the light of the full moon, the young woman stood outside in a clearing, nature's serenade growing to a crescendo around her. The small fire before her flickered and danced as a small gust of wind hit it, casting shadows around her slender frame as she chanted. Dominga Boudreaux, the local voodoo priestess had given her the incantation to say, as well as a gris gris bag, that she was to keep in her pocket at all times. A silver dime strung on a length of twine was fastened around her right ankle, the charm said to have been blessed Marie Laveau herself. "You be keepin' t'e gris gris wit' you. All t'ings that you be wishin' come true, girl. You listen to ol' Dominga. She be doin' t'is for long time now."
If Mere knew that Arianna had visited the priestess, the woman would've had a fair heart attack. She might've been bred in the city of New Orleans, but she clung to her Christian faith with a ferocity usually reserved for family. A rare occurance indeed, since vaudan was usually intwined with whatever beliefs one held , in this city. But Ari had other plans. This was going to help her get out of the bayou, out of that shack, and into "society" where she knew she belonged.
<center>"Outside of thought, beyond sight.
I don the cloak of shadow's light
And begin a night of silenced wandering.
Mysteries learned and secrets pondering.
None other knows where I am,
As I begin my vigil upon darkened land.
Into the dark souls I peer, and destroy from within,
While those of good are left to heal and mend. "</center>
* * * * * *
The streets of New Orleans were always busy. People rushing to and fro, the mindset being that if they didn't get to where they were going in five seconds, all hope was lost. Leaning over the railing that enclosed the balcony she was on, Ari watched everyone bustling about with a sense of amusement. Lemmings. The whole lot of them. Lazily, arms stretched over her head, the filmy material of the pegnoir she wore sliding to her elbows. A few whistles and catcalls drifted up to her ears, but all she did was smile brightly and lean over the railing again, a flash of bare skin peeping through the top of her gown. "Bon jour, mon couers!" was called out as she waggled her fingers at them. Blowing a kiss, she straightened back up and sauntered into her room. The previous night had been busy, and not much sleep had been had.
It had taken her a few years to figure out what her Mere had been talking about. "Be nice t' the gentleman, Arianna Lissette. They'll be yo' ticket out of this place." If only Mama could see her now.. One of the top attractions at the Golden Slipper, situated right in the midst of the Quarter. It didn't matter what time of day you came in, there was always bluesy music spilling out through the open doorway, and women hawking their wares, dangling from the balconies, just like the one Ari had just stepped off of.
Miss Liza saved her "Classic Beauty" for the nights; when the most wealthy and influential customers decided they wanted a taste of the forbidden. By day, they were straight laced, conservative business men, but by night.. oh, they were hers then. Her success had been fast, almost dizzingly so. One day, she was some unknown backwater Creole out looking for a way to support her self, and the next.. she was .. well, she was whatever they wanted her to be. Their naughty secretary. Their eager to please maid. Their doting wife. Fantasies were taken and woven into mystic realities, and by the time the night was over, they knew neither up nor down.
"By the life of me, doll, I can't figure out how you keep 'em coming back they way you do. I ain't arguin'. No, no. Profits are good, very good. You just keep doin' what it is you do, and Miss Liza gonna take care of you."
Forcing a smile to painted lips, all Ari could do was shrug and wander off to prepare herself for another long night of ..mindless pleasing. Unconsciously, she slipped her hand into the pocket of her robe and curled her fingers around the gris gris bag. Ever since that night, five years ago, she'd kept it on her at all times, even when she didn't have any clothes on to hide it in. Usually it was laced on a thin silver chain and wore around her neck as decoration. It only enhanced the Cajun appearance, and Miss Liza allowed it only after weeks of arguing and defending. Ari had to hide it from her Mere for a long time, but when the day came that she had to bury the old woman.. her beliefs were free to openly flaunt to anyone. It was her time, now...
* * * * * *
"Amoureux fonc?, you're back so soon? You must've missed me." With a smile as old as Eve, she reached out to grasp the front of Giovanni's shirt, tugging him closer to her as she went up on her toes. Even with the extra four inches added to her height with the heels, she still was shorter than him by a foot; give or take an inch. As his arms went around her waist, that smile deepened, and Ari turned to lead him down the darkened corridor towards her room. The routine was a familiar one, one that she had grown comfortable with. Most of the other girls were afraid to even look his way, scampering in the opposite direction as he approached. "I heard he works for the Devil himself." Another one had voiced, "Well I heard that if he looks directly into yer eyes, you'll turn to stone."
She heard all of the whispers, and a few of the other girls even mustered up enough courage to confront her openly about sleeping with a 'demon'. "You gonna wake up one mornin', missin' some body parts, ya know. I don't see how you can stand for him to touch ya. He's got the looks for sure, but still. It ain't right." Slinking back from the look Ari leveled on her, the woman backed away slowly, crossing herself. "It ain't right." she repeated before disappearing into her room.
Whether it was right or wrong, Giovanni was her amoureux fonc?, her dark lover, and that was just the way it was to be. Miss Liza didn't like the fact that he came around so much, but he always paid well, more than what she usually charged for Arianna. Any suspicions or doubts vanished once the green was flashed. "Go right on up, Mr. Diavolo. Ari be in her room as usual. Jus' go on in." Smiling his way broadly, the money was folded and shoved into her desk until later, when she could hoarde it away with the rest of her girl's earnings.
* * * * * *
"I got dreams, Vannie. Big ones. Ain't no way that I'm gonna be doin' this for the rest of my life. You ever see a butterfly? The way they just go flittin' about, doin' what they want? Tout que j'ai jamais voulu devait ?tre juste libre. All I ever wanted was to just be free, to do what I want. Go where I want."
Curled up at his side, one arm stretching across his stomach, she let her head fall back enough to look up in the direction of his eyes. He always let her talk; no matter how silly or trivial it might've sounded. He listened. As he pulled her closer to him, she sighed and let her head drop back down onto his shoulder. "All it takes, mio amore, is a little nudge in the right direction. Towards this freedom you seek."
"As long as Liza has anything to do with it, I'm always gonna be here. Nothin' but a puppet that she holds the strings to."
"Ah, but even the strongest strings can be cut, principessa. All you need is a strong enough pair of scissors, or even a knife."
"Yeah, but if the police find her with a pair of scissors in her chest, all sorts of questions are gonna be asked." Grinning slightly, she lifted up so that her elbow was pressing into the bedding beneath them, fingers splaying out against her cheek as she supported her head. "That's not exactly what I meant, but all things are possible." Mirroring her smile, his hand came up to press gently against the opposite side of her face, fingers delving lightly into her hair. "Anything you need, or want, just say the word. It's yours."
Amethyst hues lingered on his for a brief moment, before shifting over towards one of the windows lining the far wall. Thoughts tumbled about in her head, so many things that she had always yearned for .. and suddenly she knew what she wanted .. no, needed.
"I want out, amoureux fonc?. Like les papillons, the butterflies, I want to be able to fly away.." Sitting up suddenly, Ari made a frantic grab for the sheet before it slipped down, a rather determined look in her eyes as she spoke. Smiling lazily, he fell back down onto the bed and simply nodded. It's funny how things turn out ...
* * * * * *
It had been easy to buy out Miss Liza. With Giovanni's influence, the old woman had been more than willing to sell out. The meeting had been a tense one, Ari opting to sit off to the side and watch the negotiations. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep the smug smile from creeping across her lips. The looks Liza shot Ari were positively murderous, but when confronted by the years of illegal books .. there hadn't been much she could do. Apparently, the information that those files contained were enough to put the woman under the jail, if the police ever found out. And could you believe that Giovanni actually had a cop or.. ten .. in his pocket?
"As you can see, what I'm willing to give you for this place is more than enough to compensate you. Or rather, I can just give these.." Holding up the papers in his hand, Gio's head tilted just a slight to the side as he watched the middle - aged woman squirm as she realized what he had in his possession. ".. to my friends downtown, and you can see what kind of deal they'll give you." Shrugging, he tossed everything onto the desk in front of her, and walked over to stand beside Ari's chair.
"How could you do this to me? After all I've done for you? You weren't nothin' but some backwoods nobody when I found you. I made you, girl. Me. Miss Liza. And this is how you repay me..."
Desolation overcame her wrinkled features and she slumped forward to rest her elbows on the polished surface of her desk. During the tirade, all Ari did was push up to her feet and saunter over towards the structure. Giving her skirt an absent tug, a glance was tossed over her shoulder to make sure the seams in her stockings were straight. As Liza finished speaking, Ari turned her fiery gaze her way. "You made me a prostitute." Inviting herself to sit on the edge of the desk, slender shoulders lifted into a shrug. "You're gettin' just what you had comin' to you. Don't blame me for your shoddy book keeping and careless runnin' of this place."
Smiling vaguely, Ari inclined her head over to the side, her gaze sliding over Giovanni's way. "Cher, give her the paperwork to sign. I'm sure Miss Liza knows what's best for her, and for her well being." Sliding down to her feet, she began walking out of the room, a slow saunter that only paused when she reached the door. A look was thrown over towards the other woman as a genuine grin fell into place. "And I'm much obliged for all your help. If you ever need any help findin' employment, be sure to not give me a ring." With that, she walked out the door, leaving behind the faint scent of her jasmine perfume in her wake.
* * * * * *
"The day is my enemy, the night my friend,
for I'm always so alone 'til the day draws to an end.
But when the sun goes down
and the moon comes through,
to the monotone of the evening's drone
I'm all alone with you.
All through the night, I delight in your love.
All through the night, you're so close to me.
All through the night, from a height far above,
you and your love brings me ecstasy.
When dawn comes to waken me, you're never there at all.
I know you've forsaken me, 'til the shadows fall.
But then once again I can dream, I've the right,
to be close to you all through the night "
The silky tones of her voice filled the interior of the club, one hand sliding languidly up the microphone stand as the other came up to point over the empty room. Smiling gently as the last strains of music filted out, Ari half turned to gesture towards the band, her head tipping back as she laughed. "You guys are great, mon amis." was called out to all of them, before she was hiking up the skirt of her form fitting dress to move off of the dias. Rehearsals were going well enough, and they were almost ready to open the doors for the first time. Broken Glass Incorporated. Her dreams were finally starting to become realities, and the fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn't dissapate.
One of the guys Gio had hired hurried up to her with a glass of water, a sheepish smile shot her way before he was scuttling off. Not much was known about his employer, or her "friend", but the pay was good enough for him to keep his mouth shut, and his mind blank. Reaching up to push her hair back from her face, Ari slid onto the first stool she came to, legs crossing primly over one another. One foot began tapping along with the sudden burst of music the band came up with, and she was soon smiling and cheering them on. The swing era was one that she was enjoying, even though the dancing took a lot of physical exhertion. Then again, didn't everything in her life?
"Come on, Miss Ari! You take ol' Clyde there and show us what ya got."
Glancing up quickly at the mention of her name, all she could do was shoot a wide grin to the band leader, and hop down from her seat. Setting the glass to the side, she made her way over and grabbed Clyde's hand, tugging him towards the dance floor. Regardless of being called "old", the thirty-something man immediately joined in with the dance enthusiastically, hands going to her hips as he lifted her into the air, then set her back to her feet. Grabbing a hand, he was soon spinning and twirling her about, the tinkling sound of her delighted laughter encouraging him further.
The song seemed to go on and on, but with the fun she was having, Ari didn't care. When the music finally faded off, one hand was lifted to wipe at her face, clearing the thin trickle of sweat away from her eyes. With a wide grin, she dropped down into a curtsey before Clyde, before pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Merci beaucoup." was called out over her shoulder as she once again headed for the bar. Yes... this was going to go well. And she was going to enjoy every single minute.
* * * * * *
Giovanni was standing off to one side of the dance floor in the shadows, most of the people there wouldn't have even seen him, and the ones that had wouldn't have recognized him. He was dressed in a black trench coat, a black hat pulled down low to hide his face in it's shadows, and a pair of Ray-Ban Aviator sunglasses with green lenses. It wasn't his normal look and with his face hidden in shadows, no one could know it was him; except maybe for Arianna.
He watched her carefully as she got up on stage and sang. She was incredible up there, she had a wonderful voice, one he'd heard her use many times in the past. He could tell from the way she sang and the way she moved that she was ecstatic about finally having this place for her own, to do with it what she wanted. And the fact that she owed it all to him just made it that much better.
"Come on, Miss Ari! You take ol' Clyde there and show us what ya got."
He was just about to turn and leave and get back to his normal business when he heard the bandleader call out for Arianna. He stopped in the doorway to the bar and turned back around to watch. At first it didn't bother him, but as Clyde continued to swing her around and have his hands all over her, Giovanni's temper just continued to rise. The final nail in Clyde's coffin came at the end of the dance when Arianna leaned up and pressed a kiss to the man's cheek. Giovanni just wasn't going to stand for something like that.
He immediately turned and headed outside of the building. He moved around back where he waited. He knew Clyde would be coming out soon to head home, and when he did, "The Devil" would be waiting for him. He followed the man down the darkened streets of New Orleans, and then, right on the man's front doorstep, Giovanni pulled out his trusted .357 Magnum and emptied it into poor Clyde. The man never stood a chance; that was the price one had to pay for a dance with Giovanni's amore.
* * * * * *
"Miss Ari, Miss Ari! Lawd, somebody dun gone and shot Clyde. Grave yard dead. Th' police found him dis mornin', jus' a layin' on his do'steps, full of holes."
The young black man that had been employed to help Clyde stock whatever needed to be, came running through the front doors of B.G.I., hollering at the top of his lungs. Wide eyed, he skidded to a halt in front of Ari, who's own eyes were beginning to take up a large portion of her face. "What do you mean, they found him dead? Who would want Clyde dead?" Grasping his shoulders, Ari gave him a firm shake to try and calm him down. Inwardly, she could feel something sink, an icy knot forming in the pit of her stomach. She had seen Vannie standing off to the side yesterday when she and Clyde had been dancing, but.. no. He wouldn't do something like that.. All they had done was dance!
"Never mind. You go and tell Clyde's family that I'll take care of everythin'. You hear? They don't have to worry about nothin'." Releasing the man, she spun on her heel and stalked up the steps towards the room she had reserved for her private use. Hands clasped together against her midriff as she approached the door. Forgoing knocking, she pushed the door open and moved quietly inside. Eyes instantly searched out his form, which was seated at the desk commissioned for her when B.G.I. had been purchased.
"Please, amoureux fonc?. Tell me you didn't. Just tell me you didn't." The pleading note in her voice could not be denied, as well as the helpless flutter of her hands.
"Didn't do what, bellissima? It's hard to deny something, when you don't know what that something is." As smooth as silk, he pushed up to his feet, straightening the jacket of his suit as he did so. When everything was righted, only then did he lift his gaze to hers, one brow arching faintly. For a brief instant, Arianna could see straight to his soul, and what she saw there scared her. He had done it, and felt no remorse towards it what-so-ever. Swallowing hard, her gaze dropped down to her shoes, head shaking to first the left and then the right, slowly. "N.. nothing. One of the boys just told me something, and I.. I just wanted to know if you knew anything about it."
Forcing a faltering smile to her lips, her hands dropped to smooth the material of her dress over her hips. Kicking off her heels, Ari slowly walked over his way, her head tilting back enough to allow her hair to slide over to one side as she stared up his way. Guilt was taking over the feelings of fear, and all she could do was just .. be more careful in the future. Gio was a man to be reckoned with, and the least little thing could set him off. In the five years she had known him, she'd only seen him in one of his rages once. The vivid scenes of what he had done to that man.. They still replayed in her mind occassionally.
* * * * * *
She had been walking back to the Golden Slipper after visiting one of the local dressmakers. Liza had sent her there for a new wardrobe, being that Ari was becoming the top "attraction". Gio had been visiting her for about a year now, and she was trying to hurry back because they had an appointment. The click of her heels made enough noise on the pavement to drown out the soft footsteps following behind her. Suddenly, her arm was grabbed, and the large man yanked her over into an alleyway. His body pressed against hers as he pinned her to the wall of an abandoned building, clasping one of his beefy hands around both of her wrists and lifting them above her head. The acrid smell of his breath floated along her cheek as he leaned in to whisper, his other hand dropping down to inch under the fabric of her skirt.
"You think yer too good for t'e likes o' me, huh? You ain't nothin' but some two bit prostitute that got a little above yo' raisin'. Tha's alright. Charlie gonna remind you o' where you come from."
Before she could muster up enough air to scream, his lips pressed over hers with enough force to make her gag, and no matter how she flailed, Ari just couldn't escape. Just when little black dots began swimming in her vision from the lack of oxygen, the man's figure was suddenly jerked back. Crying out, she dropped down to her hands and knees and began scrambling backwards.
Maybe he'd been following her, or maybe he was just in the right place at the right time. But when Giovanni saw the man grab his amore and drag her into an alley, he was on the man in a flash. He rushed into the alleyway and grabbed the back of the man's collar, yanking him away from Arianna. He threw the man down onto the ground and slammed the heal of his boot into the man's face, crushing his nose and breaking a few teeth.
Giovanni was in a rage at this point, and the fury could easily be seen in his eyes. He then reached into his jacket and pulled out one of his guns. The shots echoed in the alleyway as a bullet was put into each of the man's knee caps, and another went right into the man's groin. He certainly wouldn't be raping any more women now. But instead of ending the man's suffering now, Giovanni simply put the gun back in it's holster, then helped Arianna up off the ground and walked her back to the Golden Slipper, leaving the man to fend for himself.
Trails of mascara formed on her cheeks as the tears began in a sudden deluge, and the only way she was staying on her feet was because of Gio's support. Half leaning, half staggering, she followed along beside him with an uneven gait, being that one of her heels had broken off during the scuffle. The scene she had just witnessed kept replaying in her head, and soon her quiet snifflings became full fledged sobs. Walking into the Golden Slipper, the two ignored all of the looks from the other girls, and Gio helped her up to her room. The night was spent in silence, Ari bundled up in his arms.
The pure rage that had been on his face had taken her aback, and she suddenly looked at him with newfound understanding. He might've been the man that occupied most of her nights, with his careful attentions and tender caresses, but he was also a man capable of anything. From that day forward, Ari learned well enough to keep that thought in mind. But sometimes she forgot.. and sometimes people went missing ....
* * * * * *
"Sing for me, bella."
Leaning against the doorway leading into the bathroom, arms dropped to hang limply at her sides; back arching as she rested her head against the molding. Gio was lounging on the bed, nothing but a sheet riding his hips as he looked her way. His shirt, which had gone missing earlier, now came to light as he viewed it on her form. The light filtering in from the bathroom made it nearly transparent, leaving nothing of her curves to the imagination. Not that he didn't know what they looked like, felt like. Shrugging softly, her head dropped down so that she could view the floor as arms lifted to fold across her chest. The words starting off almost in a whisper.
"Try to think that love's not around, but it's uncomfortably near. My old heart ain?t gaining no ground, because my angel eyes ain't here. Angel eyes, that old Devil sent. .They glow unbearably bright, need I say that my love's misspent? Misspent with angel eyes tonight...."
Glancing up his way, she turned and gave a little shimmy - type dance before walking back towards the bed. Placing both hands flat to the bedding, one knee was brought up slowly, followed by the other as she began a lazy crawl towards him. "So drink up all you people, order anything you see. Have fun you happy people, the laugh's and the jokes on me. Pardon me but I got to run, the fact's uncommonly clear. Got to find who?s now number one, and why my angel eyes ain't here."
Coming to a stop directly over him, she tossed her head to the side, to throw her hair over one shoulder, letting the ends trail lightly over his chest. Leaning down, a gentle kiss was pressed to his lips before she pulled back enough to breathe out the final line of the song, her body pressed intimately to his. With only the thin shirt and sheet as a barrier, the heat from his body was enough to make her dizzy with desire. Love him? Of that, she wasn't so sure. But lust him? Whoa - boy, you could bet the farm she lusted after him with an almost mindless sort of passion.
"Excuse me while I disappear, angel eyes...."
* * * * * *
"Sing for me, bella."
He loved listening to her sing; she had such a wonderful voice. That's why he'd encouraged her to start singing at the club. But she had to keep singing for him as well. His deep brown eyes watched every move she made while she was standing there in the bathroom door. His hands were behind his head while he lounged on the bed, only a sheet covering his naked form.
His eyes stayed fixed on her as she made her way back over to the bed, a grin slowly spreading over his face as she climbed up on it with him. When she came to a stop directly over him, he pulled his hands from behind his head and slowly wrapped his arms around her body. When she stopped singing, he moved his hands up under the shirt, softly caressing the warm skin of her back as he lifted his head up to press his lips to hers in a soft kiss.
"You know I love it when you sing for me, amore. I would spend eternity here listening to that beautiful voice if I could?"
With that said, one hand slowly reached over to the nightstand to turn off the light, only the light from the bathroom illuminating the two of them now. She may not have loved him, but he loved her, and it showed in the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, and of course, in the way he made love to her. To him, she was perfect; he would do anything for her.
* * * * * *
He loved her. That's just the way things had always been, for the longest time, and Ari had come to accept it. Just as he had come to accept that she couldn't return his love unrequitedly. Or at least, she thought he had accepted it. There had been one time, a couple of years ago, when she had almost lost her heart to someone else. Lawrence had been one of the men Liza had come in, to help keep order ( or rather, to clean ) in the Golden Slipper. It started off with the occasional exchange of glances, ending in when either one or the other looked away. One evening, before the doors were opened for her business, Ari had made her way downstairs for a quick shot of "courage in a glass", her hand shaking so hard that she couldn't get the lid off of the decanter. Suddenly, a lean hand appeared over her shoulder, the crystal stopper lifting without protest. Turning, she slipped both arms around his waist and did what she did best. Used her body to express what she wanted, and what she was feeling at that moment.
With a low moan, he returned the press of her body with his own, hands slipping up to delve into her mane of ebony curls as he pulled her closer. The glass fell to the floor with a definitive thunk, crystal shards exploding out in all directions. They never had time for more than a quick kiss or embrace in the shadows, but as the days passed, Ari became more and more enamored. So enamored, that she could barely focus on her job.
"Vannie, he's the most wonderful man. He doesn't want me for sex, or for any other reason than I'm .... me!"
Gio had always been the one she could talk to about anything, and Ari saw nothing wrong with sharing her new found emotions with the man. So filled with happiness and what she believed to be love, she never saw the anger flicker within the other man's eyes, or the tense way his jaw set as she spoke. Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, she bade him a farewell for the evening, and fell back onto the bed with a content sigh.
Liza, as well, was well aware of the two young people's feelings, and the next morning she visited Ari's room with a very drawn expression on her overly painted features. Without knocking, the elder woman pushed into Ari's room and moved over to rouse the younger woman from her sleep.
"Ari... Ari.. you be needin' to wake up. I got somethin' ta tell you, girl."
Crumpled in one gnarled hand was a single sheet of paper, the starkness of it almost glowing in the dreary light cast off from the waning moon. The stars were still out, but were quickly being engulfed by the sun as it fought to make it's appearance. As Ari came awake, all Liza did was hand over the sheet of paper and hurry out of the room. Something was wrong with all of this, but it wasn't her place to say anything. No. It wasn't her place at all.
Ari,
My love, my hand is trembling as I write this, and I almost don't have the courage to carry through with it. For reasons of my own, I've decided that I just can't take this no more. The sneaking around, the lying to everybody. It's eating me up inside, and there's only one way to release me from this agony. If you're reading this, it means somebody done went and found my carcass in my room. All I can say is that I'm sorry, amour. I just couldn't take it no more....
Love,
Lawrence.
The entire world went black in that moment, and for the first time in her life.. Ari fainted. Later on, when the police and coroner arrived to take him away, all she could do was stand off to the side, her back pressed to Gio's chest. His arms were wrapped around her supportingly, and as the stretcher passed by near them, he had to lift her and carry her to her room as she fainted again.
* * * * * *
How could she go and tell him that she was in love with another man? How could she go and fall in love with another man in the first place? She was supposed to love him. Even though he knew she didn't, he could still hope for it. She said that this man didn't want her for sex, that he wanted her just for her. Well, so did he, the sex was just an added bonus, and it had been the way they'd met three years before. But he would give that up if it meant he could spend the rest of his life with her.
When she told him about Lawrence, it not only broke his heart, it filled him with rage. As soon as she left for the night, Giovanni was out talking to one of his men. He gave him Lawrence's description and told him where he could be found. He also gave his man instructions to make it look like a suicide. If it just looked like a hit, Arianna would get suspicious, and that wouldn't be a good thing. Besides, if Lawrence killed himself, Arianna would turn to him for comfort, and he'd be right there to give her all that she needed.
He waited until he'd heard from his contacts within the police department that something was going down at the Golden Slipper, and then he made his way over there. He had acted shocked when he saw the body being wheeled out and he was right there to comfort the grieving Arianna. He wasn't too happy that she was grieving for this man, but she'd get over it, especially when he came back that night to stay with her. He let out a soft sigh when she fainted in his arms, then he slowly carried her back up to her room and laid her down on the bed. He pulled the sheets up over her, then leaned his head down to whisper in her ear.
"I'm here for you, bella. I'll always be here, no matter what. And no matter who comes between us, I'll find a way to make things right?"
He brushed her hair back from her face, and then kissed her forehead gently before he straightened back up and headed outside. There was someone to pay for a job well done...
** * * * *
She still thought about him sometimes. When the sky was dark, and the moon was full.. she'd sit in the window and look out over the city; allowing her thoughts to roam where they would. Bittersweet memories of her Mere and Pere flitted in to mingle with the images of the life she'd been living these past five years. Love, she figured, was a luxury that she couldn't afford, no matter how much it might seem like it was worth it. A thin layer of ice had formed over her heart the day they had wheeled Lawrence out of the building, and it seemed to grow thicker and thicker with each passing day.
Men looked her way; they were always looking her way, but Ari did her best to ignore the sly innuendo within their gaze. Her clothes were top quality these days, thanks to Gio, and did everything they were supposed to in regards to showing off her figure. The heels were designed to accentuate slender legs, hair was cut and curled to frame her heart shaped face .. but it was all just a facade. A doll to be put on display; that's how she saw herself. Even when she was alone with Vannie, Ari felt as if she were on stage, reciting lines memorized through years and years of practice.
"The club's about ready to be openin', amoureux fonc?." she said absently one evening, legs crossing themselves behind her as she lay stretched out on her stomach, on the bed. Palms were lifted to cup her chin as she stared his way, watching as he took off the "arsenal" he always carried. Though he never relayed any details as to what he did for a living, she had enough smarts to know. And she also had enough smarts, to not ask anything. "You wanna have one big gala for the first week of business, or just open the doors and pray to God that people like this place? Mardi Gras is right 'round the corner, and the Quarter's gonna be busy with the parades and such."
Usually when they prepared to retire for the night, being that he stayed here more than at his own place, she just took off her clothes and climbed into the bed with him, but tonight, all she had done was removed her dress. The black corset and matching knickers still cinched her form into it's "perfect" shape; filmy hose still attached to the garter. With a discontent sigh, she rolled over onto her back and stretched, arms going over her head as her back lifted an inch or so off of the bed. "I swear, if this place is a bust, I'm just gonna go stick my head in the bayou and leave it there until a gator snaps it off."
"You'll do no such thing, now stop talking like that. You know damn well this place is going to be great. If I have to, I'll stand outside and point guns at people until they come in and buy a drink."
After he pulled his guns off and carefully laid them on the dresser, he kicked his boots off, then pulled his shirt and pants off before he slowly turned back around to face her. He watched her as she rolled around on the bed a bit, then he made his way over and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her.
He reached his hand out to brush her hair back from her face, a soft smile on his own face as he looked down at her. He really did love her, and he wanted nothing more than for her to succeed in this dream of hers. He'd helped her build it, and he would help her with whatever else she needed. He'd supply her with the finest alcohol money could buy, which was quite an accomplishment since it was illegal, he'd make sure she always had all the employees she needed, and like he'd said, he do whatever he had to to make sure she had all the customers she needed.
"Don't worry, bella. This place will be the best club this city has ever seen, I'm sure it will be packed every night. You'll be making more money than you've ever dreamed of. Now get some sleep, you're going to need it."
He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her lips, then he moved around to the other side of the bed and climbed into with her. The covers were pulled over the two of them, and his arms went around her protectively. These were the moments he lived for, to just hold her in his arms and be able to make sure nothing bad ever happened to her?
"Sweet dreams, amore?"
* * * * * *
The finishing touches had been added, everything was in order, and all that was needed now was for B.G.I. to open. She had gone to Clyde's family and helped with all of the preparations, completely taking over the financial aspect of the funeral. Of course, she then had to go to Gio to get the money, but it had never been a problem. Perhaps it was just a way for her to deal with the guilt she felt about how the man had died. After all, if she hadn't made him dance with her, .. Gio wouldn't have seen, and he wouldn't have gunned the man down.
The day of the funeral, she had stayed ensconsed in her room, dressed completely in black; from the full skirted dress she wore, down to the flats on her feet. Not bothering with any make - up, she kept herself busy by going over the books Gio had left on her desk, dealing with the club. All of the numbers and the like were giving her a headache, but the only way Ari could have control, was to learn how to do this. Griping the pen in her hand tightly, it was soon thrown across the room, followed by a heavy paperweight, and then a sheaf of papers that had been close at hand. Watching the papers float down to the floor, a tight expression came over features then. Why did she have to be so stupid? She was firmly in Gio's debt, for probably the rest of her life, considering everything he had done for her. All he wanted in return was .. love.
Love. The one emotion she had denied herself so long ago; denied it for so long, that she wasn't sure if it could ever be reached again. Rubbing at her face wearily, she pushed up to her feet and walked over to begin gathering the papers once more. All she needed was for him to come in, asking questions as to why the room looked like a cyclone hit it. Straightening the papers in her lap, her gaze was drawn inexplicably towards the rumpled bed. No matter how much she tried to deny it, the sexual strong hold he held over her was not to be denied. Of course, he never pressed her to return the feelings, though he had no qualms about expressing his so eloquently.
Slamming the sheaf onto the desk, Ari moved over to tug the heavy drapes shut over the window, effectively closing out any light that might've tried to filter in. The single candle she had lit and left on the night stand cast off a faint glow over the room, and she began peeling off the mourning dress. Giving a slight hop as she neared the bed, both shoes were removed and tossed over to the side, before she crawled onto the soft mattress and stretched out flat on her stomach. Not having the energy to remove her stockings or underthings, she just lay there, amethyst hues wide open and staring at the far wall. "Jesus Christ, you gone and done it this time, girl." was whispered to herself.
It was then that Giovanni decided to make his presence known. How long had he been standing in the doorway? She probably would never find out. He had this odd habit of just appearing like that. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, those deep brown eyes of his slowly moving from the desk to her form stretched out on the bed.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, bella, but I'm sure that whatever it is, it's not as bad as you think it is. And you know you can always talk to me?I will always be here for you?"
He pushed himself off the doorframe and slowly made his way over to the bed where he sat down on the edge of it next to her. He moved one hand out to rest on her back for a moment, then he slowly began to rub it, trying his best to comfort her. He knew she was upset about Clyde, but that unfortunate incident just couldn't be avoided. Everyone in that town knew who he was, and what he did, and anyone with half a brain knew that he considered Arianna his and he would do whatever he had to make sure people didn't forget that.
"Cheer up, amore. You club is about to open, everything will be perfect. I know it will be."
He smiled down at her reassuringly, then he climbed up onto the bed with her. He kneeled over her, one leg on either side of her hips, then went to work massaging her shoulders and back with both hands. If anything would help her relax, he knew that would. And just maybe she'd open up and tell him just what it was that was bothering her.
Folding her arms beneath her chin, his voice suddenly sounding in the room recieved a startled look as she turned her head enough to look his way. How long had he been standing there? Sooty lashes lowered to cover her eyes as she shook her head, twisting it back around to face the wall, as her eyes opened once more. Could she reply honestly to that? There had been a time when she would've poured her heart and soul out to him, without question. Why did it seem different now?
"It's nothin', cher. Just talkin' to myself about nothin' in particular." Forcing a smile to her lips, she cast a look over her shoulder towards him. "I didn't hear you come up." As his hands settled and began moving, she gave a low moan and let her eyes fall shut again as he worked on the tension knotting in her back. Head dropping forward, she uncrossed her legs from where she had hooked them together at the ankles, and carefully manuevered until she was on her back, staring up his way. Fingers trailed up the front of his shirt, stopping here and there to undo a button whenever she came to one, eyes holding fast to the task at hand, hoping he couldn't see the utter despair glinting within the violet orbs.
"You really think it's gonna be a success, Vannie? Clubs are a dime a dozen here in the Quarter. I'm guessin' they just gonna peg me as a prostitute that got a little above her raisin'." The line that the man that had tried to rape her came to mind, and she frowned slightly, hands pausing momentarily from their task of parting the fabric of his shirt.. "I don't know what I'm doing, and they gonna know that too." And they're going to know that anybody that crosses me, even unintentionally, is going to wound up like Clyde. Being found on their doorsteps, riddled with holes.
* * * * * *
Spring was starting to make it's presence known full force in New Orleans, and everyone could tell by the rising temperatures and pressing humidity that was beginning to fill the air. The nights so far had been reasonably cool, so all of the windows on the first floor, as well as the door, were left open, allowing faint glimpses inside of the building, and the sounds of jazz music that filtered out from the lounge area. Making her way across the opulent foyer, Ari moved from the casino part over towards the lounge, pausing in the door way long enough to give a brief once over to the milling crowd. True to Gio's word, the place had been packed every single night since they had been open, and she couldn't suppress the strong feeling of accomplishment rising up in her chest.
"Miss Ari, I got somethin' you might want to hear."
Slightly out of breath, the young boy stopped before her, taking a moment to regain his equilibrium before attempting speech again. Grabbing her arm, he tugged her down to his level, so that he could whisper quietly into her ear. "That man over there at table four. He been braggin' 'bout how he was gonna take Mr. Giovanni out and take his place in da world. Don't know what he meant, but I knew you'd wanna know." Straightening up, she gave him a nudge towards the kitchen area, telling him to reward himself with whatever he wanted out of there. Running her hands down her hips, smoothing down the fabric of her dress and all, she began a slow walk over this man's way.
"Is this seat taken, mon coeur?" she asked quietly, even as she was tugging out the chair beside him. A bright smile was offered to his other male companions, their appreciative looks blatantly ignored as she began her little 'mission'. Clinging to the man's arm as if every word he said was gold, Ari fawned over him like some google - eyed, lovestruck girl. Minutes bled into hours, and just when she thought she was going to have to do this all night.. he finally made a move.
"How's about you and me go upstairs, darlin'. To that little den you got set up. There's a few things I can be showin' ya, instead of tryin' to tell ya."
With a slight nod, she pushed herself up to her feet, giving a nod to everyone as the two excused themselves. The whispers reached her ears as they walked off, and Ari couldn't bat down the feeling of shame she had; because of her past.
"I wonder if she's as good in bed as she looks."
"I bet them legs can wrap clear around anythin'. I had a friend that used t'visit her."
"Who cares about the legs, I'm wantin' to know what she can do with that mouth."
Regardless, they weren't her concern right now. As sure as her name was Arianna Lissette, payback would be hers against those type of people. Turning around to face the man, she walked slowly up the stairs backwards, giving him a tug every now and then to make sure he was following. And oh, he was following. His free hand came up to loosen his tie, and the smug smile on his features couldn't be denied. Without another word, she pushed the door open to her room and made her way inside, pulling him in after. Little did he know that she had sent someone up to make sure Gio knew what was going on ....
* * * * * *
That's how it was to be... whether she wanted it to be that way or not...
-
[ Collaborated posts between the mun's of Ari and Orin. ]
June, 1941
The beginning of the end
"Maintenant le jour plus de, nuit dessine le nigh;
Les ombres de la soir?e, volent ? travers le ciel.
Par le long nuit-observe, diffusion d'anges de thine de mai,
Leur blanc s'envole au-dessus de moi, observant autour de mon lit.
Quand les wakens de matin, alors peuvent je surgir,
Pur et frais et sinless, dans les yeux saints thy."
Singing softly to herself as she folded clothes, Ari retraced her steps back over towards the closet to gather another armful of garments to transfer to the bed. Now that she had her own place to live, the room at the club wouldn't be necessary. Of course, she'd still be here to run it and such, but a majority of the work was shifting over onto Gio's shoulders. If he wanted the club so bad, he could run it. She'd manage it, still, of course. After all, she hadn't spent all of those months learning how to keep the books for nothing. One day soon, she was going to approach him with the idea of selling B.G.I. to her, but she had to make sure she had enough funds for it first. The house and land had set her back a good amount but.. things would work out.
Glowering down to the dresses, she sort of nudged them to the side and instead concentrated on packing her most comfortable, worn clothes. For the first few weeks, there was to be a lot of work going on within the estate. Painting, repairing molding, etc. The place was in good shape, but it also had potential. Ari was going to make sure that it lived up to its potential. Thank God she had Tom to help, even though Marie had finally had the baby the other night. Another little girl, this one named Ruby Lissette. Ruby after the shock of red hair the baby possessed, and Lissette after the child's godmother. That had been a surprise within itself, but she had accepted the title gratefully.
Pausing as another suitcase was added to the three sitting near the door, both hands went around to press to the small of her back as she glanced around. Tiresome, tiresome work. It helped to keep her mind off of a certain someone, though that only lasted for a few seconds. Then, creepcreep, he'd start infringing in on her mind yet again. Shaking her head suddenly, she moved over to the small vanity over in the corner and grabbed a pack of cigarettes, tapping one out and placing it between her lips as she then searched for a lighter. It was starting to get annoying that she never had one, and the sudden offerance of flame from behind her.. almost made Ari jump out of her skin. Pulling the cigarette from her mouth, she turned around slowly, eyes widening with the faintest tinges of fear as she recognized the man standing there.
"Bradley..."
Aaron Thibodeaux's eldest son; heir to the Thibodeaux fortune now that his father was, .. erm, deceased. The look on his face spoke all too clearly that he wasn't here for a social visit. One hand reached out to lock around her upper arm in a death grip - it just so happening to be the arm connected to the shoulder Aaron had shot her in - causing her to cry out from the pain of it, before his other hand came around and pressed the barrel of a rather large gun to her forehead. Giving her another yank, he pushed her towards the bed while still holding on, almost enjoying her cries of pain. His question was asked in an almost jovial tone, a faint smile curving the edges of his mouth cruelly as his thumb came up to click back the hammer on the gun.
"Now, Arianna. Where's your friend?"
____________________________________
The ease with which he had been able to enter the club was still astounding. Apparently, when Arianna had disassociated herself with Giovanni, all of his man power and protection had left the woman. How.. vulnerable it must feel to know there's no one around to help, in any sort of situation.. The bar tender that seemed to have an endless fascination with the whore was home with his wife, and two children. Any guards that might've stuck around out of compassion had left hours ago, and the only other person inside.. was one of the people he so direly wanted to see.
The death of his father had left an empty hole within his family - his mother was irreconcilable in her grief. His other brother was by far too young to know the inner workings of the family "business".. so it was all left up to Bradley to extract his revenge.
Revenge.. was a sweet emotion it was. Gloved fingers curled inwards towards his palms convulsively as he made his way inside, a hat tipped down low over his brow to try and discourage any recollection of what he looked like in case a passerby had noticed him entering B. G. I. With an ensemble consisting of said gloves and hat, with the addition of a noir trench coat covering any other clothing, he almost seemed like Death himself was walking inside. The only thing he needed was a scythe. But ah, lovely technology. The scythe had been abandoned for a high power revolver.
Lingering just outside of her doorway, cobalt hues narrowed as he peered through the barely open structure. What she was doing? He neither knew nor cared. The only problem he was having with the suitcases, was that they were blocking the door's opening. Several heart stopping moments had him on his hands and knees, nudging the cases aside as quietly as possible. With her singing to herself, Ari never heard the faint scraping noises issuing from the doorway.
A variance of emotions passed through him as he stared at her back; his body shifting over just so to the side so that his reflection wouldn't show within the small mirror over the vanity she was in front of. Disgust. Hatred. Lust. The thought of f/cking her had as much appeal as killing her. He could see why his father had been rather dogged in his attempts. If only that loony painted bastard hadn't decided to take an interest in her as well, most of this could've been avoided. But no. He had to stick his white grease-painted nose into business that just did NOT concern him.
They'd both get theirs. Bradley would make sure of that. Watching her a bit more closely, muffled footsteps had him come directly up behind her, the lighter held out at arms length as she fumbled with the cigarette. An almost grim satisfaction twisted his features as he noticed that.... why yes. She was scared of him. She knew why he was here! Tsk to all of those people that had told him she was an ignorant floozy only good for one thing. There was no doubt that she was highly skilled at her trade, and as his hand curled around her upper arm, the utter desire to find out almost made him shiver.
Somehow, the bed suddenly became in his line of sight, and a rather forceful nudge had her sprawling across it. The fabric of her silky robe parted just so around the legs, and the view was gladly taken in, as he paused before her prone form. The gun - instead of being pressed into her forehead as before - was now loosely aimed in the general direction of her chest. Resting his thumb lightly over the hammer, he allowed it to click back into place; just so he could watch the fear take a firm grip on her. It was an almost heady thing; this fear she exhibited. Never thinking himself a sadist, the feelings surprised him, as well as excited him.
"Now, Arianna.." he began almost pleasantly, head canting over to the side just enough to allow the small fringe of blonde to fall over his brow with the movement. ".. where is your friend?"
"I.. don't know who you're talking about."
Eyes narrowed a touch on her face as she so blatantly lied! Rolling his shoulders back with vague indifference, the gun was shifted to his other hand, even as his knees somehow managed to find themselves on either side of her body. Dropping the weapon a touch, his finger moved away from the trigger so as not to shoot her by accident, being that the barrel was now pressed very firmly to the side of her head. His face dropped mere inches away from hers; lips pausing a breath away.
"If you just lie about it, this is going to take all night. The longer it takes, the more pain you're going to feel." Instead of kissing her on the mouth, he suddenly dropped his lips to press to the tip of her nose, almost fondly "You're too beautiful to hurt much. Just tell me where I can find the painted whack job, and I'll leave." Empty words devoid of any truth, those were, and they both knew it. Tongue darting out, Ari wetted her lips with a quick movement as her gaze jerked up to his. For a moment.. a brief moment, it seemed as if she were going to tell him. Instead, she shook her head slowly, strands of hair escaping the top knot she had pinned them in to fan across her forehead and to curl down the curve of her cheek.
"It won't do any good, Bradley. Aaron tried to rape me.. tried to kill me.. he did shoot me.. What good can possibly come out of this?"
"One way or another, I will find out." Without further warning, the gun was pressed even harder against her temple as a livid expression came over his face. So caught up in his lustful pursuit and anger, that he had momentarily forgotten what they were talking about. Reality hit with a sound thud, though. "He'll be here, eventually. And I'll be here to greet him."
And so, with him straddling her with a gun pressed to her temple ... they waited.
_________________________________________
If luck just so happens to be a lady...then she's a bitch. She's also a slut if she favors those who run around with colored appendages of dead animals and mutant clovers. She and Orin go way back. Way back. To say they've had their ups and downs together is an understatement. The ups...well the ups were no more than illusions or just her and lady Fate teasing him again. The downs though...the downs were at times quite positively worse than anything Satan could have put in his master plans with the construction of Hell. So Orin and Luck don't talk much these days. He doesn't believe in her anymore really. Who needs luck when they can cheat? He had all the right cards stuffed up his sleeves to make his own luck now. He's cheated death, Fate is either terrified of him, or too bored to bother. Even Time has seemed to abandon him ... ever since the queen yelled "He's murdering the time!" He won't do a thing he's asked.
Seems Luck not only was a bitch and a slut but also had a taste for vengeance and wake up calls. Orin lost his invincibility to her when Ari carefully stepped into his shadowbox slide show sideshow existence. The Dark Comedy turns a new page and now suddenly...everything matters. The feeling was so distant from his memory that it was strange to be feeling it without breathing.
The nights were tolling in on him. One after another slip by and luck refuses to let him feed. It had been a nuisance to hide for so long and now his strength was low. It was beginning to show. No, he didn't look near the complete horror he has been at times before but he certainly did not look well. A suggestion from one of his own kind might suggest that a child would have been easy and enough to allow for bigger game. He'd sooner burn though than take such advice. After he finished burning the suggester first of course.
Walking the streets and getting a great view of his feet he felt drawn and a little depressed over reasons he wouldn't share with himself. When he finally stopped only the tiled concrete beneath his feet was in his line of sight. He could tell just by looking at the way the cracks spread where his strides had brought him. He would have been surprised had he not been suprised that they would bring him here. Gaze drifting up slowly emeralds traced over the lit sign of the Broken Glass Inc. Well...She reigned his thoughts, why not his movements and sense of direction as well?
To slip into the sanctuary of her arms for an hour...
That would be enough...
In through the door. Mindless of anyone else. Or no one else since there was no anyone else. His steps took him to the stairs. It wasn't just the paint, the pin striped suit, white feathered fedora hat and checkered tie that made him different from the countless other men who've climbed these stairs. His steps were naturally quiet. A child of the trapeze and tightrope treads lightly out of habit.
He wasn't aware of his footsteps though much less anything else at the moment. His thoughts occupied him mostly as he neared the door. Eyes slipped upward to the soft amber glow that spilled out the half open door and cast itself along the floorboards in a triangular pattern.
Things were so quiet that he wondered if she'd be asleep. He loved to watch her sleep...and at the same time he was guilty of always wanting to wake her. Lets just say she was good at keeping the ugly wugglies at bay. What time was it though? A white hand reached to delve into the pocket at his side. A jangle of watch chain and a quiet clink of metal as his hand stirred the contents of his pockets. His zippo...some change ... and the silver pocket watch which he sought. Finally reaching her door one hand was placed flat against the door's surface. In his other hand he released the silver cover of the pocket watch with the touch of a button. His gaze was downcast on the face of the twisted one-of-a-kind pocket watch with it's five hands spinning at different speeds opposite each other and it's thirteenth hour. Almost nine thirty...even grandmothers didn't go to bed this early.
___________________________________________
Apparently he was in the mood for conversation. That was kind of funny, if you thought about it. Bradley had came here with thoughts of killing; outright murder, and here he was.. carrying on a conversation as if they were merely having tea. Of course, there was no tea .. just him, her, and a gun. The whole scenario would be downright hilarious, if perhaps it were happening to someone else.
"So.. you and Gio called it quits, huh? I figured it was only a matter of time.. You musta f/cked up big time to cause that. Whatcha do?" The gun was pressed just a bit tighter to her temple to give her a little more incentive to answer. And quickly; his trigger finger was getting jumpy.
There was nothing more in this world that she would love to do, more, than spit in his face and let him know exactly what sort of bastard he was. Then again, that added incentive enforced the theory of "Keep your damned mouth shut for once and answer the question." Who'd have ever thought that would happen?
"..he wanted more than I was willing to give him..."
"What the hell does that mean? You were screwin' him for five years.. what else could he want?"
Jesus, would this guy shut up? Narrowing her eyes on his face for a moment, her throat worked convulsively as she swallowed back the words she wanted to say. Is it any of your f/cking business, asshole? Instead, she opted to go with the truth. That worked sometimes, right?
"He wanted a wife, kids, and a picket fence. Not exactly my style." Flippancy was good.
And apparently her answer amused him, because Bradley gave a quiet snort of laughter. "Marriage, huh? What the hell prompted him to want to marry a two bit whore like you?" She would've shrugged if she was able, but all Ari could do was make that "I dunno" face. Why the HELL was he talking cordially while pressing a gun to her head? God all Mercy, this situation was messed up. Before she had the chance to answer though, he tapped her lightly on the side of the head with said gun; motioning for her to be quiet. "Don't want your little friend to hear somethin' and try to run." A finger on his free hand was pressed to her lips as he leaned down again; just making himself comfortable. Her lower body was starting to fall asleep, and he was a tad on the heavy side.
Several long moments clicked by, the only noises reaching their ears being the sounds of the cars rushing by outside, and the shouts of the people walking by the club; on their way to a good time since B.G.I. was closed, yet again. Feeling a bit fidgety, Bradley made to get up from over Ari and slide down to his feet, when a faint noise reached his ears. Suddenly on alert, he grabbed her by the hair and gave her a tug, his mouth pressing against her ear so that he could whisper without being heard by anyone else. "One word from you, and your 'tender and his nice family gets a bullet." With that, they slid over beside the bed, onto the floor; Ari situated in front of him as a sort of human shield.
Tears filled her eyes as she could almost envision what was to happen next, and she began praying fervently that it was someone else. Gio. One of his guards. Hell, even one of her girls. Anybody but him. Bradley was ready to fire at the first sight of a body part coming through that door, and a sick feeling welled up in the pit of her stomach. As the hammer on the gun clicked back softly, he extended his arm around her, so that he could get a clear view of the door and who ever was to enter through it.
It's show time.
___________________________________________
A Note about his thoughts: His thoughts... What had they been before they expired just then with an upward glance. They'd been somewhere along the lines of consideration for a confession. Telling her. Explaining to her. It would be worse for her to find out wouldn't it? You know...they're only a select few ways she could find out. He'd thought out the obvious ones at least. Some were worse than others and some were even unthinkable but not a one of them was ... pleasant.
Pleasant or not she was bound to find out...he knew her well enough--hell..he knew himself well enough to realize that she'd find out eventually. one way or another. The wrong way or another. Perhaps the worst way.
There was no "best" way and so (being the creature of logical logic he is) he'd decided that perhaps just telling her was the most painless way. That way at least...it would eliminate her finding out in one of the situations he'd listed in the "worst way" category. Besides...they were getting kind of far into this. He wasn't so sure about himself but he was sure Ari hadn't passed the point of no return yet.
Before he had reached into the pocket at his side fingers had slipped into the inside breast pocket of his jacket in a vain search for a smoke. His hands mixed up his pockets though and that just so happened to be the one which contained the thing he'd bought her. Of course it was a gift she would never receive. More illusions. More fantasies which were better kept to oneself. He just liked having it... but ... it wasn't cigarettes or cloves so he checked the other side. Nada... he should have hit the corner store when he passed it. Had he passed it?
Back to telling her though. Jack had helped him weigh the pros and cons. They've had a bit of bonding time lately actually. He expected to be laughed at. He expected her to take him for joking. He expected anger, maybe some violence, yelling, maybe hate or perhaps even the off chance (yet not entirely improbable) response of a "so what?"
With the soft click of a gun's hammer his gaze was drawn up from the pocket watch. He barely had time to try and make something of the scene because...
The last thing he expected was a gun.
___________________________________________
It hurt so much. Much more than she had ever thought it would. Every time Ari closed her eyes, she saw the same scene. Bradley standing beside her bed; her sprawled across the bed, leveled by a blow to her face; Orin entering the room suspiciously.. never having the chance to really.. dodge. The twisted sound of Bradley's laughter haunted her nightmares; the sound coupled with the multitude of gun shots. One after another; one - two - three - four - five - six. Two hollow clicks and then the sounds would start up again. Two guns emptied into Orin. Various body parts stained with blood -- so much blood. He sort of looked like a child's gruesome canvas, smeared with red finger paint. Bright, vivid, scarlet red. Screaming.. who was making that noise? Bradley was yelling out curses as he fired
".. rot in hell..."
".. f/ckin' painted clown .. no reason to live..."
Only when Orin was lying motionless on the floor, blood seeping out many, many wounds to drain onto the floor, did Bradley turn back towards Arianna. Her eyes had widened so much, they almost seemed to take up her entire face. Skin had faded to that sickly ashen white one only got when they were in shock. Without warning, he grabbed her by the back of the head and literally pulled her off of the bed, to drag her across the floor. With a violent shove, she was sent sprawling atop Orin's prone form, her hands sliding grotesquely through all of the vitae on and around him as she grasped for the lapel of his jacket. He felt so cold.. Fingers lifted to press to the curve of his neck.. no pulse. Making a low sound in the back of her throat, frightened eyes averted from his face, to look up towards Bradley.
"Remember him like that, whore. Just like that..."
Crouching down next to her, his hand snaked around to the back of her head once more, fingers tightening in her hair only to shove her face down almost flat into the blood on Orin's shirt. Red stained hands flailed helplessly around as she tried to aim a hit at Bradley, but he merely laughed and held her down. To the point of being physically ill at the treatment, and from the coppery taste filling her mouth from the spilled blood, one leg kicked out successfully to land a hit into Bradley's mid section. With a muffled grunt, he doubled over, his grip loosening enough on Ari so that she could make a run for the bathroom. Funny. The carpet was soaked enough to squish, with blood, and she was making a mad dash for the bathroom so as not to make a mess.
Regaining his composure -- and breath -- enough to stand, a violent (even moreso than before) rage over came him as he stared down at the motionless Orin. Almost beside himself with this.. anger, several kicks were aimed to Orin's side; one after the other, until Bradley's leg fairly gave out. Hunching down enough so that his hands pressed flat to his knees, several deep breaths were taken to steady himself, before he straightened upright. A small grin curved his lips suddenly.
"You like riddles, clown boy? Huh? What's red, black, and white?" was whispered out towards the dead man. One final nudge to Orin's side was given with his foot, another sadistic grin curled across his features as he moved in to whisper the answer. ".. you."
Hearing the noises emit from the bathroom, from a violently ill Arianna, a tug was given to his lapels before he spun on his heel to head in after her. Being the gentleman that he was -- of course -- he gave her enough time to compose herself and all before snatching her up by the arm. More shoving ensued as Ari was taken back into the bedroom. One final push had her stumbling over Orin's body, a startled cry breaking free from her lips as she fell over him; hitting the floor on the opposite side of him. Three black clothed men burst in through the door, and spread out around the two, eyes expectantly settling onto Bradley, as if awaiting orders. He looked up to them and motioned for them to pick up Orin and carry him out to the waiting car. Following behind them, Ari was dragged along by her hair.
"We're going to take a trip.."
___________________________________________
Moving paper fantasies, nightmares and harsh reality. It was so hard to convince your mind that you're not splitting apart on the inside when the outside tries so hard to convince it otherwise. Somewhere inside of him there was a rush. He couldn't tell if it was pain or the sudden splatter of blood. He watched as if it wasn't his own. So much blood...What a waste.
Ripped open by metal explosion ... One - two- blood on his shoes. Three- four ...crimson door...
The two hollow clicks would give him time enough for his knees to find the floor. All this blood. Where was it coming from? Heh...it kind of reminded him of a joke.
So this guy walks into his daughters room right? He looks around and sees her dolls and then he sees the tea table set for two and all her stuffed animals. But then he looks at the doll house...and the doll's house... looks back...
With another deafening roar of an angry gun he fell back and as his weight was given up to the floor his pocket watch rolled from splatter paint fingertips. It clunked on to the floor and remained open and facing him like an oyster on it's side.
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
Only the silver chain remained entwined between limp white fingertips and the clock face spun at him worriedly. It was good that he couldn't hear the gun anymore. What a god damned noisy invention. All there was now was the tick tock tick tock of the spinning clock.
"Huh" ... painted lips of a new color seemed to manage with a dab of mirth. "Two days wrong..." Eyes were rolling shut...the watch was making him dizzy. That's all. "I told you not to use the butter..."
"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
All this blood. Blood blood everywhere but not a drop to drink. Where did Ari go? Someone was yelling ... yelling...but it wasn't Ari.
Don't say it...
Don't dare say it...
"clown"
That word...
Ari?
But answer came there none--
________________________
Did it ever feel like time had just stopped? As if the whole world had went on freeze frame; every single person paused exactly as they were, except for you? You're left to wander around aimlessly, wondering exactly what went on, and was going to happen. Faintly unsettling feeling, it was. Every single bullet fired almost seemed to go forward in slow motion; so slow that she could actually watch it's progression until it imbedded itself into whatever body part of his that it was in range of. Funny.. blood doesn't look all that red when so much of it is coming out. Sort of a dark brown.. maybe burgundy.. or maybe it was because she felt like she was on the verge of passing out. It was sort of hard to distinguish color and reality when tiny black dots were swimming in your line of sight. After the first round had been emptied into Orin, Bradley took it upon himself to knock her over out of the way -- lovingly done with a backhand to the right side of her face. Really, people were going to have to start using the left... pretty soon, those were going to start leaving marks..
When it was all said and done with; after Bradley had tossed her around enough and she had emptied all of her cookies -- though she couldn't remember the last time she had cookies -- apparently it was time for a ride. Wouldn't you just know that it looked like a storm blowing in over the city? Why the f/ck did it always rain on nights like this? Worse yet, how would she know what a night like this was? Orin had been unceremoniously dumped into the trunk, though the goons had enough consideration to make sure all body parts were tucked inside before the lid was slammed shut, and Ari was now nestled cozily between Thug One and Thug Two in the back-seat. Thug Three was driving and Bradley was giving instructions. The whole ordeal had seemed to give him a sort of high; the bastard was positively giddy with his success.. and she felt like throwing up again. It seemed that her whole body was soaked in blood, and not a single drop hers. The body was only supposed to hold five pints of blood. Or something like that. Hm, it seemed more like five gallons. Sidetracked.. getting sidetracked...
How long they drove, Ari couldn't remember. After the first ten miles or so, she had sort of passed out. Thug Two was such a gentleman. He had made sure she was propped up, so she wouldn't get a crick in her neck. And people said chilvary was dead. The conversation circulating around the car was next to none. Bury him? Sure. Where? I know a place, keep driving. Okay, Boss. Okay, Boss. How utterly f/cking generic did that sound? Maybe Brad should put a collar around that one and tug him around like an overgrown lap dog.
.. sidetracked again...
"Wake up, already. This ain't a damn bed and breakfast. You got work to do, chickie."
Chickie. She hated that f/cking word. Blinking awake, a well aimed stream of spit and a couple of curses earned her another back hand but hey. It was worth it to watch his face turn purple, from rage. Hey, neat trick Bradley, your dad did the same that night before his brains got splattered over the sidewalk. Ha ha. Look, she thought a funny. This entire situation was definitely not funny. He was dead.. God.. As that thought lit her mind, it felt as if someone had slammed her in the stomach with a tire iron. No - no one had done that. Yet. Here's for hoping, eh? As the trunk was popped open, Ari politely excused herself and went over to start retching in the bushes away from the little gathering. A woman throwing up must've been funny, because they started laughing their asses off at that. By the time she had turned around, Orin was on the ground, and there was a shovel being handed to her.
Damn it, she just had her nails done, too...
"What's that for?" was asked rather stupidly to Bradley, her eyes averted so they wouldn't focus on something she hoped and prayed she'd never see. He was always so worried that her hanging around with him.. was going to get her killed. How's this for cruel irony? It was the other way around...
Make it stop...
"I figure since you liked beddin' up with him and all, you get to .. tuck him in for the night.."
Gee, and people said the f/ckhead didn't have a sense of humour. Shaking her head vehemently from side to side, a gun was pulled from his inner jacket and leveled her way. So what, go ahead and shoot me. It's not like I really feel like living right now..
"Either you get to diggin' or I'm goin' to make a trip over to East Persimmon and make some really big holes in some people you happen to care about."
Marie just had the baby.... Decisions, decisions. Half stumbling, half crying, the shovel was jerked from his hands, and for the briefest of moments, she almost hit him with it. Yeah, she could take him down, but then Thug One, Two, and Three might get pissy. Bastards.
It really didn't take all that long to dig a hole. Not when your mind was set on it. Afterall, the motions helped her not to think; which was odd considering what she was digging the damned hole for. Nah, this was just a dream. She was going to wake up in the morning, safe in her bed, Orin was going to be off... doing what the hell it was he did all day and half the night, and then when the sun set.. things would be normal again. Right?
She kept telling herself that, even when Bradley made her roll Orin's body into the hole. The thugs would cover him up; Ari had done her job for the evening. And much obliged to you, for doing it chickie...
Shaking, cold, numb, and weary, all she could was allow herself to be once more, thrown into the car. This time, they were going to go pay a little visit to some people Brad knew. There was a party being hosted in her honor, and they were simply ecstatic she could make it. It was going to be a cutting good time.
<font color="#95542E" size="1">[ May 30, 2006 01:37 AM: Message edited by: vintage faith ]</font>
-
One year later: June, 1942
Things - as of late - were very hectic. The club was gearing up for yet another one of it's theme balls and there just never seemed to be any.. time. Since the night of the attack -- the most recent one -- guard numbers had tripled within bgi. Every available space not usually inhabited by patrons was now filled with heavily armed gentleman. Even upstairs, where the girls worked, a guard was positioned at the foot and head of the stairwell, as well as around the general perimeter of the balcony overlooking the foyer. It almost looked like the president had decided to visit the place.
One could never be too careful these days, with all of the 'bad guys' flittering about; both underground and in the general public...
* * * * *
Ari had managed to get away from the preparations long enough to disappear into her office, where an overabundance of paperwork, payrolls, and invoices were awaiting her attention. As soon as she settled into her chair, the phone sprung to life, causing her to sigh heavily before answering it. "Hello?" automatically asked/answered in that polite business tone she managed when the occasion called for it. Frank's voice began talking on the other end, and with a concealed groan, a pencil was taken up. She should kick herself in the ass for offering her help with his campaign. It wasn't like she didn't have anything else to do.
"Yeah.. yeah.. uh huh.. right. Really? Yeah.. mhm.. Look Frank? I'm sort of bus--" On the verge of making up any excuse she could to get him off of the phone, her words trailed off to a dead silence as her gaze caught movement at her doorway. Bradley offered his best 'all around nice guy smile' to the guard blocking his path into the room, all the while shoving a card into the gent's pocket. Always campaigning, even in here. One had to admire his spirit, all the while wanting to extinguish it at the same time.
"I'm pretty sure she'll see me," said amiably as he caught sight of her staring in horror towards him, and he smiled again. This time, there was nothing nice about the gesture. Making a discreet movement that the guard didn't catch wind of -- because he was looking to Arianna for confirmation -- his jacket was pulled back to show the gun he had in his right hand. Pointed at the guard, and ready to be fired. Times like these were when Ari wished she was a heartless bitch that didn't care of someone died. "Y--yeah, let him in," assented after a long moment before she remembered she was still on the phone. "I'll call you back," was all she said before replacing the phone back into it's cradle; Frank's questions about whether or not she was all right cut off abruptly.
"I'm here to discuss business, if that's all right with you," still carried on in that smooth tone, the gun shoved back into its hidden holster as he moved farther into the room. The door was kicked shut lightly behind him. "I don't believe I have any with you, Bradley," returned evenly as she kept her position in her chair. Shrugging, he pulled out a chair on the other side of the desk and settled himself gracefully into it. "That's up for you to decide, I guess. I'm not here to hurt you." A short pause followed before he finished. "Yet. Looks like somebody beat me to the punch, anyway." A look to her bruises. "Tell me, how's the club doing?" Flickering a glance to the papers in front of her, he helped himself to one of the bank receipts from her last drop and began perusing the numbers.
Of course, that didn't last long before Ari jerked the paper out of his hand; tossing it back to the top of her desk as she finally stood. Fastening the button on her jacket across her midriff, the desk drawer was opened before she shoved the paperwork inside; away from his prying fingers and eyes. "We're doing well, actually, thanks for asking," lied just as smoothly as he, before hands clasped at the small of her back. "How's the run for trying to screw the city into the ground?"
A flash of white teeth was her only answer as he laughed, hands going out at his sides in a defenseless gesture while looking towards her. Eyes slid slowly -- almost lewdly -- up the length of her body before he finally met her own eyes. "I'm just another hard working man wanting to do what's right for his city." The earned a laugh from her. "Oh, yes. Do what's right. Raising taxes sky high on the businesses here, while lowering them for your little mob friends? Right. That's exactly what this city needs. More scum like you running things, controlling the cash flow."
A brow arched lazily as he listened, a slouch taken in the chair as his hands clasped loosely over his stomach. "I never took you for a political buff, Arianna. It's not my fault the slum areas are being taxed outrageously while brothels like yours are getting off -- no pun intended -- practically scot free. That hardly seems fair." Propping a hip against the desk as she leaned against it, a finger jabbed at him almost accusingly. "You wouldn't know what the word fair meant if Webster himself told you the definition. But enough small talk. Why the hell are you here?"
The serene look on his face melted away like wax suddenly. The Bradley that had come into the club just a year ago was finally making himself known, it seemed. "What I want, Miss deBurgh, is for my father to not be dead and for you to be instead. But since that isn't happening -- the first part, that is -- I'll have to settle for being the big bad Wolf, here to blow your house down."
"Can the euphemisms. The last time you came here, as I recall, it wasn't exactly a social visit. I seriously doubt this is, as well." The memory of it all still caused her to flinch, and the sight of the pain in her eyes made him grin again. Bradley still thought that Orin was dusting away to bone in that shallow grave on the outskirts of town, and the pain she was feeling was because of that. "Really. It's been a year. Get over it all ready. By the way, your voice is sounding lovely these days," thrown in as an aside before his eyes leveled on her again. Pushing out of the chair, a predatory - lethargic - glide had him moving to stand in front of her. A hand lifted to brush the hair from her face, but she jerked back with a flinch. "Don't tell me you're still mourning that clown. I didn't know whores carried torches for their johns for so long... But that's in the past. I'm here to talk about the future."
The sudden shift in his voice made her tear her gaze away from the floor; a startled look leveled on him. Pushing past her -- and in the process, half throwing her against the desk's top and smiling at the sound of pain she made as her ribs protested -- he invited himself into her chair and promptly opened the drawer where she had shoved everything. "I know you're helping Frank." He held a hand up as she began to object. "Don't bother lying. I have eyes, and ears. I've seen you at City Hall, and what reason does some two bit whore have with the Mayor?" He paused and glanced up to her. "Besides that, anyway. I'm not stupid. What I am, dear Ari, is annoyed. You're like some annoying insect that keeps popping up at the most inopportune times."
"Well, I'm so sorry that my life causes you such stress, Bradley." There was a quiver of fear tainting the words, and both of them knew it. "Ah, don't worry about it. I can't kill you, right now, because of the race and all. So I figure. If you can't kill them, control them." He began idly shifting through the papers, reading whichever one seemed to strike his fancy. Again, Ari reached to take them from his hand, but as time as she got into range, an unmerciful grip was taken of her wrist. Jerking it back, he stood abruptly and began backing her towards the nearest wall. With her arm bent at such an unnatural angle, the only thing she could do was go where she was pushed, and try not to cry. Getting the thought to scream, she opened her mouth to do so, only to have him place a finger over her lips with his free hand.
"If you scream, I'll kill who ever comes in here, and then have the men I brought -- whom I've left downstairs -- kill everyone else and then burn this place to the ground. With you in it. So shut the fuck up and listen to what I have to say, because I'm only going to say it once." Shoving her against the wall, he released her wrist long enough to watch her thud into the thing, before inviting himself to stand almost on top of her; pinning her to said wall in the mean time. "That little friend of yours.. Marie? I think her name is. She's made a certain person veeeery, very upset. And Thomas, the poor guy. Forgetting to send in the tax money on your house. Or.. rather.. he sent it, but it just didn't seem to make it to the auditor's office in time." A cold smile then. Fingers lifted to trail lightly down the side of her face; a short laugh sounding as her head jerked away from the touch. "Mother's made such nice additions to the place."
Fingers suddenly gripped her chin tightly as he rammed her head against the wall. "Don't speak," said as she began to, "Back to what I was saying. About the if you can't kill them, control them part? I meant what I said. I want you by my side. During the campaign, afterwards in my home, and until I decide I don't want you anymore...." A hand pushed inside of her jacket roughly and began fiddling with the buttons of her blouse. Her eyes widened with disgust, anger, and fear; her body twisting as if trying to get rid of his fingers. "From what I understand, you've been seeing no one else, so it's not like I have to kill them in order of persuading you. But there's your friends.... your workers... that little theatre over on Vine. I'll take every single one of them and reduce them to rubble if I have to, in order to make you .. see my side of things."
The fingers on her blouse jerked then, causing the buttons to scatter on the floor beneath them as her jacket was shoved to follow suit. Whimpers induced by fright were starting to escape from her throat, and the plea for him to just leave her alone was more than evident in her eyes. "All you have to say," he whispered quietly as his head dropped near her ear; his chin rubbing along the side of her jaw slowly as his own eyes half shut, "to make this stop, is yes. I'll leave them alone. I'll leave this place alone. I'll leave everything alone.. but you. You don't want Tony to get Marie do you? You don't want Tom, his wife, and those two lovely children of his to end up at the bottom of a lake do you? I will kill them, Frank, that Christabelle whore that you made manager.. everybody.. and I'll do it in front of you. And when I'm done with them, you'll be last, and trust me. The pain of watching them die will be nothing in compare to what I have in store for you. Just say yes."
He pulled back abruptly, fingers locking on her shoulders as he held her in place even more firmly. A shake was given when she didn't reply immediately, but he could tell by her demeanor what the answer would be. Her eyes had gone blank, and her whole body seemed be .. blanketed in dread. In acceptance. No matter what she did -- no matter how she tried to change things -- this would always be how things went. Everyone had a price, it seemed, and he had just named hers. Her thoughts shifted to Orin then. To what had happened when he thought she was never coming back again. It felt like someone was shoving a knife into her heart, and twisting it 'round and 'round until nothing was left but shattered pieces. Bradley didn't know he was alive, and suddenly that was the best thing in the world. But how was she going to get the news to him about what was going on?
"Yes," she said suddenly, eyes shifting to settle on the point just over Brad's shoulder. There .. just wasn't any way around it. If she didn't reply the way he wanted her to, right then, everyone was dead. She'd done this before, hadn't she? Said yes to someone, and didn't really mean it. What it came down to -- in a sense -- was that she'd take the brunt of everything, to save everyone else. Did that make her martyr? Or just stupid? Ari was going with the latter on this one. The look on his face changed then, and all traces of ugliness subsided. "Good, then.. I'm glad to hear it," as if he had just asked how the weather was, and she had answered in a way that pleased him. Releasing her, he took a step back and adjusted his jacket. At the same time, Ari was trying to piece together the front of her shirt and not break down into tears.
Pete. She'd find a way to get to Pete, so he could get a message to Orin. It was only by the grace of God that Bradley hadn't seen the ring on her left hand, and as he turned to head back towards her desk, it was taken off and shoved into her pocket before he had the chance to catch wind of what she was doing. "I'll just get what I need from here, and we'll be on our way." His voice broke through her thoughts then, and a startled look was leveled on him. "Wha--what?" Blankly, she surveyed as he began gathering up papers and shoving them into their respective folders. He looked to her in return surprise, and then smiled that slow, lazy, sensual smile of his. "Why, I'm taking you home to meet Mother, is what. Change your shirt, hm?"
-
[ Modified Log ]
Mind Lot: There are people who are extraordinary because of their circumstances. However, there are those that are so in spite of such, and Twist was one of them. Human he was, but not the aging kind, nor the dying kind. He wasn't quite cursed, nor especially blessed, either. Not quite good, nor quite evil - not black, nor white, nor even shades of gray. He wasn't, but he was, and he was such a contradiction.. he really shouldn't exist. But he did. And so, he was who he was, and he was here, and here was wherever he was. Of course, that was rather a mouthful, and it made his brain hurt to ponder on it too long, so instead of pondering, he kept wandering, which led him to and through the doors of Broken Glass. Quite un extraordinary, really, except for perhaps the extra cynicism in his smile, or the quirk of wicked in his smirk. He answer to neither power, good nor evil, which made him a loose gun in a room full of desperate men. But, he was a gun with a faulty trigger, and you never knew when nor where he would fire. Wee. Jostling his way to the bar, he tapped a fellow on the shoulder and whispered a few short sentences in his ear, pointing at a gent exiting. A look of disgust and mild anger replaced the blank look as the man had listened, and he followed, leaving the bar stool vacant until Twist sat in it. Ha.
Abject Illusion: Leslie watched all who entered and exited from the corner of his eye, trying his best to stay involved with his conversation with Marie. They were making idle chatter, really, aside from the event with Tony breaking in the other night. The whole thing had him bothered, so he wasn't drinking much tonight, and his hand was resting not far from the concealed pistol on that custom holster at the small of his back. His choice of black wool two piece suit hid the gun well enough...so long as his jacket was on. He certainly looked the part of guard, slick black suit, recently cropped and groomed hair, tied into that familiar tail at the base of his neck with a short length of leather. Though the whole of the Broken Glass was calm and comfortable...he knew it was just too comfortable. Waiting was what killed him, really. He wished this Tony fellow would show himself so Leslie could plant a hot lead pellet between his eyes. At least then he'd have accomplished something for not only Marie, but his employer's sake. The conversation between he and Marie continued on, though, as if nothing were on his mind. "...So the bastard gathers the bollocks and pulls his gun on me...A full clip and an unlicensed doctor's visit later, I was out of New York..."
IsNothingSacred: She was all professional looking tonight; white blouse, long black skirt that tapered around her ankles, and black, strappy heels, much too high and much too dangerous to walk in, which is why she was sitting now. Her hair was piled neatly on top of her head, and lips were painted a dark red to match her mood. Dipping a finger into the scotch and water before her, she swirled the contents around while listening to Les tell those stories; how the man was still alive was beyond her. Tapping the pack of cigarettes against her palm, one slid free and was brought to her mouth as she gave a glance around the place, then looked back to him again. He could tell she was as nervous as hell, and his story telling was a means of keeping the mood light and easy. Relaxing. That there were guards posted throughout the club should have, in itself, been calming enough, but it wasn't. "I don't think I've ever met a man who's been shot more times than you, and lived to talk about it, Les." She..won't bring up the fatal foot shooting again, promise. "You must have nine lives." She felt bad that Arianna had stuck him on her as a guard, clearly he didn't really want the job, but it made her feel a whole helluva lot safer. Know that.
Lessons Iearned: There were an overabundance of reasons of why she didn't want to be here tonight. The first and foremost one was the 'gentleman' steering her through the foyer by her elbow. Earlier -- back at the Thibodeaux estate -- he had sent someone in to help her dress, all the while informing her that they were going out. Yippee skippee and c'mon, shoot me now were the first two responses that came to mind, but instead of voicing them, Ari had merely nodded and went about putting on the clothes ( and she used that term loosely ) he had chosen. Only when his car had turned towards b.g.i. did she start panicking. That panic was growing as they walked towards the bar area. "Stop dragging your feet all ready," was hissed down her way as he gave her arm a final tug; more or less shoving her into the room ahead of him. Barely catching herself from falling on those ridiculously high heels, a smile was forced to her lips as she nodded his way. Second nature had her going for the counter and asking Larry for a cigarette while she tried to pull down the brief amount of fabric that constituted as her skirt. Brad lollygagged behind to shake hands and greet some of the people that were apparently on his side to win the election against Frank.
Mind Lot: Hazel hues skipped over the general attendance, looking for a innocent to have a bit of fun with, when the atmosphere around the place sauntered right up and slapped him across the face. One eye slid shut in a blink, opening just as the other followed suit and a crooked grin inched its way over his lips like a zipper closing. Trouble was ah brewing - typical, of course, trouble was always brewing - but he couldn't always be where it was bubbling the hottest. He appreciated the times he was. Well versed in matters of interfering, he waited, and when you looked at him in pieces, he was the picture of a decent citizen. Though, pieced all together, something didn't add up. Like clippings from old pictures used to make one whole.. each piece was genuine, but put there by an errant hand. Disconcerting was an understatement - but then, he rarely got the whole appraisal. As aforementioned, he wasn't that remarkable.
Abject Illusion: Ah...here he was, the owner and proprietor of the Broken Glass herself. He smiled as Ai sidled up to the bar, giving her a polite nod and raise of hand in half wave. Jade orbs soon made note though, of her dismal mood...and then glanced to that fellow coming up beside her, acting as though he were engaged to her. What in the bloody blue hell? He motioned for Marie to take a look at what he was seeing. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but that is that sleazy little slushfund fiend Thibodeaux hanging off of Ari there?" His tone was both irritated and incredulous, as if he could not believe some vote grabbing republican(republicans not seating well in his mind) was moving in on his all too obviously uninterested boss.
IsNothingSacred: Her back was to the door so she missed the part of Bradley shoving Arianna into the room, and thank God for that, because she would have been off that stool in two seconds flat, and all over Brad like the stink to shit. Giving Les a confused look, she turned some, and both eyes widened to the size of saucers, and her mouth formed a very round "O" shape. Lips soon tightened into a thin, straight line, however, and she pushed up to stand. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what the hell--" Eyes slid to and focused on Arianna's features, mainly the girl's eyes, which spoke in large volumes to Marie. "Leslie, I want your gun, and I want it now," she murmured, low enough so only he heard. Then she took a forward step.
Lessons Iearned: Shaky hands accepted the cigarette as a rather wide eyed Larry handed one over, and though it took three or four times to get the match to the tip of it, said cigarette was lit and inhaled on in short order. Bradley's voice could be heard in the farthest out-reaches of outer-space, and to hear him so happily piling on the bullshit about how good he'd be for New Orleans made her grind her eyes shut. Due in part to that, Leslie's wave went unnoticed. She wasn't focusing all that well at the moment, and before she could turn to see who else was in the room, he was calling over for her. "Arianna, love, bring me a bourbon.?" Even though it was veiled as a question, it pretty much meant 'get your ass over here with a drink before I shoot you.' "Yes, master," bit off under her breath as poor Larry was put back to work getting the drink. With the glass in hand, she pushed away from the bar and turned to head towards him, when she caught sight of Marie and Leslie. A weak smile was offered before her chin tucked down towards her chest, and it was off to Bastard Zone she went.
Mind Lot: He would have sniggered, but that would have given him away. Standing, he planned his path to intercede with Arianna's as he waded through the cloud of lies that the man (Brad) seemed to puff about him. Elbowing his way through he waited until she was near enough to the man to trip in the proper direction, and, when she was, he provided the road blocking in the form of a battered shoe. She wouldn't guess who tripped her, what with all the well wishers and boot lickers around, but he had more in mind than just bourbon spilled on a five hundred dollar suit.
Abject Illusion: "Easy, lovely..."a hand gently placed on her shoulder, "..can't go firing off in a crowded room. But I wouldn't be surprised to find out if there was somethin' a little more insidious than good public appearance behind all this..." He nodded in return to Ari, trying his best not to do just what he said was not a good idea. "I think it best to sit back and observe for the time being. Lord knows there's something behind this...why in God's name would Ari be bringin' the arrogant little ponce a drink for? Anybody asked her for a drink, she'd tell 'em to get it them damned selves..." His head shook slowly. "Marie, I donnae like the looks of this at all..." He tapped on the bar for Larry to bring him the usual glass of whiskey around...maybe a drink would help to keep him from leaping off that stool and to Ari's defense as well.
IsNothingSacred: Her shoulder lifted stiffly, then lowered, and trembling hands made small fists at either side of her now tense form, but she stayed for now. Leslie was right, obviously, but she wanted nothing more than to shove the muzzle of his gun into Bradley's mouth and pull the trigger several times. Perhaps Arianna didn't see who tripped her, but Marie thought she may have. Against his warning, she slid forward and started maneuvering around the bodies that surrounded them all, heading toward Aries. Rule number one: Listen to what your fucking bodyguard says at all times. Reason was displaced when everything started happening so fast, however. She didn't glance back either, because that would give away exactly who Les was, right? Or..was that not painfully obvious?
Lessons Iearned: Nobody could ever say that Arianna paid attention to her surroundings. Quite the contrary. Focusing her attention on the drink in her hand, she dodged around who ever was in her way to make it over towards where Bradley was. She saw the foot that had been stuck out in her path, but only then it was too late to pause. The foot, coupled with her four inch stilettos, could only mean one thing. That drink she was carrying flew out of her hand as she fell forward, and it was only by the grace of God that she caught herself on the man standing next to Brad. The bourbon, however, splashed directly across Brad's face and down his suit; leaving him to look like a rather wet, bedraggled pissed off cat. "Goddamn it," bit off as he swiped a hand down his face, his free hand going out to grab Ari around the upper portion of her arm and yank her over. "You can't even buy a good woman these days." Of course, everyone around him knew what that meant, and that's when the laughter started. All Ari could do was fall heavily against Brad's side at the jerk to her arm and try not to look like she wanted to vanish through the floor. Asshole Extraordinaire went about wiping his face off with a handkerchief pulled out of his inner coat pocket.
Abject Illusion: Aw shit...He knew Marie wasn't exactly the most intimidating form on the face of the earth, but heaven forbid he should ever get her angry, he didn't much feel like getting in front of that maelstrom. No thank you. He sighed and hopped off the seat after her, letting Larry know to put that drink on the rocks and to keep it ready for him. This wasn't going to be pretty, even if he got to her before she got to Bradley..or whoever it was that had tripped Ari. As he neared though, he caught wind of Bradley's little comment about Arianna's spill. Now, most people who knew Les knew that he was a pretty chivalrous fellow...and that didn't just cross the line for him, it crossed it and then had the nerve to turn around and spit on it. Ooh, if it weren't for his status, that little worm would be looking at the ceiling, wondering why in God's name his nose hurt so badly...
IsNothingSacred: She reached out to grab the shoulder of the man who'd tripped Arianna, but the bastard jerked himself away and was at the doors in no time flat. Spinning around, she smacked right into Leslie's chest, palms came up and she pushed at him, none too lightly, then moved to where Bradley and Arianna now were. "It was an accident, and I'm taking her to get cleaned up. You can handle yourself on your own, I'm sure. Or..maybe one of your lackey's here can help?" That little comment did not go over well with his hired hands, not at all. She reached for Arianna's wrist and held on, tightly. Be smart, Marie, say what he wants to hear. Now. "I'll have her back to you in a moment. Come on, Arianna, let's clean that..nice..dress." And, an apologetic look was shot to Leslie for the push, she hadn't even realized what she was doing.
Lessons Iearned: A few of the men in Bradley's little group had .. visited Arianna back when she was on the marquee for entertainment, so his comment struck them as highly funny. Ari's face -- just for the record -- was almost as red as Marie's lipstick, and oddly enough, it wasn't out of anger. Mortification, yes. When Marie suddenly showed up and grabbed her other wrist, both she and Bradley looked to the woman incredulously. Brad had that 'who the hell are you?' look and Ari had that 'get the hell out of here' look. Then the comments.. She started shaking again. "Of course you can take her to get cleaned up," offered graciously through clenched teeth as he smiled charmingly to Marie, before glancing down to Ari, "I'm not holding her prisoner, now am I, Arianna?" Ari shook her head no and tried to smile but.. fuck it. Not saying anything else, she let Marie lead her back over towards the bar -- and odd enough, yet just didn't say anything. Anything at all.
Abject Illusion: Let's not forget...Leslie was a good solid 7' tall...and though she pushed him pretty solidly, it only had force enough to give him pause. He knew not to pursue much farther, and so hung back, keeping an eagle's eye on the situation. As Marie took Ari aside, he slipped out of the crowd, letting them shake hands and speak with the prick as they would. He came up beside the both of them, grabbing, and quickly downing the drink Larry saved for him...it was going to be a long night. He sighed, handing a few napkins over and just keeping quiet for now, lest their words were being monitored, he knew Thibodeaux had guards of his own, he just wasn't able to place them all. Christ... I feckin' hate politics...
IsNothingSacred: Holy CRIPES, that's one tall mo' fo'. So, it was more of..she skittered around the man to get to Arianna. Leading Ari now, she glanced to Bradley and smiled, "That's right. You're not. Remember that." Her smooth tone had the man stiffening to that of stone. Taking the napkins from Les, she started to pat at Arianna's dress, keeping her voice low and steady. "I don't know what he has over you, but I swear to God Aries, if it's me, I'm outta here. Tonight." She could pack all her belongings into one suitcase in ten minutes flat. And running...running was what she knew best, right? "How long do I have to figure this shit out, Ari? How long until he--" Fuck, she couldn't even say it out loud. "You do what he says, and don't talk back. We'll have you away from him, I promise. Hear?" She was literally squeezing the girl's wrists now..and she had to make good on her word of walking Arianna back over to him.
Lessons Iearned: Standing back as the two women walked off, Bradley pretended to be listening to what the people around him were saying, while the whole time he kept his eyes on them. The lovely Marie, he presumed. The thought made him smile a little, before his attention turned to the one calling for his attention. He'd let that bitch have her alone time with her friend. That was all good and fine; she knew who she was going home with and who she had to answer to. Zombie - like, Ari watched Marie pat at her dress. "It's not you," she said suddenly, her own voice at a whisper. Brad had more guards in here than what bgi had hired. And that was a lot. "It's... everything." She even laughed a little at that; Marie was going to think she had lost her mind. Maybe she had; it was time for that well deserved mental break down. "Just.. do me a favor, Marie. Please." Ari -never- said please, so that should grab Mars Bar's attention.
Abject Illusion: He didn't like the look in Ari's eyes. He'd never seen that look before. It was one of unsure tension...like she was terrified of something just out of the corner of her vision. That, more than anything, bothered him. He'd never since meeting her seen her nervous about anything. She always carried an air of sarcastic aloofness that shielded her from the outside world. And now, looking at her and listening to the way she was speaking -- It just sent a chill up his spine. He glanced back over his shoulder to Bradley and sneered inwardly...oy...when was that pompus little shit going to leave?!
IsNothingSacred: She stopped, completely, and looked at Arianna ...like they were again ten years old. She felt little and frail, like she was being instructed and protected when it should be the other way around. "Yes." Simple as that. Arianna didn't even have to elaborate, and the promise was given wholeheartedly. "I know. And yes." Don't react. Don't interfere. Stay away from Bradley. How long she could keep that promise wasn't known, even by her. Leslie was antsy, and that was felt through and through.
Lessons Iearned: Don't interfere and stay away from him was only the beginning of it. Blinking suddenly, she glanced over her shoulder to watch Brad settle himself at one of the tables near the dance floor. His attention -- for the moment -- was on the circle of people that were hanging on to his every word. Gaze jerked back to Marie, then. "If he comes here while I'm not here.. run." Not hide, not lock your door.. run. "Find the quickest way, and get out." Glancing over her shoulder again to make sure he wasn't watching, her hand went into the pocket of her dress to extract something, and it was pressed into Marie's hand quickly. "Dead men can't speak.. never say otherwise." A riddle perhaps, but Marie had been around the 'undead' long enough to know what the remark meant. Not one.. single.. word about Orin. "Give this to him for me," said as she continued watching Bradley. She had that sort of deer in the Lessons Iearned: head lights look.
Abject Illusion: His eyes were darting around the room like a fly on cocaine. He was watching everyone with just a little too much suspicion, and his hand was itching for the cool familiarity of that pistol strapped to his back. He cracked his neck idly, glancing down to Marie and Ari again, deciding not to get into what was handed off. He did lean down though, and whisper softly into Arianna's ear. "I don't mean to rush you...but Bradley's looking rather annoyed sitting all alone...and from my take on all this, the last thing we want is to upet good Mr. Thibodeaux, eh? Come on...I'll walk you over...make sure nobody trips you, huh?" the last was said with a faint smile, trying to put a bit of light humor on the grim situation that was unfolding here.
IsNothingSacred: She paled. All the colour drained from her face as the ring was pressed against her palm. Closing her eyes, she knew exactly what it was without even looking, and it wasn't that it was just a ring; it was Orin's. Thank God Leslie came for Arianna, because as he led her away, the tears poured down her cheeks and chin and quickly dropped to absorb in the material of her blouse. Keeping her back to them all, she reached for a cigarette and leaned as Larry brought a flame to life. He slid a napkin forward and knew well enough to not say a thing, instead, he placed a fresh drink before her. Good man, the world needed more like him.
Lessons Iearned: The look on Ari's face with Leslie's comment sort of resembled one a child had when their mum said it was time for school. Or when that same mum said it was time to go to the dentist or something. More or less please don't make me. Nodding instead, though, she turned away from Marie and started walking over towards where Brad was sitting, keeping her pace slow to match with Leslie's. The only thing she had to keep in mind; he'd kill them all. And in kill, he meant in the worst, most painful way possible. To the public, he was all smiles and fun, but Ari knew what he could do. She'd been rubbed -- face down -- in the blood of what he could do. "Make sure she's safe, Leslie," whispered up his way.
Abject Illusion: Her comment was taken in stride, along with another soft grin. As he let her off his arm he leant in again to whisper in return. "I'd rather be tortured than to see harm come to either of you..." He gave her shoulder a light touch before turning away to return to Marie's side. He'd not noticed the tears when he'd taken Ari off, and she'd since wiped them form her face, still, he could tell something was very wrong. Oh this was not good...there was something much bigger going on than what he knew, and all he could do for now...that's right ... wait. Just wait, play protector a little longer and keep his eyes peeled. He gently placed his hand on Marie's shoulder, only a moment's contact, a way of letting her know there was at least some form of comfort nearby. He'd promised not to make advances, and hadn't only offered himself as a protector. A shield. But people still found comfort behind shields now and again.
IsNothingSacred: Fingering the ring, she flipped it through her fingers repeatedly until it was slid onto her middle where it would be kept, safe. Fingertips slid against her forehead as she leaned on the bar and glanced over to him. "You should get some rest, it's late." Marie wasn't foolish enough to think that a comforting touch meant anything more than just that; nothing was assumed, though the gesture was greatly appreciated. Smashing the butt of her cigarette into the ashtray, she down her drink then reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you." Inhale. Straightening, she leaned back to look over at Bradley and Arianna, shooting one of his goons a look as he stared over.
Lessons Iearned: It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to be careful what he wished for, but Bradley was there to meet the two. Sliding an arm through Ari's, his fingers pinched tightly onto the lower part of her arm as he watched Leslie walk back to Marie. A slight smile appeared then, but it faded off quickly. Interesting. "Have a nice talk?" asked rhetorically as he began pulling her towards the bar. It didn't matter that she didn't answer; he'd find out later. Stopping just behind Marie, he gently tapped the woman on the shoulder. Though he still had Ari's arm in a death grip, she hung back a little. "Thank you for taking care of Arianna for me. She's such a child sometimes." He paused then and looked down to Marie, "Be careful out there. You never know when there's some bad man waiting to rape and kill you or something." With another charming smile, he inclined his head respectfully and headed for the door. Ari, of course, was yanked out with him.
<font color="#95542E" size="1">[ May 30, 2006 02:09 AM: Message edited by: vintage faith ]</font>
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The ride back to his home was a quiet one to begin with. The only sound was of their breathing, and the sound of the rain starting to patter against the windshield outside as dark clouds began rolling over the city. She had burrowed herself as close to the door as she could possibly manage away from Bradley, as he reclined comfortably in his seat. Shifting his shoulders, a hand fell to rest on her thigh before he glanced her way. "You're awfully quiet. Something bothering you?" A smirk to himself with the question. The look he received from her was what he expected, and Bradley couldn't suppress a chuckle. Glancing down to his suit, his free hand came over to brush at the still damp fabric even as the fingers on her thigh began moving upwards a slight. "Do you know how much this jacket cost?" he asked quietly, as if that was the most important question in the world and she better know the answer. Ari's only response was a head shake that he didn't see, and his gaze quickly cut to her. "I asked you a question, whore. I expect an answer when I do so, understand?" The fingers that were inching their way into her skirt stopped suddenly as he dug his nails into the soft flesh, causing her to cry out before biting on her lower lip to stifle the noise. "N-n..no, I don't," she finally stammered out, eyes only drifting towards him when his grip didn't lessen.
"It cost more than what you'd make in a night lying on your back, that's how much," he continued on in that quiet voice of his; the fabric of his trousers making a faint rustling noise as he moved closer to her. "And you better hope the stain and smell come out, or I'm taking it out of you. Understand?" Nails released their hold on her thigh, only to begin running lightly up and down the flesh again as he watched her face. Striving to keep her expression blank, the panic in her voice gave away the emotions she was experiencing. "I understand." She sounded.. frightened, disgusted, and subjected all at the same time, and it caused him to laugh. "Now tell me, what were you and your friend talking about while I was busy, hm? Anything important?" While waiting for her to answer, his head dipped down until it was almost resting against her shoulder; warm breath purling against the chilled flesh of her neck before his tongue darted out. "Tilt your head," was bit out harshly, the hand on her thigh finally making it past the barrier of her skirt to inch towards her garter.
"Just business .. is all, nothing impor--please don't.." Making no move to move her head as ordered, Ari mustered up the resolve to place her hand over the top of her skirt where his hand was in hopes of stilling the motion. She felt sick to her stomach at what was going on, and the pain in her heart was almost staggering. She wanted to look down and see Orin staring back at her, making this all a dream .. but when her gaze averted down, Bradley's mocking face came into view. The hand over his was brushed away carelessly as he used his nose and cheek to make her head tilt like he wanted it. Teeth clamped down lightly on the skin of her neck, though he wasn't trying to make it painful. Yet. With a quick movement, he turned her so that she was beneath him on the seat; his lower body used to pin her in place. The chauffeur didn't even glance over his shoulder to see what was going on. He was paid to drive; nothing else.
Her ribs protested the sudden shifting, and she couldn't stop from crying out again as a burning pain ripped all the way from her chest, around to her back. "Please, stop..." asked again in a high pitched, pain filled voice as her hands lifted to press against his chest. His hand had left her thigh during the turn, and was now working it's way into the thick mane of hair at the nape of her neck. "...it hurts.. get up..." Hands that were shoving against his chest were stopped suddenly as he wrenched her head back; the twist causing her body to turn at an angle which again upset the placement of her ribs. Her crying turned into full fledged screams then, and his mouth dropped to cover her own to stifle the sounds. Gagging from the pressure of his intruding tongue, all Ari could do was lay as still as possible beneath him and pray that he'd make it quick, while tears dripped off of her chin to splatter against the seat below.
As quickly as he had covered her mouth, he pulled back; looking down on her through eyes hazed over with hate, greed, and lust. There was also the frightening glint of insanity there as well. His voice didn't even sound like his own as he began whispering into her ear as his head dropped back to her shoulder. "It's your fault, you know," he began almost pleadingly; as if begging her to understand his reasoning for things he'd done and would be doing. "I want to hate you so much that I can kill you, but I can't. You make me do this..." The word 'this' was punctuated with him grasping the edge of her skirt and pulling it down in a ripping motion. "You make me do it, and I hate you.. I hate you and I want you at the same time. It's STUPID." Pulling back from her suddenly, his fingers curled around her throat as he pinned her to the seat; eyes sweeping over her now half unclothed form without remorse or regret. "Why didn't you just die last year, huh?" His grasp on control was fading as his grasp on her neck tightened, and she started choking as her air was cut off. Hands began beating weakly against his, but that only seemed to fuel him further. "If you would've just fucking died with that clown fuck, none of this would be happening. NONE OF IT!"
The sound of the chauffeur clearing his throat abruptly caused Bradley to sit up, the grasp on Ari's neck broken as his eyes averted to the driver. She rolled over onto her side -- hands crossing over her throat as she began coughing and wheezing, trying to inhale as much oxygen as humanly possible -- and began crying so hard that her shoulders shook. One of her hands dropped from her neck to try and cover what she could have her lower body with the torn skirt; trying to hide from the chauffeur's prying eyes. "Very well then," was all Brad said before he pushed open his door. One of Ari's legs was grabbed and he yanked her bodily out of the vehicle; icy blues staring blankly down at her as she crumpled to the ground. "For God sakes, stop that incessant fucking blubbering and get up," spat down her way before he used her hair to pull her up to her feet. With a shove, she was directed to the front door of his estate, and she nearly fell down onto the ground as one of her heels hit a slippery rock.
"You take the most simplest things and make them complicated. I would say you're stupid, but that can't be it." Carrying on conversationally as he walked up to her, her hair was once again used as a leash as he tugged her through the doorway, and then down the hall towards his room. Reaching up to grab the hand holding her hair, all she could was half run - half trip behind him.. and cry. "I ask you to shut up, you don't. I ask you to walk, you fall. Is there something in that brain of yours that makes you do the exact opposite of what I say?" Stopping in front of the door, he shot a look down to her with the question. When she didn't reply immediately, his free hand jerked upwards suddenly as he backhanded her across the face. "I asked you a question, you stupid bitch."
Crying out for the umpteenth time that night, the blow caused her to fall to her knees -- even with the grip he had on her hair -- and the sound echoed off of the walls, as if taunting her. There was pain in her chest, sides, head, and face, and from the look on Brad's face, this was only the beginning. While she screamed, the look on his face could only be described as rapturous, and his eyes closed as if he were savoring the sound. Without another word or motion towards her, he opened the door and walked in, leaving her outside to try and get to her feet. Her movements were sluggish at best, and when she began to follow him inside, there was a definitive limp in her stride. His Majesty had taken it upon himself to sprawl on the bed, hands tucking behind his head as he watched her. "Undress." The single word had her pausing, and she cast a glance over her shoulder as if looking for someone to save her from this.
For the moment, though, it seemed that she could just keep looking on. There was no one there to save her from Bradley's degradation, and with a weary sigh, the bedroom door was shut quietly. She'd rather no one be able to see inside if she were to be subjected to this perverse form of torture. Being that her skirt was held together by little more than a stitch, it was ripped the rest of the way off before she turned to walk over towards the dresser. "No, I don't mean find something else to wear. I mean undress." He paused long enough to shift his position so that he was facing her. "Now. Oh, and leave the heels on." His grin was nothing short of lascivious. Swiping the heel of her palm over her cheeks to rid the tear tracks, she risked a glance his way -- and even shocking yet -- risked his wrath by asking a question. "Do you mind if I have a drink first?" This... this she was used to. Arianna might not have done it in a while, but it was like riding a bicycle. To her surprise, he offered a short nod at her request. The brandy decanter on the dresser was reached for almost greedily. Pulling out the crystal stopper, it was left to the side as she filled one of the squat glasses to the rim with the amber liquid. That was consumed in a matter of moments, and she hurriedly poured herself another, which was tossed back in the same way.
The warm bloom of alcohol hitting her stomach began spreading through her body, and it was only then did she turn his way. If .. this was to be done, it was better if she knew she'd be drunk soon. Brandy was made to be sipped, not gulped, and two glasses would hopefully soon put her to sleep. Finger slowly began undoing the button that held her jacket together; the material shrugged off of her shoulders. Eyes were kept on the far wall as she did this. If she had to see his eyes... That thought was best left unfinished. The blouse beneath was soon dismissed in the same fashion. Clad in nothing more than her corset, garter, heels, and knickers, it wasn't until she heard a sound from the bed did she risk a glance to him. His eyes were half closed as he watched her; one hand sliding from behind his stomach to rest lightly on the bed beside him. A pat was given to the coverlet, indicating that she come over. With a hand pressing to her ribs, she did as silently ordered, though the still pronounced limp in her gait couldn't be hidden. "I'm sorry," he whispered when she settled onto the bed in a rigid perch, a hand snaking over to run over the portion of her leg where the stocking stopped. Her whole body was shaking with suppressed sobs, and all she could offer to the apology was a short nod. Instead of reaming her for the gesture, he sat up and slid his arms beneath her body so that he could heft her over into his lap. Like an overgrown doll that he could pick up and situate in whatever position he wanted.
His lips slid slowly over the hollow of her throat as he dropped his head down; fingers making lazy circles against the skin of her exposed lower back. In his mind, she was responding. In his mind.. she wanted him as much as he wanted her. In his mind, each and every action was justified. Then again, it seemed that his mind was a void place filled with nothing but hate and destruction towards everything that he thought had done him wrong. He mistook her shaking in fear as .. want, and with that thought in mind, his mouth dropped to run lightly over the tops of her breasts. A finger hooking into the side of the corset, Bradley was well on his way to sliding the material out of his way when a knock sounded on the door. Ari -- who had remained fearfully quiet and rigid throughout this whole ordeal -- nearly wept in relief at the sound, even as Bradley bit off several curses beneath his breath at the interruption. "Who the fuck is it?" called out gruffly as he threw her down onto the bed; a shift given to the front of his trousers to situate himself before he pushed to his feet and walked to the door. "It's the Sandman, asshole. Open the fucking door." Tony's voice filtered through the wood, causing Brad to laugh and Ari to start crying again.
She had forgotten. How in the hell could she have forgotten? Bradley and Tony were partners... Oh God, oh God, don't let them both .. please.. don't let them both.. The litany of words were repeated in her head over and over again as the door was opened to reveal the darkly handsome yet sadistic features of Tony. Glancing over Bradley's shoulders, Morcelli loosed a whistle at the sight of her on the bed, and gave Brad a box on the shoulder. "Interrupting play time? My bad." The man seemed in unusually chipper spirits, she noticed immediately ( she was quick like that sometimes ) and instinctively, she reached over to pull the coverlet over her form so as to hide it from his eyes. "Yes, actually," Brad started off in a less than amused tone, ".. you were. What the hell's going on?" Sighing as Tony made himself comfortable in the room, the door was shut before he moved back over to the bed and sank down beside her. The blanket was thrown out of the way with ease as he rested a hand on the curve of her hip almost possessively. Tony's eyes narrowed at the sight, but he was a happy man at the moment. Even that little asshole's blatant claim of Ari didn't deter him.
"Well, that stupid mick down at the club.. I don't think you'll have to worry about him anymore. Damned if it isn't bad when you can't even walk down the street without someone knocking you unconscious and then torturing you within an inch of your life. Oh, Arianna," breaking off from his gleeful words, his eyes narrowed mockingly on her, "I'll tell Marie you said hello when I see her next." A rather wide grin then. "It's going to be soon you know. Hey! Maybe we can even double date." Both he and Bradley chuckled at that, even as she looked between the two of them in wide eyed terror. "Marie's a cheap date, I can tell you. Plus, how much can either of you eat if you're dead?"
The only thing Arianna heard after that was the sound of their derisive laughing as she slumped over in a dead faint induced by stress, the brandy, and the shock of knowing that the two men she feared the most .. were in the same room. Orin, was the last thought in her mind before the inky blackness came to claim her, and almost thankfully, she succumbed.
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[ Modified Log ]
Abject Illusion: Being tossed through the air wasn't exactly something someone of Leslie's stature was used to, and luckily, in his current state of searing, blinding pain, he didn't really notice the odd angle his leg had folded into when hitting the stone steps out front. He would have called out for help as the black sedan pulled away down the street, but his jaw had been effectively loosed from the upper portion of his skull, so he was only capable of sickly gurgles and moans, sounding much the part of a man on his last few breaths. His chest heaved and shuddered for breath, bruised and fractured ribs making even the simplest of actions impossible. Tears and blood streamed in thick rivulet down either side of his dirtied, near unrecognizable face. His left eye was swollen shut, the other only swirled about in useless, blurry sight. He was a wreck, and though loathe to admit it, was praying for death as the front door opened. One of the guards, whose name he was unsure of had stepped out to investigate the noise coming from just outside the entrance, and in recognizing Leslie for his mode of dress alone, called for others to help carry him inside. It took three others to bring him inside, and another to help him up onto one of the tables. There were murmurs of disbelief, disgust, and horror all around him
...and he was dying...wonderful way to start off a night.
IsNothingSacred: In mid conversation she ceased with talking and pulled the cigarette from between her lips while pushing to the tips of her toes in an attempt to see the front doors over the heads of some rather tall men. What in God's great name was going on over there?! The guards were bringing some poor slob inside, who'd probably been caught in the middle of a bad situation. She turned back to the bar and reached for her drink, smiling at the women she was conversing with..until she heard the whispers. "Isn't he Marie's bodyguard?" "He's one of Arianna's men!" Her heart literally stopped it's beat and the cigarette was soon abandoned in the ashtray, as well as present company as she pushed her way through those gathered around Leslie. "Move. Move!" She shoved at someone's back and elbowed another out of the way until she'd managed to get closer. Visibly cringing at the sight, she inched forward while calling out for some bar cloths and water, and for someone to call the fucking doctor already. Leaning over him somewhat, she pushed blood encrusted tendrils away from his face, whispering hoarsely, "Leslie, what have you gone and done? Jesus.."
Lessons Iearned: Ari had never been as happy for a press conference to begin, as she was tonight. Due to her.. appearance, Bradley had given her leave to either stay behind at the estate or head to the club until he was finished. From what she understood, Leslie wasn't in the best of shapes, from the brief bit Tony had thrown at her the previous evening. Make-up had covered most of the bruising on her face; slacks and a long sleeve jacket covering the rest. Slamming the car door shut behind her as she exited, the sharp clack of her heels hitting the steps almost drowned out the pounding in her ears as she caught wind of the commotion inside. "Tom," called out as soon as she entered the bar, "get Dominga on the phone and then send someone for her. Larry," a look his way; he was all ready following Marie's orders. Speaking of Marie, she shoved as well -- through the tangle of bodies to get over to where the woman was, standing over Leslie. No words could describe the horror she felt, and all she could do was place a hand on Mars' shoulder to let her know she was there.
Abject Illusion: In a motion resembling a corpse returning to life, a bloody hand rose from the table, to his jaw. The tender flesh and ligaments there screamed in his mind at the contact. But he'd seen things this bad before...hell...he had the scars to prove it. What he did next caused a great jumping gasp of horror to rip through the surrounding bodies. His hand pulled away slowly from his battered face...then snapped back lightning quick, and with a thick, meaty pop! shoved his jaw back to its usual position. He seized up, muscles contracting in silent agony, followed by a groan drawn out of him like a piece of thread from a rag doll. Speech was perhaps one of the most arduous tasks he'd faced in some time...but managed slow, gurgled words. "Tony.....I'm......ki-...ll...h-..him..."
IsNothingSacred: Right about now, Marie was feeling very responsible for a lot of shit that was going down, and she could only imagine that Arianna felt quite the same. A trembling hand withdrew as the man performed such drastic measures to correct his jaw, and she winced and turned away for a moment, unable to even watch. Pulling a chair up, she sat in front of him, dipping the cloth into water and dabbing at his brow while trying to remain casual and calm. Yarrite. "Don't talk. This is way out of hand and I can't tell you how sorry I am--" she swallowed tightly and glanced to Arianna, then looked back at Leslie again. "This shit has to stop. All we have to do is give him what he wants, and it's over. It's that simple..." With all the yelling and panic going on, her whispered words were drowned out, though her mind raced with what she wanted to do next. It could be over tonight.
Lessons Iearned: Ari had the decency to avert her gaze when he went shoving his body parts back into socket. If the sight was half as icky as the sound, she was glad she'd done it. "Marie, you don't know what you're talking about," said in a half whisper as she ducked her head down towards the other woman, catching a glimpse of some of Brad's guards coming through the door. That meant that he wasn't far behind, and she wanted to talk to Marie before his Asshole-yness appeared. Tom rushed out the front door with a set of keys in his hand, dead set on getting the 'witch' doctor to tend to Leslie. Ari inhaled deeply and kneeled down beside the man's chair, a hand going to his knee. "This.. we can't stop it, no matter what we do, Marie. Leslie knows that, I know that, you should know that. It's a power trip, and they won't stop until everything's in flames." Still whispering.
Abject Illusion: "I...I...Think this...is it..." He was delirious. Well...not delirious, in shock...all the blood loss. He was suddenly feeling very bad for bleeding all over the nice table he'd been laid on. And regretted having worn one of his favorite suits to die in. It was a shame really. He'd always pictured himself going down in a blaze of glory, twin tommy guns...that sort of thing. And as his mind swam, he smiled blankly, people seemed to spin in and out of his line of vision. There were hands on him suddenly. Someone shouting the word "doctor" and "move away" quite a bit. Hm. He might not die tonight, which wasn't a bad thing. He did feel like exacting his revenge on Tony for what he'd done. His mind drifted to Marie then too. He felt bad again. He hated to worry her like this. As if she didn't have enough on her mind...Ari too. He was gumming up the works, just making them feel worse. He sighed inside his head, so strangely serene as the ether rag was gently laid over his mouth and nose; the doctor going quickly to work to quell his blood loss.
IsNothingSacred: She pushed the chair back and sat, legs spread, arms clasped before her, staring straight ahead as if she'd come to terms with her decision. Her pants and shirt were still spotless, somehow, and she pushed up when spotting Bradley and his goons coming through the front doors. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, from her lengthened strides to her watching the group walk her way as they wanted a glimpse of Leslie as well. "Where's Tony?" Brad stopped and held up a hand so his crew would stay put, his eyes shifted to the table, then moved to Arianna and quickly slid to Marie again, "Something going on here, Marie?" If Arianna was going to be submissive to this asshole, this was the perfect time. "You know what's going on, you idiot. Where. Is. Tony?" She was as in his face as she could be, which had him smiling broadly. "Ask your friend, bitch." She stared at him, then glanced over her shoulder. What the fuck was going on?!
Lessons Iearned: The doctor over Leslie was given a skeptical look as Ari pushed back up to her feet, a glance thrown over her shoulder to see if Tom had gotten back with Dominga yet when ... freeze. "Marie, do--" Ari was going to TIE that woman down one of these days. Straightening her shirt, a concealed limp-ridden gait took over towards where Marie was about to get slapped down, and she situated herself between the two. If someone was going to catch hell from Bradley, Ari'd rather it be her. "Marie, not now," was whispered the woman's way as Bradley glared at Marie over Ari's head. His smile never wavered, but it was that kind of smile.. you never wanted someone to direct towards you. "Charlie. Clear the room for me, eh?" A bustle of activity went up as all patrons were soon being steered towards the door. The only people left inside the bar; Arianna, Bradley, Marie, Leslie, and the quack working on him. "You know, Anthony could've went ahead and killed your little Mick, but he didn't. Shut the fuck up." Pushing Ari out of the way, he moved to stand directly in front of Marie and dropped a hand to her shoulder. An unmerciful squeeze given then. "Any more questions?"
Abject Illusion: Most all of Leslie's injuries consisted of major internal bruising. Tony hadn't meant to kill him. Only send a message. Leslie knew Tony wouldn't kill him...he was sick ...he wanted to play his game and get his rocks off doing it. As the doctor finished up his examination, he began getting Les to speak, if slowly. He reacted well enough, the one available pupil reacting well enough to light, suggesting a minor concussion. A prescription for painkillers was handed off quickly as the doctor was bustled out the door along with what few straggler's remained. His one good eye caught Bradley's sober form standing between Ari and Marie. Out of instinct, his hand reached for the holster at the small of his back. Empty. In the back of his mind, he knew it would be. But he'd always been a wishful thinker. He stepped down from the table as slowly as he could, testing his legs to see if they could indeed support him. He staggered well enough over to the remaining three, and collapsed into a bar stool. He looked up at Larry, who winced, just glancing at his face. "Whiskey....the bottle...and a cigarette..." He managed to gasp out. Larry brought both quickly, setting the open bottle down and even had the kindness to light the cig for the beaten Irishman. It figured, really...that at a time like this all he wanted was a drink...
IsNothingSacred: Bradley's fingers dug in deep under her collarbone, pushing hard enough that she yelped in surprise and pain. Jerking her shoulder back, she glared at the man before speaking, "Just tell him I'm ready." She didn't dare look at Arianna now, and she had enough gall to present her backside to Brad and walk away. Screw this, she's done. Game over. Worst case scenario, she could distract Tony long enough to give Leslie time to heal and Arianna time to get the fuck away from Bradley before Orin got to him. Moving to the bar, she pointed to a bottle and Larry glanced to Arianna before handing it over. "You stay in my room tonight Les. Give me ten minutes to get my shit."
Lessons Iearned: "She has guts, doesn't she?" asked of Ari as he grabbed her arm and yanked her back to his side. From the abuse of the guy throwing her down the stairs, and then what he had put her through last night, Ari couldn't help the scream of pain that escaped from her as her side hit him. It was quickly choked off as she nodded, the heel of her palm digging into her left eye before she looked to him. "Yes, she does." And there was nothing pleased in the tone. "I feel like having a drink. You?" Without waiting for a reply, he pulled her along towards the bar, where he sidled up right beside Marie. Ari was thrown onto the nearest stool where she caught herself and adjusted her seating properly on it. Just trying not to cry, and keeping her gaze on the bar. "He knows you're ready," started amiably to Marie as he reached up to brush a bit of hair from her face, "But that doesn't mean he is." Another debonair smile. "And if you keep talking, you won't make it to see him." The words were said innocuously enough, but the warning was evident. Ari was sending mental messages to Marie, along the lines of : DON'T REPLY.
Abject Illusion: He barely heard what Marie had said, only noticed the harsh way Bradley tugged Ari around, and felt her cry run through him like a cold metal spike. He'd been pulling back a long, hard drink from the Jack Daniel's when he pulled her like that. Then such audacity! The prick! His blood was boiling now...or what was left of it. In a violent swing, sending crystal and amber color every which way, he broke the bottle on the edge of the bar, which sent Larry under the bar, and cast all guarding eyes on him. "I may be half dead you feckin' prick...but so help me God, I'll go down in a hail of bullets to cut your throat." Beaten though he was, Leslie seemed to take on an air of dark intimidation...the sort of all too dangerous look that Arianna and Marie hadn't bore witness to. Bradley only chuckled, snapping his fingers deftly. Guns cocked one by one around him, muzzles of indeterminate number pointed all at him. "Alright...if you think you're fast enough..." The look on that smug little bastard's face only made Leslie think death wasn't such a bad sacrifice, so long as he took Brad with him to the grave. His fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle, his knuckles turning a ghostly white. He remained silent..motionless for a few moments longer before setting the bottle shard down and picking up his cigarette again. "Good boy..."
IsNothingSacred: She was surprisingly calm, which was unlike Marie in instances such as this, however..when you beat a dog to a certain point, the animal would turn on its own master if need be. She even turned to smile at Leslie, "It's over, you did your job and you did it well. Ten minutes after I go up, then you go take my room..and ..rest." She reached out and took the cigarette from his mouth and brought it to her own, inhaling a mouthful of smoke, which was blown right into Bradley's face as she turned away from Leslie. "Hey Brad? Fuck you." She flicked the cigarette at him then pushed from the bar and moved for the stairs. Bradley may want to kill her, and he clearly had the power and want to do just that, but Tony wouldn't let him live another day if that happened and they all bloody knew that. Don't think she didn't realize she'd pay and pay dearly for that move, but in her current state of mind, it was very worth the beating she'd receive.
Lessons Iearned: "You have the most interesting friends, love," commented as an aside to Ari when he turned away from Leslie's little move. He patted her cheek in a mock-fond gesture, though the last slap almost rang out through the bar area. If you wanted to see a dog that had been beaten all the way down to the ground, just look at how Ari responded to that. Biting her lower lip to stop from crying out again, she merely nodded once more before lowering her eyes to the bar. Turning towards Marie just in time to get that face full of smoke and the eloquent fuck you, Bradley started laughing before pushing off of his seat. He waited until she got upstairs to move. "Now don't go anywhere," said to Ari before he followed the other woman up to her room. Just as soon as he got inside, Marie was grabbed by the throat and slammed against said door. "Think you're tough because you've been hanging around that cunt downstairs? I've got news for you, I'm not her. I'm not anybody you know. I'll rip your heart out while you're still alive and shove it down your throat."
Abject Illusion: Shit...He shuffled off his stool after the both of them, casting an apologetic glance to Ari in passing, leaning in to whisper as he did. "No funeral...just bury me under the floorboard that Gio nailed my foot to..." He smiled weakly at that..humor, always...even in his darkest moments. The guards watched him, guns still drawn. "Easy boys...just headed for the restroom..." It was good they hadn't the slightest knowledge of where they were, because he was off up those stairs. He knew Bradley was going after Marie...and he was a bodyguard...he had to protect her...to the death. That was his job. Pain screamed through him as he reached the final step at the top of that grand staircase...fuck pain...he had business to attend to. He shuffled down the hall to Marie's room. The bastard's back was to him. Advantage, Leslie. A tap, given to the dapper suited shoulder. Hands loosed from Marie's neck to turn... "I'm in the middle of something what do yo--" the words were squeezed off. Leslie's thick, hard hands closed around the smooth, well shaven neck. He swung around, pulling Mr. Thibodeaux along for the ride. A thump loud enough to emanate through the whole of the establishment shook around him. The well polished dress shoes dangled a good foot off the ground, Leslie's jade eyes burning like hell fire. "Hands off!" Satan himself would be frightened of such a sight...
IsNothingSacred: Okay, hellooooo! Leslie, banged up, bleeding and damaged! For a moment, even Marie was afraid of the colossal giant, especially with the way his eyes glittered as they did. Death was promised, swift and sure should Bradley react the wrong way now. Taking a few backward steps, she smacked against the wall then edged behind Leslie and slid out of the room. The man was going to make his wounds worse! "Leslie, put him down...you can't..do that." Without ripping open your wounds! The situation was going from bad to worse, and quickly.
Lessons Iearned: "Fuck," was all she could think to say before pushing off of her seat as well to follow along behind everyone. Brad's guards eyed her cautiously but said nothing as she began climbing the staircase as fast as her ribs would allow her. If she was doing wrong, they knew their boss wouldn't think twice about letting her know. By the time she got to the head of the stairs to witness the scene, though, the thud Brad's body had made against the wall had alerted the guns, and they all but pushed her to the floor as they rushed past her. "Grab her," Brad choked out around the hand pinning him, and one of the guards stopped to lock an arm around Ari's own throat. A gun was leveled to her temple then. It was either drop Brad, or watch her head go bye bye. "The..c-choice is y-yours," he sputtered out with the last bit of oxygen he had.
Abject Illusion: His hands loosed suddenly. Letting Brad fall flat on his ass. Even beneath the thick jacket and loosely fit slacks, those muscles could be seen contracting and seizing again and again. Hands raised above his head, fingertips just so gently brushing over the plane of the ceiling. The rage in him was evident...as if a fireball might just fill the space his body now took up. His breath was ragged and forced. "Have them shoot me instead...come on you wee ponce, take me down. It's the only way you'll get either of them." He'd not been signed on to protect Ari. But with Orin in delicate absence, someone had to do it. And Leslie would be dead before any more harm came to either of them.
IsNothingSacred: Um, no. Leslie would NOT be dead, because the girls rather enjoyed the man's presence, thankyouverymuch. "No, no shooting. That will..only bring the cops around, and Brad wouldn't want the bad publicity." She almost glared at Leslie for such a bold move. Almost. She reached out and took Arianna's hand in her own, squeezing lightly. The 'I'll behave now, I swear' squeeze. Eyes slid to look at Leslie and she shook her head while offering an apologetic look. It was Aries weak hold that had Marie angry again, however. She hated seeing her like this. Hated seeing Leslie looking like he'd been run over by a Mack truck. None of them could handle much more.
Lessons Iearned: Brad used the floor as leverage to push himself upright from the floor as three of the guards came over to where he stood. Jerking his head towards Leslie, one of the guards used the butt of his pistol to slam into Les's side a couple of times in hopes of discouraging him from anymore acts of kindness, while the other two went behind the rather tall man. One kicked at the back of Les's knee while the other leveled his gun on the man's head. The one holding Arianna backed up as Brad walked over to take his place, and Marie was shoved back with the flat of his hand. Then, he grabbed Ari by the hair and jerked her head back enough to expose the line of her throat. A blade was pulled from his pocket and pressed against the skin as he watched the other two through blank eyes. "You think I'm kidding around? You think I give a damn about the police? You think I give a damn about the CAMPAIGN?" Yes, Senor Brad had gone loco. "The only fucking thing I care about is...." His voice trailed off as he regained a bit of composure, and then a look was leveled on Marie; dead on. Ari's jacket was ripped to the side to show the bruises lining her collar bone and trailing down into her shirt. "You think this is bad? Keep acting up and I swear to God, this will look Sunday School." He'd bypassed the deep end, and jumped off straight into the Mariannis Trench.
Abject Illusion: He cried out in agony as the contact came down on him in a storm of angry redemption. He fell hard to his knees, sending a hot spike of pain through his body. A boot came up to his midsection, a mumbled curse spat down at him. He curled on his side, moaning in unbearable pain. He spat blood onto the floor, twisted and writhed a moment longer before regaining a mild state of consciousness. "May God have mercy on your soul...you daffy fuck..." Another swift kick to the mid section...naughty boy...no speaking out of turn. Tears rolled out of his eyes, even the one so effectively swollen shut. He did something then he thought he wasn't capable of...he sobbed. He moaned and sobbed like a beaten child. "Oh God...I'm sorry...both of you...I failed you...Oh God I'm sorry..." Bradley sneered down at him, straightening off his suit jacket. "Ugh...I hate to see a grown man cry...put him out of his misery..." Another gun cocked coldly in the still night air, the muzzle pointed for his temple then...
IsNothingSacred: She went to move to Leslie after they'd again attacked him, but the guard nearest snaked out a hand and grabbed her arm, then pulled her back against him as she struggled for release. "Stop it! Don't you touch him, you assholes!" Another guard came over and backhanded her, then moved enough for her to see the extent of Arianna's injuries. "Ari..." she shook her head, then moved her gaze back to Leslie and the gun now pointed at his head. "Wait! Bradley, wait. I'll do whatever you want. Anything. You tell me what you want, and I'll do it. Don't shoot him." The guard was pulling back on both of her elbows so hard she thought they may break, but as her voice lowered, his hold eased. Yanking and arm free, Marie reached out and closed Arianna's shirt, keeping her eyes on the other's, "Anything. Just..don't shoot him. And please don't hurt her anymore tonight." And ..by God..she meant anything.
Lessons Iearned: "No." Ari's voice came out of no where, it seemed, and it held the edge that everyone was used to from her. Enough of this shit was enough. The hand holding the knife at her throat was grasped and she eased the blade away slowly. Bradley didn't offer any resistance to the move, due in part to the fact he was shocked -- as well as bemused -- that'd she done it. "Marie.. Tony's coming for you. I know what he's going to do when he finds you," Because he told me so, added silently. Getting to her feet slowly, she managed to avert her gaze from the man holding the gun to Leslie's head, up towards Brad as he in turn looked down to her. "Just.. stop it..?" she asked him quietly, not knowing anything else to do but what she was going to later. "Why shouldn't I just go ahead and kill him, then deliver that bitch to Tony with a bow around her?" Glancing over her shoulder towards Marie, Ari mustered up a smile before looking back to Brad. Nothing had to be said. He merely nodded and motioned for the gun to be put up. "Like she said, you're not mine to do anything with. Anthony has such fun things in store." And yes, he was gloating.
Abject Illusion: As Brad finished, a silence hung around the room, the only sound, the throaty, wet wheeze of Leslie's breathing. The guard who'd taken up a fistfull of those once shimmering onyx locks with the pistol against him, thre his head to the floor, getting another weak expression of agony out of the felled giant. He couldn't speak. If he did, they'd kill Ari...or they'd kill Marie...or they might just kill him for kicks. It wasn't about Leslie anyway. He was just in the way. Gumming up the works, as aforementioned. Maybe they all would have been better off if Gio had shot him dead that night instead of just warning him? He wished he could move...do something incredibly heroic, like seize the gun, Brad's ankle...pull the bastard down and level off a shot in his temple. End it. But it wasn't going to be that simple...and though he was fading in and out of conciousness...he knew it was true.
IsNothingSacred: Pulling away from her current tormentor, she eased to the ground near Leslie and lifted his head as gently as possible, offering her legs as a make-shift pillow for the now. "I'll do whatever Tony wants, without fighting him anymore." Glancing up, she stared at Arianna, not liking for the way Bradley was staring at her. Tonight..wasn't going to be fun for her, at all. "Is he coming for me in the morning, or am I leaving tonight?" Getting the attention off of Leslie as much as possible, she directed the conversation more toward her and Tony, and what was to happen next. At least then Les would have some fighting ..chance of survival. There was blood everywhere, and his eye..wasn't looking too hot. "What do you want me to do, Bradley?" mere whispers now, defeated tones barely carrying through the room.
Lessons Iearned: "You've got until he shows up for you," was all Bradley had to offer to Marie; his eyes staying fixated on Ari's face. "Can I have a moment with them, please?" asked quietly, and the nod he gave her made a brow lift in surprise. "I'll be downstairs. Don't take too long, I'm ready to get home." The lewd connotation to his words caused her to flinch slightly, but instead of saying anything else to him, she turned to walk towards where Marie and Leslie were on the floor. Kneeling down, she placed a hand on Marie's shoulder and tried at another smile, though it just wasn't working. "It will be soon, Mars. Just.. " Her words trailed off then, as her chin dropped to her chest. They were all fucked six ways to Monday, and they knew it. "I would tell you to run, but it wouldn't do any good at this point. He'll start randomly killing people until you either come back, or there's no one left." Ari suddenly.. felt too old for this shit. Reaching across to brush a bit of hair from Leslie's face, she winced again at his appearance. "Dominga'll be here soon. She'll know what to do with him; he'll be fine," all said aside to Marie. Ari was trying not to look the other woman in the eye.
IsNothingSacred: She smiled weakly, just as Arianna had just moments ago. "It's okay, Aries, I'm used to Tony. I know what he wants and needs. So..don't worry over me." She held her hand while glancing down to Les, then looked up quickly, "Tonight's your night, you know..." and she couldn't finish. Instead she started sobbing uncontrollably, unable to stop the gasps of breath from being sucked in so loudly. "I'm sorry. I should have never come here.."
Lessons Iearned: Ari had started crying when Marie mentioned knowing what Tony wanted and needed; tears dripping down her chin to splatter against their hands. "I'm used to it too, Marie. This is what I used to do." Trying to reassure the other, she gave Mars' hand a squeeze before getting slowly to her feet. "And this would've happened, regardless, so don't blame yourself. It's just... this is just how it goes." Bradley's voice called loudly up the stairs for Arianna to hurry up, and she half turned to walk off. Pausing mid-stride, she looked back to Marie and finally got a smile to appear full fledged. "Love you, Marsie."
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Walking down those stairs was the hardest thing Arianna ever had to do. The sight of Bradley waiting for on the landing -- the look on his face -- almost made her turn around and bolt back to her room. In the end, though, the only thing that would do; bring more harm onto Marie and Leslie. The Irishman had been beaten to within an inch of his life all ready. All Bradley needed was that small push and that inch would be erased in a matter of nanoseconds. Then Marie would be left completely alone... Ari didn't even want to think on that possibility. It was better that she have someone guarding -- or in this case, just with - her in case Tony showed up.
"I never took you to be such a noble person, love," was whispered into her ear as he placed her jacket over her shoulders, directing them through the club doors and into the awaiting car. "Just as well, though. We knew this would happen. I'm just glad you finally came around to see my side of things." Instead of answering, Arianna merely turned her head enough to stare at him. See his way of things? Finally came around? Was he absolutely, completely insane? In all senses of the word, she was his .. prisoner. Making a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat, she shifted enough in the seat to reach into her pocket; two tiny white pills extracted from where she had placed them earlier. Discreetly, they were slipped into her mouth and swallowed. They made things easier. They made things ... fuzzy. They made things seem not real....
* * * * *
Pain. Shoving her into the bedroom when they arrived back at the estate, Bradley wasted little time undoing the knot to his tie and tugging it off; suit jacket and shirt following next. Stumbling on her heels, Ari sprawled face down on the carpet, crying out as the carpet rubbed across her exposed knees. Hands flattening on the floor, she started half crawling - half pulling herself up, when the next thing she knew, Bradley was grabbing her by the shoulder and pulling her backwards. Choking off a scream, her eyes squeezed shut as his hand went to the front of her shirt and ripped it off, tattered pieces of silk hanging from the seam at her shoulders. Tears had long past welled up in her eyes and spilled over, and at the moment she was praying for oblivion to take her under. She'd rather be unconscious if this was to happen, but Fate had a cruel sense of humour; as did Brad. "You put yourself here," was muttered into her ear before he jerked her around suddenly and pinned her to the floor with his lower body. I love you too, Ari.... can't take turning around and not ... Orin's words drifted into her mind, and suddenly she began screaming at the top of her lungs. Hands curled into fists, and before she could think about what she was doing, one of those fists was planted squarely into Brad's jaw. Rearing back from her, a stream of blood was spit to the side before he backhanded her once - twice; not giving her time to get her bearings back before he began using her hair to drag her to the bed. Reaching up to grab the hands in her hair, her body began twisting and turning as she fought against his strength. "Let me up, you son of a bitch, you're not going to do this! Goddamnit Bradley, stop!" Managing to rake her nails down his bare arm, he hissed a breath in through his teeth before balling up his fist and ramming it into her side, hitting the ribs just now healing from their latest state of broken-ess.
Fear. Screaming -- yet again, though this time from unadulterated pain -- her writhing stopped as she went limp, her breath coming in heaving gasps as she worked at getting air to her lungs. "You should know bet-- STOP FUCKING MOVING!" Reaching down to level another punch into the same side, he hoisted her up and threw her long-ways across the bed, no time taken to 'savor the moment' before he was crawling over her. Wrapping a hand around her throat, he held her head still as he glared down; blood dripping from his busted lip to run down the side of her face. "Apparently your comprehension skills are SHIT. Shut the fuck up, act like you want to be here, and everything will be hunky dory. Got me, you stupid bitch? Am I making myself perfectly fucking clear? Or do I have to bring that Marie bitch here, and let Tony play Carve the Slut to get you to cooperate?" The hand around her throat tightened a bit as he shook her. Using the back of his free hand to wipe the blood from his mouth, another backhand was leveled onto her face before he began undoing the buckle of his belt. "Manners is what you need. Just because you come from no where doesn't mean you have to be misbehave this way." The belt was jerked from its loops before his zipper was dealt with next. Releasing her neck, his now free hand reached up to run almost gently through her hair, and the look he gave her just then sent her onto a whole new plateau of fear. "It's so beautiful," murmured huskily into her ear, before her skirt was ripped off. Undergarments were disposed of in the same way. Staring up at him in wide-eyed fright, the only sounds that escaped from her lips whimpers that bordered on hysteria. He'll kill Marie. He'll kill Leslie. He'll kill Pete. He'll find out about Orin and ki--no, no, God no.. Please.. help me.. What's that saying about a sinner's prayers going unanswered?
Degradation. That night, Ari learned new definitions for the words sadism, pain, and humiliation. The things he forced her to do, and then the things he forced upon her, she couldn't even begin to comprehend. All of her years in the prostitution business had never prepared her for what Bradley Thibodeaux had in mind. Just when she thought she was on the verge of passing out and being spared from what was happening, he'd slap her back into consciousness, or try to choke her, just so she'd pay attention. Do what he told her to do. Move where he told her to move. By the time the sun rose over the horizon, she was little more than a broken, bleeding shell of a person; tossed aside on the floor and curled into a shivering ball as Bradley slid into slumber. Somehow, she managed to bring herself up onto her hands and knees, promptly crawling into the bathroom that adjoined the to bedroom. Once inside, the sink basin was used as leverage to help her to her feet, where she stared in disbelief and disgust at her reflection. Her skin had taken on the papery white appearance that came with shock; bruises lining up the side of her face and across her cheeks from where the backhands had been placed. Blood was starting to cake underneath her nose and in the corners of her mouth, and with a muted sound, she turned to promptly rid herself of everything eaten within the past day. Finishing, water was sloshed around her mouth and spit out before something caught her eye in the mirror. His comment about her hair came to mind suddenly, and with a low cry, she flung open the medicine cabinet to search for a pair of scissors -- or even a razor blade.
Vague Retribution. When he found her later on that afternoon, she had passed out on the bathroom floor, longish strands of hair littering the linoleum floor around her form. Tresses that he had claimed to covet -- that had brushed her midback, now hung limp and uneven around her shoulders. Rousing her with a rough shake, he almost drowned her in the bathtub after ordering her to get into the thing. Anger poured in scathing waves from him, and the only thing that stopped him from killing her right then and there was the promise of another night. He'd finally had a taste of what he had been wanting, and he'd do everything within his power to make sure she stayed at his side, where she belonged. A hairdresser had been summoned to salvage what she could, but by the time Arianna left the bathroom, her hair barely brushed her jaw line. Eyes which had once sparkled with life and mischief had dimmed, as if someone had snuffed out any light that had been left within her. When anyone talked to her, she either replied with short - to the point - answer or with a comment that made absolutely no sense. She was nothing; Bradley had went through great pains to show her that. The only thing she could do now, was to hope and pray -- yet again -- that Marie or Pete got to Orin and told him what was going on. He was probably crazed -- take that as you wish -- to the point of delirium at this point, and Ari was hoping that he'd end this. Either by killing Bradley or letting Brad finish her. Either - or, .. she couldn't take much more.
-
"I'm feeling mighty lonesome, haven't slept a wink. I walk the floor and watch the door, and in between I drink ... black coffee. Love's a hand-me-down brew. I'll never know a Sunday in this weekday route..." Staring down into the coffee mug she was swirling, a faint smirk appeared as Ari realized it was black coffee she was partaking of. Bradley was letting her wander into different parts of the house these days, but it seemed the bedroom and kitchen were the two most frequented rooms. Elaine did well enough to keep out her way for the most part, which Ari appreciated. She'd hate to see what Brad would do to her if she stabbed his mother with a butter knife. Sighing, the spoon was tapped against the rim of the mug as an elbow found the table; her chin supported as she stared down into the coffee. "I'm talking to the shadows, one o'clock to four and Lord, how slow the moments go. When all I do is pour black coffee since the blues caught my eye. I'm hanging out on Monday my Sunday dreams to dry." A noise just outside of the kitchen door caught her attention, and the singing faded off slowly as she pushed to her feet. "Anyone out there?," called out cautiously; ever present fear tainting a voice that could once stay firm while telling the Devil to fuck off. The only answer she received was silence, and after risking a peek down the empty hallway, she shrugged to herself and headed back towards the kitchen table.
"Now a man is born to go a lovin', a woman's born to weep and fret. To stay at home and tend her oven and drown her past regrets ... in coffee and cigarettes. I'm moody all the morning, mourning all the night. And in between it's nicotine, and not much hard to fight...black coffee." Ari couldn't shake off the feeling that she was being watched, and a paranoid laden glance was thrown over her shoulder after her seat had been retaken. The hair on the back of her neck was standing on end, but being confronted with nothing -- after investigating -- there was little else she could do. It was probably just one of Brad's goons, checking on her to make sure she wasn't doing anything ( else ) stupid. With that thought, a hand reached up to brush along the bottom of her shortened hair as she continued singing softly to herself. The coffee was doomed to be stirred to death, rather than consumed. "Feelin' low as the ground, it's driving me crazy just waiting for my baby.. to maybe come around. My nerves have gone to pieces, my hair is turning gray. All I do is drink black coffee since my man's gone away..."
Pushing out of the chair again, the still full coffee mug was deposited into the sink. Fingers curling around the edge of the counter as she leaned forward, attention diverted straight ahead as she spoke. "You know, skulking about in the shadows -- during full day light -- is a bit stupid," called over her shoulder to whomever was out there. A faint snigger was heard, and Ari half turned towards the noise. A boy -- no older than eight or nine -- stood in the doorway of the kitchen, hands clasped innocently behind his back as he stared at her. The first thing she noticed was the way his eyes looked; as if he had lived a hundred lifetimes. "Who are you?" was asked quickly as she looked around to see if anyone else was around. "Ah, jest a nobody that gits to stay 'round here wif'me mum." He crept forward, studying her as if she was a painting on the wall. "I heard tell o'you. Dunno why yer here, though. Mum says..." His words choked off suddenly, realizing that he was telling more than he probably should. "Well, it don't matter none 'bout that, I guess. Yer Ar'anna right?"
Ari didn't know whether to reply, run, or just pretend to be mute from here on out. Everyone in this house was against her; they had to be if they went by Bradley's rules. Then again, the boy and his mother could very well be here against their wishes -- held by threats and violence -- just as she was. Folding her frame back into the previously abandoned chair, a short nod was his only answer. Chewing on his lower lip, another look was thrown over his shoulder before he walked straight up to her and ran a hand down the side of her bruised face. His head tilted to the side as he studied the marks, and even though she was trying to be aloof about it all, she was the first one to break contact. This was done by jerking her face away from his hand. His expression went serious when she did, though fingers curled into a loose fist at his side as he stepped back. "You gotta nice voice, Miss Anna." Nodding with that, he clambered into the chair opposite of her and folded his arms on the table. Eyes unblinkingly fastened on her then, and she squirmed beneath the youngster's scrutiny. "Yeah, well, what can I say," was her only acknowledgment of the compliment, and the look that passed over his face made her wish she'd answered with something nicer.
This house had a way of sucking all vestiges of trust and pleasantness from a person. As if you walked through the doors, and both things were stripped from you like at a weapons check. "I know ya don't wanna be here." A nod from him then. "Everybody talks 'bout it, and how it ain't right. Dunno what it is yet, but I'm workin' on that too." Ari was growing increasingly uncomfortable with both his scrutiny and questions. She kept expecting Brad to walk through the door and kill the kid for being nice to her or something. Hell, at this point, she almost expected the kid to pull out a weapon of his own and do the world a favor. Balled fists lifted to prop under the kid's chin as he dropped his gaze to the table between them. Inhaling slightly through her nose, Ari decided; to hell with it. To hell with it all. If someone was going to talk to her, she was going to talk back and if His Lord and Majesty didn't like it.. what was he going to do? Torture her some more? She almost laughed at that idea, but then the thought snuck in Or he can torture someone else in your place. That thought alone made her do what she did next. "Look peaches," started off a bit dryly, "I don't know what you're playing at, but I think it's best for everybody if you pretend I'm not here."
He grinned slightly when he looked at her again, as if he could read the thoughts in her mind. "S'okay. Brad ain't here and Dragon Breath went ta get her hair done or somefin'." Hands splayed up at his sides in a shrug. The first genuine smile in days appeared on Ari's mouth then, and she bit her knuckles lightly to keep from laughing out loud. Grinning a bit himself at getting that reaction out of her, his expression once again went serious when his eyes clashed with hers. His grin faltered and melted away completely, causing hers to do so as well. "I know ya miss 'im," he said abruptly, feet finding the floor as he pushed out of his chair. Opening her mouth to protest, the kid shook his head and held up a hand as if warding off of her intended protests. "Don't worry, nobody that ain't suppose ta know, knows. But it's okay. I'll help ya." With that, he moved towards the door; hands shoved into the pocket of his worn denims as he went. "What's your name, kid?" she asked suddenly, her skin having gone quite pale from his little announcement. What to make of it - she didn't know. As of right now, she wasn't going to try. Looking after him expectantly, the bleak despair in her voice made his steps stop as he glanced over his shoulder towards her. "Andrew," replied with a mock tilt of an imaginary hat before he disappeared through the entry way.
-
[ Live play ]
Lessons Iearned: Where was he? Walking back and forth near the servants entrance, the kid kept looking down to his watch and scowling. Between Massa Brad and his mom, Dragon Face, it had taken an Act of Congress for Andy to get outside, to wait. Good news, Elaine was asleep and Brad was .. busy for the evening. Bad news, throwing Miss Anna around was what he was busy with. He scowled at that thought too. He didn't know why he had brought it upon himself to help out, but when you got the call, it's what you had to do. Yanking his cap off, it was slapped against his thigh a couple of times as he peeked around the side of the building; trying to catch sight of someone he didn't know. Why this side of the house wasn't guarded, he'd never figure out. Maybe they thought intruders were scared of trees or something. He snerked at that idea. Most he figured, those guards weren't all that bright. Something shiny would distract them; like raccoons. "Okay, whoever you are, drag it on. I got stuff to do." Wash up, go to bed, and read a comic book or something but .. hey, that was important to an eight year old.
Orin The Jest: "Turn off the head lights," Orin muttered as they neared the silhouette of the house he knew must be Brads. Pete reached a hand forward and flipped a switch under the steering wheel of his Ford. Pete had decided at this point.. it was smart to keep his mouth shut. Not say too much. As unpredictable as Orin was he was even more so when he got to be so... serious. The Malk was helping himself into the black trench coat. White fingers went about buttoning it as Pete instinctively slowed the car down as they neared. The car moved near the house like a black shadow, its breaks crying faintly when they rolled to a stop. Orin put on the short brimmed Fedora he'd once found very amusing. At the moment nothing short of blood could amuse him. Pete slid the gears into park but left the engine running as he watched Orin pull a black cloth mask into place over his nose and painted mouth. Again, Pete would have asked but now was not the time. Orin turned his gaze to Pete then. "Stay here." Pete blinked. The protest was voiced as if he'd just been insulted. "But how are you-" He met Orin's gaze...and only then did he realize his mistake in opening his Orin The Jest: mouth. What stared back at him were the two most inhuman eyes he'd ever see...or care to see again. The boy swallowed back his words that instant and hoped Orin wouldn't speak again. To Pete's absolute delight the ...creature...sitting next to him didn't say a word. Orin ducked out of the car then and disappeared into the shadows of the wall surrounding the house. It wasn't long before he'd made his way around to the farthest back part of the house. There, he scaled the stone wall with ease. Upon reaching the top his hands were met with the sharp shards of glass bottles and broken windows that so many mansions in the Quarter used to keep un wanted guests out at night. Despite the blood, they were virtually ignored. The pain was almost welcomed. He dropped like a silent Shadow to the lawn below.
Lessons Iearned: Ever seen an eight year old pace? It was actually kind of amusing in a way, if the look on his face wasn't so .. serious. With hands clasped behind his back, he paced back and forth in front of the entrance, arm extracted every now and then to keep checking the time. He was like a little old man in a youthful body, complete with muttering. He hoped and prayed his Ma didn't do a bed check tonight. She'd sound the alarms if he wasn't there, things would just be .. complicated. They were close, he could almost feel it in his head. Andy couldn't remember how old he had been when he started realizing he could almost .. predict stuff. He always knew when someone was about to appear. It had freaked him out at first, but as the years passed, he used it to his advantage. Got away with a lot of stuff too. It helped him mom as well, with that sadistic bastard that lived here. He didn't like the way Brad looked at any woman, for that matter. The sound of the glass being pushed and crunched underneath something brought him out of his musings and he glanced up sharply. "S'about frickin' time, Mister, geeze. What were you waiting on, for me to send the Bat signal up?" All of this was muttered under his breath as he walked forward. Slapping his cap back on, he peered up to the person and squinted. "I'm not gonna ask who yer here for. C'mon."
Orin The Jest: To say Orin wasn't struck by the image would be a lie. The boy, pacing like that, checking his watch reminded Orin strangely enough of the White Rabbit. If he wasn't struck enough by the boy's actions it would be his words. Orin even (in a distant glimmer of his sense of humor) gave a glance over one shoulder to make sure it was him the boy had addressed. Orin was seemingly yards taller then the eight year old and yet he spoke to the vampire as if he were an overdue pizza delivery man or ...something. The thought that this was a trap was an instant one. Orin then remembered what happened to Alice when she followed the White rabbit. Without question he waited for the boy to lead him...at this point he had nothing but open arms for a trap.
Lessons Iearned: He might've been short, but Andrew was feeling about fifty-feet tall when the man didn't say anything in return. Ha. He was three-foot-something and someone was going to follow him. If the situation hadn't been as screwed as it was, it'd be very funny. Without waiting for further instruction, he turned on his heel and scampered back towards the rear door, shoving it open carefully before he stuck his head in. Peer to the right, peer to the left; coast's clear. Brad didn't keep many guards inside. Figured -- Andy reckoned -- that nobody could get past the goons outside. Waving an arm behind him, as giving the all clear follow me signal, he slipped inside and began walking slowly down the hallway, to where it co-joined with another hall. Pausing at the juncture, he paused to see if the man had followed him.
Orin The Jest: Again he had to ask himself...what's with this kid? Not only at the fact that he was following him into what was most certainly hell. A form of it anyway. His footsteps were silent behind the boy's... Jesus...why did he look so...familiar? Orin knew he'd never see the boy before a day in his afterlife. There was however, something uncanny and eerily familiar. Orin followed as far as he could, having to stop when he reached the threshold of the door. He stopped because he had to. A personal residence. He had to be invited. At the boy's distance he wouldn't know if calling this instruction would alert anyone to his presence. Too late to call after him...he was relived when the boy turned. The boy was his only in and he couldn't lose him.
Lessons Iearned: When he turned back to look, Andy actually... huffed. "Stupid vampire politics," yet again mumbled to himself as he skitted back towards the open door. The cap was shoved down farther onto his head as he once again looked up to the guy. "Do I have to say you are welcome into the joint, or just tell you to come on in?" He waved his hands in the air then, as if dismissing the thought. "Nevermind. You're welcome to come in. Don't make so much noise, next time," tacked on as a half-sarcastic addition. Looking at Orin expectantly, he stepped to the side and held an arm out; like he was the maitre'd and this guy was here for lunch. Andrew grinned to himself then with that thought, but it quickly faded. His head turned sharply to look down the hallway, as if he could see something that no one else could. That very well may have been the case. "We don't got long," was all he said.
Orin The Jest: Ok. Kid was getting annoying. Orin narrowed eyes at the remark. Politics? Through his annoyance it escaped him how incredibly odd it was for an eight year old to know about the restrictions against vampires, let alone the fact that he was in the presence of one. Under normal circumstances Orin might have found the boy amusing. A good dose of healthy sarcasm was in the kid's blood and it was rare that you saw that. At the moment though, it made him want to put holes in the wall. If Andy hadn't had the good fortune of being eight, and the fact that he was apparently helping him he might have regretted offering an arm out to show him the way. This kid was getting weirder and weirder and at this point Orin was almost certain this was a set up. "Where is she?" That's all he needed to know...then he could ditch the twilight zone kindercare.
Lessons Iearned: Think of him as Jack, just without the light bulbs, and he worked for more than a penny. He knew all, he saw all, ... and under the right circumstances, he told all. Shutting the door quietly behind Orin when he stepped in, he barely heard the question he was asked; just started walking forward again towards that juncture of the hallway. "I could tell ya, but you'd get lost in this place. It's a maze." His voice had lost the kid quality, and he was as serious as a heart attack. Making sure the coast was clear again, he started down the hall, and began making the twists and turns-- making sure Tall Annoyed Man was still behind him the whole way. He knew he was getting on Orin's nerves; you could say it was hereditary to push people. To get reactions, persay. Stopping at the end of one particular hallway, he winced as he heard a thump from behind one of the doors, and he pointed. "I gotta go," said with a bit of fear in his voice, as he turned to walk away. Pausing for a moment, he tipped his chin upwards to look at Orin one last time. Probably should've told Miss Anna this, but it didn't look like he was going to get the chance to talk to her. "She misses 'im and she's happy." With that, he ran down the hallway and disappeared around the corner of it.
Orin The Jest: Annoyed with the boy yes, but under the circumstances could you really blame him? He followed the boy without a second glance or a voiced protest. It was no less than jarring to find out someone had expected him. The unexpected fact that he'd been expected was one thing but he'd like to see someone stand in his way. That's why he strangely enough trusted the boy. Orin's head jerked in the direction of the thump. He started for it even before the boy turned to leave. He'd heard Andrew's words though they didn't register. Part of him...part of him knew he'd know what that phrase meant some day so he subconsciously filed it away to stumble across it again later when something jarred his memory. He reached the door, took a step back and sent a booted foot against it. The force was well enough to send the door splitting open, wood splintering almost sending it off it's hinges.
Lessons Iearned: "You do know," he started off amiably as he headed around the edge of the bed, "that you trying to run and hide just makes it that much more fun for me." Using one of the wooden posters at the end of the bed as a brace to lean on, one hand went to his hip as he watched her shrink into the corner. "Plus, we've been through this. Over and over and over. The room's big, and you may be short, but you're still in plain sight." He sighed then. "I swear, women get more and more stupid as the years pass on." Ari -- as was becoming her current usual -- just stayed quiet and tried to make herself invisible in that corner. Knees were drawn to her chest, arms huddled close to her body, and when Brad started forward, she had it in mind to try and run again. Of course, before the thought could be put into the action, the pressure of fingers curling into her hair brought her back to reality.. and against a wall. That would explain the thump. Hair was only released so that he could hold her into place by the throat. What started next was the usual bed time ritual. She tried to run, got the snot beat out of her, then she was tied to the bed.-- Operation Beat the Crap out of Her began as he drew his arm back, but the sound the of the door breaking off of it's hinges caught Brad's attention. "What in the he--" Ari was forgotten to the floor, where she just scrambled back to her 'safe corner' and tried not to think about what the sound meant. For all she knew, Tony was making good on his promise for participating in Fun Time. Brad was all eyes for the door.
Orin The Jest: Room. Bed. Brad. Ari. Brad. Ari. Orin got the picture, painfully. Something in the pit of him churned over at the realization. His eyes, in their unnatural form settled on Ari's curled figure, her hair... it had been cut. Brad at that moment seemed to disappear if only for a moment. The whole room at that. There was only the cold image of Ari curled in the useless refuge of that cold corner. Could Orin even begin to count by the bruises, the scars and her sobs how many indignities she'd suffered? He could smell what had been done to her. The sensation in the depth of him was something he'd felt before. He remembered walking into a room like this... and receiving this exact feeling...though he couldn't remember what the room had held. The moment was soundless. It was all as if he were watching a warped silent film in slow motion. Then, in an instant, like a train screeching to a halt at it's destination, like being pulled back into your physical form in a manner of seconds from an out of body experience he was drawn without resistance into rage. Blood rage. It was all like clockwork. He'd been here before. The fury came to him like fire set to gasoline. Brad wouldn't have had a prayer to move out of the way. Orin was upon him in an instant, and Brad's form was hauled into the wall as if Orin was chucking a barrel of hay.
Lessons Iearned: Brad was pissed off at the interruption. He didn't even think that maybe this wasn't someone that wasn't under his employ. They couldn't get through the countless guards outside. Even if they did, they wouldn't make it out of the front foyer without alerting someone to their presence. Elaine had a sort of built in burglar alarm system as well, so she would've been up and running to tell him someone was inside. He was musing over his shoulda-could-woulda's as he stepped forward to look out into the hallway, through the broken door. His shirt was shrugged back up onto his shoulders as he walked. Pausing briefly to throw a sardonic look over his shoulder towards where she was curled up at, he didn't have time to even think about blocking any sort of attack. Not before his body -- head first -- was shoved into the wall with alarming force. The brief thought of, that could've broken my neck, entered his mind for a moment. Ari had taken the incentive to look up, but you could tell from her eyes -- the way they'd gone distant and blank -- that she didn't think any of it was real. Just another dream for her to wake up from. Brad would be over her, and it'd start again. Disorientation and pain were the only two things Brad was feeling as he struggled to turn around to see who had thrown him. Down the hall, in a different room, Elaine bolted upright in her bed -- eyes wide with apprehension -- as she set about finding her wrapper so that she could head to Brad's room and see what was going on.
Orin The Jest: Fists fell in search of Brad's blood like it was black gold. Orin's imagination was unforgiving. The images of Ari and Brad... they flashed as relentlessly as his fists falls. Ari was screaming. Brad was enjoying himself. Orin's eyes clenched shut tightly but the blows fell heavy, one after the other. Brad was tossed to another wall as if Orin could push away the images with the action. The blackness only made the images more vivid. Ari... screaming and...Brad... what he was saying to her. What he was doing. The beating only paused for Orin to wretch. His own cry of rage and grief rose as if it could have drowned it all out. Everything. Orin's hands were nothing less than savage, they itched to break everything they could reach. The bedside table was let loose into Brad, a lamp. Brad's Arm would
snap like a twig if Orin reached it. Anything. He couldn't even see Brad anymore...he could feel the blood on his hands but all he could see were images of Ari... pinned, beaten, raped.. raped.. raped.. Orin could have killed Brad in an instant. That would have been merciful. Pain was what he wanted. Brad's. And he'd do anything for it now.
Lessons Iearned: Pain. All of those nights that he had inflicted it and now he was seeing how it felt. She wondered vaguely how did he like being held down. Punched. Thrown into walls. Broken. If this was only a dream, it was one she wouldn't mind putting on repeat. Everything she had felt for Brad in the beginning didn't matter. Back then, it had been dislike. Then after the 'Incident' it had morphed into hate. At the level it was at now, it didn't even have a name. Watching the lamp gouge into his side was morbidly fascinating, she thought How do you like it, asshole? She wasn't talking. No, she was scooting out of the corner -- around the men -- and trying to crawl towards the door. If it wasn't real, it didn't matter if she got to the splintered doorway, did it? Ari didn't think so. Brad didn't know whether to scream, cry, or try to ward off any of the hit, and the moment he tried to block, that's when his arm probably snapped. The previous two thoughts in mind drifted to a different two, now. One; how do I get away and Two; didn't I kill this guy all ready? Blood was pouring down his face like a river at this moment in time; blinding him to the point where nothing in the room made sense. Didn't matter really, since the only thing he hadn't been hit with yet was the bad. Choking on a mouthful of blood, he rolled to the side in effort to get away from this insane person, when he met the wall again. The definitive sound of ribs cracking under pressure could be heard throughout the room, and that's when he finally screamed. The edge of one of those broken ribs sounded like it had jabbed into something important. Elaine was at the door by now, screaming, wanting someone to help. She wouldn't go in, though. Of course not. That'd be putting her into danger. Couldn't have that now could we? Ari had paused near the bed long enough to extract something from underneath the mattress, but she was still going for that door. A gun was produced from the old broad's robe pocket and leveled at the crawling woman. "I swear to God, if you don't stop, we're going to see what color her brains are,"
yelled out above the chaos in the room. The hammer was pulled back on the gun as she stepped forward enough to yank Ari to her feet and press the barrel to her temple. Ari sighed. This dream was getting.. ridiculous.
Orin The Jest: It wasn't enough. Fist fall after fist fall. Orin could feel the flesh under his hands giving way, collapsing against his assault and ....it wasn't enough. To hear the breakage of ribs was like hearing your favorite team score a goal. It was addictive though as well as not being enough...none of this was enough. No matter what happened to Brad... no matter what Orin did to the son of a bitch it could never erase what had been done to Ari. What had been taken from her. The fact that Orin had not been there to prevent this ... that he hadn't been there to protect her poured salt and acid into the wound. It all came out on Brad's body, it wasn't until he screamed that Orin could stop. It took everything for Orin not to twists Brad's fucking head off and chuck it at his screaming bitch mother who he'd become aware of standing in the doorway. Orin paced once or twice his eyes never leaving the crumpled mess that was still (barely enough though it seemed )Bradley. A white hand reached up to pull the hat off...it was more like it fell off with help though. Next, a blood soaked finger reached to draw the mask away from his features. Orin was almost just as covered in blood as Brad though it surely wasn't his own. It didn't take much for that to grab Orin's attention. His eyes, stark and un natrual moved from Brad's bloodied form to burn through Elaine. He shifted like a caged tiger...pacing this way a step or two...the other way.. not knowing what action to take but the evidence of the need for it was pulsing in him.
Lessons Iearned: Elaine was inch or so shorter than Ari -- if you can believe it -- so Ari was turned into a half contortionist as Screaming Bitch Mother grabbed her by the neck and bent her head down enough to point the gun at it. The bitch was little, but she was strong. Ari was just.. oblivious. Maybe she'd downed one too many tablets before the night commenced. Maybe Brad had mind fucked her six ways 'til Christmas, and she wasn't even sure of her own name anymore. Maybe she had just decided fuck the world and was now in her own little happy place. Didn't know, didn't matter. Wincing as Elaine screamed into her ear, both eyes squeezed shut. They only cracked open when she glanced down to her hand. She'd made a pit stop earlier, she remembered! Yaaay for her, not so yaaaaay for Elaine. We'll get to that in a minute. Brad was in that blissful area that wasn't quite conscious, wasn't quite unconsciousness. He could feel every bruise, every cut, every broken part of him. The blood was so thick over his face and down the front of his body, that it looked like he was wearing a slick red suit. When the blows stopped, he finally made it onto his side; a thick choking sound audible as he tried to breathe around the sludge of blood and saliva that was blocking his throat. He was thinking, Woo. Mom's here. She'll save me! Goody gumdrops fo'me.Back to Elaine now. Twisting her head to the side, to rub her cheek against her shoulder, Ari's lips twisted into a grimace as Elaine kept screaming. Just screaming, screaming, screaming right into her ear. "It's bad fucking manners to yell right at someone's head," was muttered through clenched teeth before Ari took the incentive to half turn towards Elaine. With the gun still at her temple, she couldn't move far. Just her arm. That was enough. The knife Brad had kept under the mattress for Play Time suddenly was jabbed into Elaine's stomach, and with surprising force, Ari jerked it upwards; as if trying to find the woman's wind pipe in the meantime. The gun dropped to the carpet with a dull thump from fingers that had went lax, and all Elaine had time to do was blow a blood-spit bubble before falling to her knees. Ari just.. watched her. Detached. Even patted Elaine on the head before the woman fell prone onto the carpet. She glanced at the knife in her hand, as if not seeing the blood coating it before looking back towards where Orin was. The knife was released to the floor then. It looked like somebody had turned the switch to "off" in her eyes. "I think I'm ready to go home now," was all she could say before nodding and turning towards the door.
Orin The Jest: Orin stood shifting, ready to move for the gun...ready to pull one of his own. Eyes watched unmoved but resolute when Ari seemed to spring to life for a moment to carve into Brad's screaming mother. Orin watched as the blade tore into flesh and he idly wondered where Ari had gotten it. When Elaine collapsed to the floor... the rage began to drain from Orin's fists as the blood drained and pooled around Elaine. He was only free from physical rage now though, the fury itself was deep seeded. Orin watched Ari now...he took in everything, how she patted Elaine's head almost tenderly. It was only when she looked to him that he could see first hand the faded light in her eyes. The sight seemed to empty him. It was like a walking dead Ari... it was like a rag-doll version of her, a shell of the woman he cherished more than anything he'd ever known. Blood, thick and black against the white of his skin fell from him. His own as he openly wept at the loss. A loss he could have prevented... He moved toward her slowly then, arms reaching to take her up from her feet carefully. Pete was not left far...and he'd surely left the car idling. "Let's go..." He barely had a voice, the very sight of her seeming to of taken it away. Orin nodded as he turned slightly to the side to ease her out the gaping doorway.
-
[ Written by Orin's mun ]
The End
"You'll have to forgive me," Orin said. In the dim light, the deep pitch color of the blood staining his mouth was hardly distinguishable from the paint. "For the mess," he added casually as if he felt he had to explain himself. "Comfortable?" asked suddenly with an upward inflection to the crumpled bloodied heap in the corner that was Bradley Thibodeaux.
"Fucking...freak," Brad managed through a mouth full of blood. Swollen eyes lulled to the figure that stood in the doorway. The figure that was stepping over his mother's fallen and prone form. Brad spared a glance to his mother, not fully grasping her death. His eyes rose to the greater and more immediate threat. A grimace overcame him before he spat a thick clot. "I...," he managed his words messily at the vampire's gradual approach. He took a moment to lift a hand, and with the back of an already drenched wrist, he swept his mouth once, "..fucking shot ... you ... you're dead." He shook his head heavily from side to side, the matted locks sticking to his forehead from the congealing blood "I killed you... " he muttered. His hand slowly lifted toward Orin to extend a shaky accusing finger. "I fucking killed you. I fucking shot you..." The hand was swept mindlessly to the side, through the air in a violent movement of dismissal. Dismissal of acceptance. Brad's knees lifted then and heels were pressed to the drenched carpet in an attempt to push off from the floor as if he could back himself further into the corner.
"That's not why I'm here but, now that you mention it, I think I do remember that. Nice of you to remind me. I'll keep it in mind tonight," Orin said fore warningly when his footfalls stopped him just short of Brad. Orin's shadow was thrown over the other man's beaten form, taking the glint and the red from the blood and making it seem as if Brad had simply been doused in black ink. "Huh.." Brad shifted his head upward and managed a cocky smile. "You're here 'cause I fucked your whore." His words were spat vehemently, and before he could muster up a mocking laugh, a kick was dealt to Brad's midsection which sent him doubling over.
Orin's hand, soiled to the wrist with Brad's drying blood, took a fistful of the other man's matted hair and with a heavy pull, Brad was yanked from his corner. He was dragged across the carpet in no time at all to where his mother lay in the sopping carpet surrounding her. Orin slid a booted foot under her to kick her form over. The former Elaine Thibodeaux flumped over with an arm flopping lifelessly out to the side; eyes staring endlessly up at the ceiling. Orin changed her point of focus by slinging her son on top of her.
"TELL ME BRAD. IS MUMMY OK?" Orin screamed down at Brad, baring blood stained teeth. Brad's hands reached out to brace himself from the fall, and he succeeded, though they put his eyes in the direct path of his sightless mother's. "Mother," Brad uttered..."Mother," he muttered again, a hand raising to graze her cheek as if it would rouse her. The only thing it succeeded in was leaving a solid red smear.
"I HAVE AN IDEA!" Orin chimed in with cheerful madness while stalking in a pace behind the two. "Lets check her pulse!" He lunged forward in an instant, crouching down beside the two. He picked up Elaine's limp wrist with crusted fingers as if it were an appetizer. His expression changed into a mock graveness "Oh..I dunno, Junior. It doesn't look so good." Orin reached a hand forward toward Elaine. "I'm fine really!" Orin said out the side of his own mouth in a shrill and glass splintering voice while operating Elaine's lifeless jaw as though she were speaking. "No, you're not silly goose," Orin argued in his own voice. "I am!" he added shrilly, puppeting Elaine once more. "She's delusional," Orin offered consolingly with a pat on the back to a delirious Brad who was still searching his mother's features. A glint caught Orin's eye and he reached over to pluck the tool of Elaine's destruction from the carpet. He turned it over in his hand thoughtful before he sent it down with one swift movement to sever Elaine's hand from the wrist; all the while holding her hand in his own as if they'd been greeting each other. It was offered to Brad in that same consoling manner. "I think she would have wanted you to have this."
Brad all but flung himself from the scene of the inside of his mother's wrist. He pulled away and backed himself up toward the bed until his back pressed against the footboard. "You sick FUCK!" he screamed trying to manage from becoming ill all over again. He'd already discarded his dinner and a good amount of blood during the earlier beating.
Still crouching, Orin narrowed his eyes on Brad disapprovingly. He glanced down to Mummsy and fitted her severed hand into the one which was still attached. "Hold that for a second would ya." Pause. "Saw'right?" He asked her and then leaned a hand forward to operate her mouth again. "Saw'right," was said in that shrill voice he'd assigned to Elaine. Orin seemed satisfied with such and rose to his feet again, then stepping towards Brad.
"Don't come near me, you sick fuck. Stay the fuck away from me!" Brad's arms slung out madly while he tried to employ the bedpost to aid him in standing. Orin let him rise. "She wanted it. Do you hear me!? Your little whore begged for it. She got down on her fuckin' knees and she fucking- " The next sound out of Brad was an unintelligible sound that was something between a grunt, a growl, and moan. Orin's hand curled around the back of Brad's collar and before he knew it he'd been hauled out into the hallway. "Oh, watch your step!" Orin warned while hurtling Brad's head into the adjacent wall. He released Brad to the wall, letting his own momentum propel him into the collision. When Brad crumpled to the floor Orin reached to reclaim his collar and Brad was dragged along.
"Where is it?" Orin demanded while they traveled. Brad groped for his shirt, the collar pressing against his air passages.
"FUCK YOU!"
"I think there's been enough of that going on for you. Where is it?"
"I don't know what you're fucking talking about you sideshow fuck." Bradley wheezed.
"You have stunning vocabulary. I'll ask one more time. Where. Is. It? The deed. Ari's deed. To her house." Orin had drug Bradley into his own office. Leaving Brad to recover his breath on the floor, Orin began toppling glass objects; leafing through papers before discarding them to the floor. Brad was silent all for his coughing.
The toolbox had been found in the bottom desk drawer. The pliers had been extracted and it only took the removal of two molars to get Brad to point to the picture frame on the wall that turned out to be a safe. Courageous Brad even managed to scribble out the combination for Orin. "Now... " Orin breathed in a 'that's that' sort of manner before turning back to Brad and tucking the papers into an inside pocket of the trench. "Where is Ari's ring?"
"I don't know what you're fucking talking about. I never saw any jewelry on the bitch."
Orin lifted the pliers unrelentingly to Brad's mouth for a fourth go. Really, it seemed the more teeth Orin "dentisted" from Brad, the funnier the guy talked. It was a plus however that the slander and insults were no longer intelligible. It was however misfortunate the answer regarding Ari's ring wasn't going to happen...couldn't happen now.
"Time to go for a ride." Orin patted Brad's head.
---
They left the Mansion in one of Brad's cars. The house smoked and smoldered behind them. Flames were ripping through the interior and licking out the windows as if the lot had been a gate to hell itself. Orin was driving with Brad lain out in the back seat. They were at the end of the long driveway and out the gate by the time they could hear sirens. Orin began to employ the proper turning signals for driving by reaching an arm out the window to politely indicate his right turn to the empty street.
"Lovely night for a drive isn't it?" Orin smiled into the rearview mirror. Brad's swollen and discolored face stared back.
"Ooo" Orin cringed. "You might want to get that looked at."
***
The drive hadn't been too long. It was very near Ello's neck of the woods. Of course, having crawled your way out of a six foot deep hole and dragged yourself along for a good couple of miles it was easy to find your way back. Brad had been drug from the car and handed a shovel which Orin pulled politely for him from the trunk.
"You remember this spot don't you? I do." Orin took a spot by a tree, leaning his back against it. He crossed one leg over the other casually and folded his arms to watch. Brad defiantly spit another clot of blood from his mouth in the direction of Orin's feet. "S'what you get for smoking." Orin nodded matter-of-factually as he slipped a clove to his own lips. Deciding he didn't quite like the tree too much Orin shifted to seat himself on an oblong wooden crate which had been ominously placed nearby for...some reason.
"Oh come on." Orin glared down at Brad with a half shrug not buying the 'I'm in pain and bitterly resentful' act as he lit the clove. "It's not even filled in all the way!" He aimed a hand at Brad accusingly as if he were shouting at a ball game
"You can manage."
What Brad managed was something that sounded a lot like it included 'Son of a bitch'. "C'mon." Orin said in a resolved sort of manner. "We'll work together." With that suggestion he stood from his seat on the crate and neared Brad who viciously protested the Malkavian's grasp. His thrashes were ignored as Orin pulled Brad to his feet, grabbed the shovel and arranged the tool in Brad's hand as if he were teaching a kid how to swing a golf club. "Here we go. On the count of three jackass. One. Two. Three" He forced Brad to fill the shovel with a single load of dirt and though he himself was doing most of the grunt work Brad was still taking part in digging his own grave. Good enough for Orin.
After a few shovel fulls Orin figured Brad got the point. With that done, Orin shoved Brad out of the way leaving him to fall the ground with a bitter and painful moan. He'd lost too much blood to fight anymore. His whole face was a swollen mess, especially his virtually toothless mouth which had previously bubbled blood as Orin busied himself with setting a proper mansion fire. He'd even tied a scarf around his neck during the process as if he were a boyscout.
"I know what your thinking." Orin mused whimsically to Brad as he began tossing shovel fulls of dirt over his shoulder in the already existing cavity in the earth. "You're thinking...boy I'll be glad when he's done with me.... Or maybe you're thinking... Jee...I wonder if Mum's saving me a spot." Shovel. Dirt. Shove. Dirt. The hole was growing nicely. "Or maybe you're thinking...I should have never touched Ari. Maybe you're thinking you should never have even given her a second look...you know." Shovel. Dirt. Shovel. Dirt. "Because trash like you deserve what you deal. And you Brad... you deal in Hell.... so I'm sure they miss you. It's time someone sent you back. ... You know...you're going to have some time to think about it." As the digging went on Orin took up humming. Brad was trying to combat-crawl his way back toward the car. Orin ignored him while his humming formed into the words to a song.
"And now, the end is near." Shovel. Dirt. Shovel. Dirt. "And so I face the final curtain." Orin smirked to himself ironically and peeked out of the hole at the next part "My friend" Back to digging. "I'll say it clear. I'll state my case...of which I'm certain. You've lived a life that's...bull. Traveled each and every highway." Pause "Including your mother." The song went on with it's occasional added lyrics until the hole was dug and the crate had been positioned inside. The next addition would be Brad of course. A very alive Bradley. Orin went up to grasp him by the wrist just as poor Bradley had come within an arm lengths distance of the car. With a backward yank there was a sickening pop as Brad's arm dislocated at the shoulder socket. His body kicked up dirt and rubble as it was drawn toward the hole like an old rag doll. He was unceremoniously chucked into the wooden crate, landing with a broken thud.
"I've loved, I've laughed and cried" Orin went on with the song oblivious and indifferent to the cries of pain. The moans. The blubbering which he was sure sounded like desperate pleading.
"Oh. Brad. " As if he'd just remembered something important. "One more thing before I tuck you in." Orin extended a fisted hand over the open grave and held out over Brad. It opened slowly and the handful of spent bullets began raining down into the coffin tapping against the wood and Bradley like hail. "They didn't fit. So I thought it best to return them. It would never have worked out for you and I anyway". Orin lamented with a sigh as he chucked the clove into the coffin before he lowered the lid. The song was resumed as he began driving the nails.
"I've had my fill; my share of losing" it was a bitter note while the last nail was driven in.
"And now, as tears subside. I find it all so ... amusing"A whimsical smile and the first shovel full of dirt was thrown onto the crate. It wasn't untill then that Brad commenced to scream. A wave of satisfaction washed over Orin. He'd been getting worried.
"That's it Brad! Sing with me!" Another hunk of dirt landed on the crate with a heavy thud.
"For what is man, what has he got? If not himself, then he has naught. To say the things he truly feels" Orin took a pause out from the song "I think you're the sick fuck Bradley" said charmingly as if he were dedicating the song. "And not the words of one who kneels. The record shows... I took the blows-actually you did-but at least we did it... my way."
-
1921
"Gisselle!"
Bursting through the front door of the small house, Timothy quickly yanked the hat from his head while looking around the room anxiously. The fact that they had paired him with that rather morbid newcomer had put him on edge and for some reason, he really wanted to see his wife. Not seeing anyone in the living room, he dashed down the hallway; doors being thrown open in his endless search along the way. Skidding to a halt outside of the kitchen, he backed up a couple of steps as he spied the object of his search, standing at the stove with her back to him, and their daughter at her feet playing with a bowl and a spoon.
"Didn't you hear me callin', Ellie?"
Turning to glance over her shoulder towards her husband, a careful dance / side step was made so that she wouldn't step on Arianna when she turned around. Hands wiped down the front of her apron carefully as violets narrowed on his form. "In case you ain't noticed, Timothy Paul, it happens to be seven in the mornin' and you just gettin' home?" The corners of her mouth turned downwards into a deep frown. "You smell like tobacco and whiskey," said disapprovingly as she turned back to the stove to finish breakfast. Ari glanced up between her parents and frowned as well -- if a six year old can frown -- before turning her attention back to the spoon she was holding. As long as they didn't start yelling at each other again, she'd be fine.
Timothy sighed and took a step back, hands shoving themselves into his pockets before he glanced down to his daughter. "Things came up," lamely offered before he hiked up the fabric of his pants and knelt down in front of Ari. "Whatcha doin', ducky?" asked as his hand pointed to the spoon and bowl she seemed dead intent on. "Helpin' Mere make breakfes'." Nodding firmly with that, the spoon was held up to him as if she were asking him to taste test it. "You din't come home las'night." Eyes the same color of her mother's turned upwards to him unblinkingly, and he shifted uncomfortably under the innocent scrutiny. "Your Papa had to work, Ari. So I can take ya to the carnival later on."
That earned a squeal of excitement from the six-year old before the spoon and bowl were abandoned. Arms were thrown around his neck and she planted a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "Ferris Wheel!" was trilled out before the gleeful moment was spoiled by Gisselle's sound of disapproval. "Ain't usin' that blood money on her that way, Timothy." Dark blues shot up her way instantly. "Now listen here, Ellie... if I can use it to pay for this house and everythin' else, why can't I take her out there for awhile?" If there was one thing everyone in the house knew -- Ari included -- is when Gisselle said no, she meant n o.
"How you gonna ask me a question like that and be serious?" By now, Ari was gathering together her previously abandoned utensils and heading to sit beneath the kitchen table. It was her 'safe spot' when they started arguing. Timothy pushed up to his feet and stared down on Gisselle, who hands were going to her hips. A surefire sign that it was about to hit the fan. "If it wasn't for the fact our daughter would be sleepin' on the streets without it, I'd say to Hades with your money. If you wanna take her somewhere, get an honest job and earn the money the right way. Then talk to me about it. Until then, I think it's time for you to get on upstairs and change outta those clothes, because frankly you're startin' to make my kitchen smell." Inhaling deeply after the brief tirade, her eyes remained determinedly on his.
He knew better than to argue back. It wasn't that he listened and did what she said. The fact of the matter was, they both knew she was right, and how could you fight back against the truth? Hands went up in front of him, surrendering to her point of view as he turned to walk out of the kitchen. Pausing beside the kitchen table, he rapped on the top of it a couple of times to catch Ari's attention. "Sorry ducky, maybe another time, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him.
The knocks on the table made her jump, and both hands clasped over her mouth to subdue the giggles building up because of it. Of course, all traces of laughter faded once she realized she wasn't going to go to the carnival, but.. Mamas were always right, and they knew what was best. Especially her Mere. Scuttling out, she hurried over and threw her arms around one of Gisselle's leg; squeezing tightly before dropping back down to sit on the floor. "S'okay, Mere, din't wanna go noway." Nodding firmly with that, the search for a new spoon commenced as Gisselle glanced down to her. The older woman sighed before turning towards the stove again.
"That man's gonna be the death of me one day," muttered under her breath.
In the bedroom, Timothy pulled his shirt over his head and moved over to the dresser to find some clean clothes. "That woman's gonna be the death of me, I just know it," muttered as well before he slumped down heavily onto the bed and cradled his head between his hands. When night fell, he knew what he had to do, and that coupled with Gisselle's theory on his life, was giving him a serious attack of the 'I don't wanna do this anymore' blues.
-
December, 1921
The closer it got to the holidays, jobs seemed to pop out of the woodwork. Just last week, they'd hit a bank over on Bourbon. The week before that, a casino near the edge of town. As of yet, no fatalities had occurred, but it seemed from the talk coming from the `boss man's` room, that was about to change. Timothy, Charlie, Bill, and Martin were sitting out in the living room, nervously exchanging glances between each other. The killing didn't bother Charlie and Martin, but the two men respected the other two's squeamishness about it. That new guy, Mike, didn't have the first problem about snuffing someone either, but he seemed to be the type to work alone. That one job that Tim had accompanied him on had been the first and last time the guy had been partnered with someone.
"Whatcha think's goin' on in dere?" Leaning over to whisper to Tim, Bill's eyes darted nervously towards the closed door. "Ain't got th' first idea, man. Gotta feelin' we ain't gonna like it either." They all had families to support. This was the main reason they did what they were told, regardless of their feelings on the matter. Gisselle had went on another rant this morning before he left the house, and that -- coupled with the searing pain that had been ripping through his side for the past few days -- had put Timothy in a rather dismal mood. "You'd think wit' somethin' important goin' on, they'd be lettin' someb--" Bill's words cut off abruptly as the door swung open then, revealing a rather large, overweight, aging fellow by the name of Don. His name was synonymous with his title in the outfit. He had been the Don of the Chicago Outfit before Al had come along, taking over everything and putting himself in the spotlight.
"Yous guys ready or do I gotta give ya incentive?" Removing the cigar that had been clamped between his thick lips, hands extended in front of him almost graciously as his beady eyes drifted over the four men there. A chorus of "Yeah, boss" and "We're ready" instantly began, and Don grinned slickly at them. "deBurgh, yous take Bill there, and go find out where dat guy Mike is, see? He got your instructions. I want it ta be a clean sweep, no witnesses. Capice?" A serpent like tongue darted out to run over his lips before the cigar was reclamped. "Make sure yous guys let 'em know Don Rouchex sends his regards for a happy holidays." Chuckling to himself then, he turned on his heel and walked back into the room, door shutting with a dull slam behind him.
"Who da hell went and made dat guy boss, huh? He's crazy." Charlie -- albeit quietly -- voiced what everybody else in the room was thinking. With shrugs and noncommittal noises, the group dispersed to their cars. Tim motioned for Bill to follow him to the Ford parked out front, the door popped open for him. "Somethin' 'bout dis ain't right," was muttered to Bill as Tim slid behind the steering wheel, the key jammed into the ignition to kickstart the motor. "Yeah," was Bill's only reply as his eyes fixed dead ahead. The country began making way for the city as the miles dispersed, and once they were in city limits, Bill turned to the other. "I doan think Charlie and Martin are gonna be comin' back from dis one."
Every mobster's nightmare. Your own gang turning on you. Slamming his foot down on the brake, the car skidded to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road. Jaw tensing, his eyes didn't leave the windshield, but rather seemed to be boring a hole through it. "Whatcha heard, Bill?" asked calmly, without any real inflection. Bill began shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hands nervously sliding along the seat belt across his lap. "Nothin' really. Just dat Charlie's been shootin' off at da mouth, and Martin's been goin' along wit' him." Cause enough for an assassination, to Don. Hell, to anyone in power in this day and time. "Get out da car, Bill," said suddenly, blues finally turning to fix on the other man. "Tim, whatch--"
He was cut off before he could finish. "I said get da hell outta th'car, BILL." Reaching over suddenly, the seat belt across the man's lap was undone and the door was opened, the man pushed unceremoniously out of the car. "Go on home. I'll get wit'ya later. Don't answer yo'phone or th'door." With little more than that, Tim pulled off in a squeal of tires. Grabbing his hat from the road, it was dusted off as Bill scrambled to his feet and looked around quickly. "He dun lost his damn mind," muttered under his breath before he took to the back streets and alleys to his house.
Tim sped down the streets as if the Devil was chasing the car, stop signs ignored and the corners taken at break neck speeds. Before long, he was pulling up in front of the DeFoe house. Jamming the car into park once it stopped, the door was all but kicked open before he was heading for the steps leading up to the porch. At the door, a fist began beating almost angrily against the screen. "MIKE, I KNOW YER IN THERE." Rap-rap-rap-rap. It was one thing to kill someone you didn't know, but when it got to the point you had to knock off someone you'd spent the past six years working with? Even a mobster had to have some morals. If he had to knock all damn day, he would.
---
"One bright mornin', when this life is o'er, I'll .. fly away." With hands deep in a ball of gooey dough, Gisselle's voice rang out strong and true through the house. After the .. dispute with Timothy this morning, she began doing the only thing that could take her mind off of troubles, at least for a little while. Baking. A six year old Arianna was standing on a chair at the counter beside her, doing her best to keep up with her Mere's singing, though she was having a little trouble. "I got dis part, Mama! Don't sing." Small hands coming up as if that'd stop the woman, Ari cleared her throat. "Ta th'home on God's ceeleshal shore, I'll fly 'waaaaaay."
Looking expectantly towards Gisselle then, as if for approval, the elder woman chuckled softly to herself before nodding, lips pulled to expose teeth in a wide smile. "Tha's it, cher. Ya sang it angelically." Beaming under the praise, Ari nodded firmly before reaching over to stick her fingers into the dough, an "Eeeee," of disgust loosed at the squishy feel. Fingers were then held up towards her face as she sniffed it. "I doan unnerstand how dis stuff turns inta bread. Yucky." Careful not to touch fabric, Gisselle's arms slid beneath Ari's and lifted her from the chair to set her on the floor. "Very carefully, cher. Go wash yer hands." With a pat to the rear, the youngster was ushered towards the hallway.
Little did either know that just outside their comfort zones, a pair of eyes watched their every move.
-
January, 1941
The first thing she noticed upon getting off of the train; it was a lot colder in St. Louis than it was in New Orleans. Bundling the coat closer around her form, a brief smile was given to the conductor as he handed her the two bags she had brought.
Timothy had said he'd meet her at the station, but the one thing he had failed to mention... how would they recognize each other? Eighteen years had a way of changing people; that nasty little thing called "growing up". As hard as she tried, she couldn't remember his face. It was hard to remember the face of a ghost. He stayed from home more than he stayed, back then.
Standing there on the platform, eyes wide as she looked around, the sound of someone calling her name caused her to jump in surprise. Turning to face the one calling her name, she almost burst into tears. It was like somebody had turned the focus knob on the television.
".. Arianna."
"...Papa..."
Face to face, in the flesh; it felt almost surreal in a sense. It'd be a lie if she told herself that she didn't sometimes wonder what he was doing, where he was, .. how he was faring. The truth of how he was faring was evident in this appearance. Skin was sallow, eyes were red and bleary. You could almost feel the life draining out of him. Jet black hair had long faded to gray, and lines creased a face that had once been smooth and unmarred.
A faint smile appeared as he watched her approach, a wavering hand extending to help with the bag. Unsure of what to say at the moment, all Ari could do was shake her head and tug one of the bags closer to her body. "I've got them. Are you parked close?" Meeting his eyes levelly, she tried at a smile to mirror his own. Eighteen years of wondering... and they were finally there... together.
"I didn't mean to send that telegram outta the blue, Ari.. I've been meanin' to get in touch with you for awhile, it just never seemed like the right time...." And now that he was dying, it was the perfect time, he thought ruefully, a hand reaching up to brush through his hair as he pointed towards his car. She didn't need his help, that much was evident, so he hung back and let her carry her own things.
A thousand questions sprang to her lips; questions that she had been carrying for all of these years. Why did you leave? How could you abandon me and Mere? Why did you have to wait until you were almost dead to realize you wanted me? Throwing her cases into the trunk when he opened it, she actually turned and opened her mouth, but one look at his weary expression, and forlorn features.. and she couldn't do it. As much as she told herself that she hated him, she couldn't do it.
"What matters is that I'm here now, right? I'm glad you got in touch with me..." Nodding with that, she climbed into the car and tugged the door shut, hands clasping in her lap as eyes went downcast. They had from now until the.. end to talk. Silence was golden in moments like these, and not another word was said as the car was started and they pulled off from the train station.
---
Holding the phone for a moment longer, Ari stared down at the receiver incredulously. That couldn't have been... no... He would've said more than just a few words if it had been Orin. A scowl crossed her features the more she thought on it. Tell her I miss her. Yeah, I just bet you do, she thought sourly, slamming the phone down in a fit of aggravation. "Something wrong?" The weak question made her turn around, a sheepish expression on her face. Timothy hadn't been able to stand or sit upright since they had made it back to his house; whatever illness he was inflicted with had started to show almost immediately.
Cirrhosis. It seemed like such an innocent word when he had first told her. The more he explained the condition to her, the worse it got. The disease came about from all of his years of alcohol abuse; something that Gisselle had always warned him about. It's easy to think that you're immortal when you're young and headstrong, as he had been. With cirrhosis, the liver cells give way to scar tissue, and the organ loses it's ability to function. When your liver shuts down, it cases jaundice, and it also makes you bleed out from any orifice available. This comes from the blood trying to find alternate ways to the heart. Even as the question was asked, he started coughing, a handkerchief that he kept handing becoming stained with blood as it came from his mouth.
"No, nothing's wrong. Just had to check on some things." Forcing a smile, she moved over to the bed and sat on the edge, one of her hands going out to cover one of his. Clearing his throat, he waved the free hand in a dismissive gesture, trying to reassure her that he was all right. Bleeding, but all right. "I'm proud of ya, Ari. Can't believe my little girl got her own club in the Quarter. It's tough business there." That smile of hers became even more forced as she listened to him, the pride in his voice prominent and heavy. If he knew the way that she had acquired the club, Ari had the distinct feeling he wouldn't be so quick to congratulate her.
After a few moments of silence, he cleared his throat again and shifted on the bed. "There's a few things that we need to talk about before.. well, ya know.. and there ain't no better time than now. I don't know what your Mama told you when I left..." So. It was already time for that conversation. Pushing up from the bed, she grabbed a chair from by the window and tugged it over closer so she could listen. He waited until she got settled to continue, a heavy frown tugging the corners of his mouth down. "I gambled.. I drank... I did some things that you ain't supposed to while in the confines of marriage..." His eyes went downcast then, hands fiddling absently the handkerchief still grasped tightly. "I loved your Mama, don't get me wrong, but ... things happen that you can't control..."
Ari broke off his words with a faint laugh, her head shaking from side to side. "That's something you don't have to tell me." Leaning up to reach into her pocket, a crumpled pack of cigarettes was unearthed, and she offered him one. Timothy declined, so she lit one up for herself. Ari had the feeling she might need something to brace her nerves during the conversation, and there wasn't any alcohol in the house. He had quit a few months ago, but the damage had already been done to his body. "I know about the gambling and drinking.... I was young, but not stupid. You and Mere had a way of fighting so the whole neighborhood could hear, and I was only a few feet away.."
He nodded with that. "Yeah. You weren't home the night I left... at some friend's house or somethin'. That's neither here nor there, though. I came home, flat busted and drunk outta my head. Gisselle told me she had enough of my ways and told me to get ta packin'." He glanced up to Ari and grinned faintly, shoulders lifting in a shrug. "Your Mama was a fearsome woman. I thought it best to do what she said. Figured she'd cool down in a day or two, like always, and I'd come home. 'Cept when I came back home, she had the law take me outta the house...." His voice faded off after that, and the look he turned on her was searching. ".... when did she die?"
That single question.. it held so much hurt. So much.. emotion... Even after Gisselle turning him out, cutting him out of both her and her daughter's lives.. he loved her. Tears welled up in Ari's eyes as she watched him, her chin tucking down towards her chest. It took a minute or so for her to answer, and even then, her voice cracked. It was painful to think back on it. "About seven years ago.. she just got tired, I think.." A shrug then. "She'd been sick for awhile, but we didn't have the money to take her to a doctor. Not like she would've gone anyway.." A grin. "If the healers in the parish couldn't take care of it, nobody could. That's a direct quote." The humour faded after a moment, and she lifted her eyes back to his. "There was never anybody after you though. She said she had her one try at love, and that was all she wanted. The only man in her life was the Good Lord. Another direct quote."
It was amazing how one little sentence could make him feel so much better. There was never anybody after you. With the way things ended between him and Gisselle, that was all he could've hoped for. "There wasn't anybody else after her either." he admitted quietly, his chin lifting a bit as his eyes turned towards the ceiling. "She threw her weddin' ring at me that last time." Even as he spoke, he reached into the collar of his shirt and drew out a thin chain; the ring dangling on the end. "Said she didn't want it. That I could use it to gamble with, or sell for booze. Couldn't get rid of it, though....." Another coughing fit hit him; this one strong enough to bring his shoulders off of the bed. Turning his head to the side as he wiped his mouth, he muttered a few words to Ari, "I think it's time to turn in for the night.. I'll talk to you in the mornin'."
Nodding, she used the arms of the chair as leverage to push herself up. "Yeah, you need your rest. I'll be down the hall if you need me for anything." Leaning over him, a kiss was pressed to his cheek before she began walking towards the door. Pausing, the overhead light was turned off so that he could sleep comfortably. Another cough sounded before he glanced over her way, though she was little more than an outline in the doorway from the light in the hallway. "I love ya, Ari girl. Sleep well."
A pause. ".. you too, Papa. Night."
---
It was raining the day they put Timothy Paul deBurgh into the ground. Of course it was raining, Ari thought bitterly, the umbrella she held over her shoulder given a shake to rid the water from it. Everyone had left the cemetery an hour or so ago, but for some reason that she couldn't quite put her finger on ... she couldn't leave. The tent over the grave kept the dirt from turning into muck, and with a glance over her shoulder, she approached the fresh mound. Umbrella deposited to the ground, the rain drops splattering on her face and shoulders were given about as much notice as the chilling wind whipping through the fabric of her mourning dress.
The over hanging tent shielded the rain as she stepped under it, but the wind kept blowing; biting against her face and hands with an intensity that made her shiver. " Well... " Inhaling deeply, words died off after only the first one, and she dropped to her knees in the mixture of grass and dirt still scattered beside the grave. " At least we got to say goodbye. " That was the extent of what she could think to say to him, now. They'd said everything that needed to be out in the open during the times when he had been awake long enough to hold a conversation.
She never thought it would hurt as much as it did, watching someone she barely knew die. Then came the knowledge that the sickly, wan person lying in front of you, possibly inhaling their last breath.. was your father. Even with the abandonment, even with the wrongs he had done in his life when he had been a part of hers... he was her father.
* * * * *
The day had started off like the rest since she had been in St. Louis; as time as she crawled out of bed, there had been just enough time for a quick bath before she dressed and scooted to her father's room. As time as Arianna stepped into the room, though, she knew.. this day was different. Instead of looking tired and worn - as he had for the past couple of weeks - there was a flush of color to his cheeks, a sparkle to his jaundiced eyes, and an overall feeling of relaxation radiated from him.
He was dying.. literally dying right in front of her eyes...
A feeling gripped tightly in the base of her stomach, and it took several moments of simply staring at him to realize.. it was fear. He'd been out of her life for so long, and now that he had finally came back in.. he was going to die. Of course, she knew this before even leaving New Orleans, but being faced with the reality of it was .. chilling. " Something wrong, Ari? " The question was asked so quietly, that she almost asked him to repeat himself. Her tongue felt as if it had been glued to the roof of her mouth, and she had to pry it down before she could answer. " N-no. Everything's fine.."
Forcing a smile to back up her response, the space between her and the bed was closed in short order, and she settled carefully on the edge beside him. Reaching over and clasping one of her hands in his, Timothy smiled up at her reassuringly. " I ain't gonna see tomorrow, Ari girl.." Before she could protest, he shook his head and gave a pat to the hand he held, gently and silently asking her to let him finish. " There's no use sugar coatin' it; we both knew this day was comin'. I'm just glad I got to see you. "
Almost as if it were something you could physically feel, the tension in the room raised a couple of notches as he watched her, his expression pensive. Coughing quietly, Timothy wiped his hand across the back of his mouth before he pushed up out of the bed; ignoring her ofference for help as he stumbled a bit. " I've got some things I wantcha to have, before you leave St. Louis.. and if I don't give 'em to ya now, you won't ever see 'em. " This was said to her over his shoulder as he made his way to the wardrobe on the far side of the wall; the doors slung open with little fanfair before he began rummaging inside.
" The things in this box.. these are the only things that I have in the world that ... well... " Wincing a bit as he turned back to the bed, the box he spoke of her was cradled in both arms - almost tenderly - as he walked over to her. Without another word, the whole lot was deposited into her lap before he settled onto the bed beside her. " Ain't nothin' but some pictures and the like. You probably don't even want 'em, but it'd mean a lot to me if you'd just -- " Words were cut off sharply by a coughing fit, and before she could turn to ask if he was alright, he fell back on the bed; a hand over his mouth.
A trail of blood seeped from between his fingers - a bright crimson smear that contrasted vividly with the sudden paleness of his skin. Shoving the box onto the bed, it was left forgotten as she ran for the phone. By the time the ambulance got to the house, his breathing was labored; sharp hitching gasps echoing through the room. All Ari could do was sit beside him on the bed and hold his hand; tears streaming down her cheeks as she worked at offering him a bit of comfort. Unceremoniously shoved out of the way by a pair of paramedics, the world seemed to tip as those hitching gasps began quieting off.
He never even made it to the hospital. His final moments had been spent in the back of an ambulance; his daughter off to the side of the stretcher, still holding his hand, and a paramedic sitting at the foot of the stretcher, staring his way solemly.
* * * * *
Pushing up to her feet, one final glance was given down to the grave. The balled up tissue in her hand was lifted to brush against her cheeks to rid the moisture there she hadn't even been aware she shed, and without another word... she walked away. She had come to St. Louis with nothing but vague memories of a man that had been out of the house more than he had been in, and she was leaving with the knowledge that .. she was proud to call Timothy Paul deBurgh, father.
The box he had given her was situated in the trunk of the taxi that was taking her to the train station; settled among her bags to take back home. Home. Swallowing thickly, Ari knew that she could board that train with no regrets to leave behind. There was someone back home that she wanted to see, more than she wanted to breathe.
Everything else could wait until then.
-
February, 1941
Tom said she wasn't coming back.
God only knows what he thought now.. She had promised - promised - that she would come back to him. There was no telling what the news did to him. Inspection of the fun house only led to one conclusion. The absolute worst had happened. Splintered shards of glass everywhere, candy coated in red blood... Bullets decorating the floor as if some hair brained interior designer thought the look was noveau. There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't get rid of.
And what the fuck was the deal with Stilks? He'd gone from staying as far away from her as remotely possible, up to standing beside her, to .. touching her. The kicker was, that Pete could see him! Up until now, Tom and everyone else thought she had been losing her mind because she talked to shadows that weren't there... and all of a sudden, everyone can see him and he's touchy feely? Something was very amiss.
She threatened Tom.
The only friend she ever had that stuck around, didn't screw her over, or try to kill her, had finally crossed that line. Her personal business was her own, and no one interfered. Up until, Tom had been grouped into that category, but now? She could barely look at the man without wanting to empty a few rounds into his head. How could he do that to her? He knew how she felt about Orin, and to tell a blatant lie like that, just to get him away? The world seemed to not make sense anymore.
Everything was out of proportion. Distorted. Like looking through the bottom of a glass, and then turning it like a kaleidoscope. The feeling of utter betrayal she felt when confronted with the knowledge of what he had done.. it outweighed everything bad that had ever happened to her. Almost being raped. Beaten to near death. Shot. Stabbed. All of that paled in comparison to his one folly. Folly.. what a polite, neat term for it. Major fuck up was more like it.
Orin was gone.
She couldn't find him anywhere. Ari was starting to feel like her world had been ripped from underneath her, and no matter how much she tried to brace herself.. she just kept falling. Falling, falling.. like Alice down the rabbit hole. All she needed was for the Dormouse to pop out of a whiskey bottle, and for the Queen to burst through the doors and yell "Off with her head!" At the moment, all of it would make perfect sense. Hell, she'd even volunteer to have her head lopped off. What good was it doing her, attached to her body, anyway?
The day she buried her father, she had boarded the first train back for him. To see him, be near him... just to hear his voice. All of that had been ripped away by the acts of one very selfish, very blind person. She wanted to scream, cry, beat her fists on the ground and wail about how life had done her wrong. But above all of that, she wanted.. Orin. So much that she couldn't eat, sleep, or function like she was supposed to since she couldn't find him.
Giovanni was back.
Oh, yes, he was back, and he was upset. The news of the club's new ownership had reached him very quickly, and he wasted no time in coming to her and letting her know that he wasn't happy. Insults were many. Sarcasm was plenty. She had what he wanted, and he'd kill people to get it back. She offered the club back to him on a silver platter, but yet there were more threats. Ari wasn't naive enough to think that things would be peachy keen whenever he got back, but his level of anger was frightening.
She had even admitted to being scared of him. Why lie about it? He was a very imposing figure with less than honest ways of getting what he wanted. She knew he had killed people before, both because of vendettas, and out of spite. She wasn't "under his protection" anymore, and that was the main reason she was scared out of her wits. Any moment, she expected one of his goons to appear - or hell, even him - and pop a cap through her skull.
The entire world had gone mad.
-
February, 1941
The darkened skyline of the city was barely visible from the house she had purchased so many months ago. The only hint that she was near civilization was the faint orange-ish glow on the horizon that was produced by the neon lights of the Quarter. Here, the only sounds to disturb the pristine night were the chirps of cicadas, and the occasional hoot of an owl. The night seemed to have procured another source of light. Candles, forming a complete circle around the figure in the midst of them, flickered and struggled to maintain their grasp on life as the wind tried to assassinate them. Little did Nature know that though She may try, the flames would not be extinguished until she said they were to be; and not a moment before.
Tucking the fabric of her rather full skirt around her knees as she knelt, something was set to the ground before she tilted her face heavenwards - arms lifting in the same direction as if she were giving some sort of unseen offering. The wind suddenly flared to life, though oddly enough, those candles didn't even give the hint of flickering this time. Hair was whipped wildly across her face as she kept it averted towards the stars, and a faint smile curved the corners of her mouth. It had been so long since she had even tried this, she wasn't sure it'd even work.
As her arms lowered, so did the gust of wind, until there was nothing left but a rather small breeze sweeping over the lands; winter's bite seemingly showing no effect the woman in her thin dress and bare feet. A sheet of paper was produced, and without a pause, it was stretched out to the nearest candle. As it caught the flame and began smoldering into little more than ash, it was only released when the fire reached her fingertips. The gnarled, smutty vestiges of paper caught what wind was left and drifted off to God knows where. It knew what it's destination was, even if the one setting it free didn't.
Without giving a second glance towards the scattering ash, her attention was diverted to the box resting amid the high grass at her feet. It had been nearly two weeks since Timothy had given it to her, and not once had the lid been opened. In the protective circle - here in the wilderness that she had spent her childhood - it seemed to be the idyllic time to see what was inside. Giving a shove to the sleeves of her dress, she knelt back down onto the ground, and reached carefully for the object; fingers trailing over the smooth wood almost reverently. What ever was inside, had been her father's, and with certain things brought to light recently, she felt privileged to be allowed inside.
The hoot of an owl close by had her head shooting up, just as she was opening the box, and a smile as old as Eve appeared. "Sir Owl, impart your wisdom upon the things inside," was whispered quietly as her gaze dropped back down, and without hesitation, the lid was opened. The first thing Ari noticed was the musty smell emitting from the interior; as if it hadn't been opened in a very long time. The wood of the box was smooth - almost like silk - which indicated it had been taken care of, but the memories inside were left forgotten. Photographs were scattered inside, various other pictures crafted by a child's hand, and a few other objects rattled about as she lifted it to her lap.
One of the photographs was removed carefully; a finger sliding carefully over the images embossed on the paper. The very young image of Gisselle and Timothy smiled back up at her - the small swell that was her mother's stomach drawing her attention. Setting that one back in the box, a handful of photos were taken up as she rocked back to sit on her heels; each picture studied intently. The memories some of the images brought back were painful - but for the most part, there was a content air around Ari. Family pictures were plentiful; photographic progression from the swell of her mother's pregnant stomach up to an eight year old Arianna. The outline of the house she grew up in was prominent in most of the pictures, and a feeling of homesickness hit her. It had been so long since she'd set foot near that place...
With a sigh, that handful was set down before she reached in for another; the expression on her face turning flat with the next series of photos. The gentlemen fanned out around her father had been forgotten during the passage of time, but suddenly every moment of that time came back to hit her like a sledgehammer. Mickey.. Ralph... Davey.. Only a few of the names came to mind as she gave a once over to each of the men; a certain figure off to the side gaining her attention quite easily. He looked so familiar.. but she couldn't place him... Brows furrowed as she thought; her chin tucking down towards her chest as if to help the brain process.
Setting the picture beside her on the semi-damp grass, she decided to come back to that one later as another photo was removed, and this time, tears welled up in her eyes. It was a picture of two small, very young girls, standing side by side. Neither one looked like they wanted to stand still for the picture, but the smaller of the two was smiling brightly towards the camera. As if she knew this was her moment in time to be remembered, later on. Ari's mouth formed a small O as the name of the girl came to mind, and all she could do was simply stare at the picture. She had been about.. seven when it had been taken, and Lily had been about five. The two had been forced to play together while their fathers 'took care of business' inside the house. Ari was always upset that she couldn't be a part of what was going on, and her frustrations were usually taken out on the little girl.
There was no violence - no, Ari hadn't developed that streak yet - but she had always been bossy. We have to play this, because I said so. We have to do this, because I'm older. And Lily never complained. She'd just smile that sweet smile of hers and happily go along with whatever Ari wanted. Ari had never told the girl that she was her only friend. She didn't have very many growing up - if any - and regardless of that pouting and whining when Timothy said it was 'time to go to town', she always looked forward to seeing Lily.
Ari never knew what happened to her. Timothy had left town, and that had been the end of her visits to the girl's house. Gisselle didn't allow her to go anywhere near that place. "A bad man lives there, Ari. You stay as far away from there as you can, ya hear?" Of course she heard, and of course she obeyed. A mad Gisselle deBurgh was something you did not want. Still holding onto the photo of her and Lilly, she reached down to pick up the other picture to study it; brows still furrowed in concentration.
Then, as if a bolt of lightning had struck her, her head shot up. She remembered the man now, as clear as day. He had been Lily's father; a person that Ari had never particularly care for. He always seemed so .. mean and cold. Except to Lily. It was all smiles and love when it came to Lily..... Bloody hell, why did he look so familiar - other than her memory of who he was - and what the hell was his name?! Just as quickly as recognition had hit, the name came to her out of no where....
...... Michael.
-
[ Live play ]
Orin The Jest: It was raining in New Orleans. The wet patter of heavy fat drops echoed through the otherwise nearly silent carnival grounds. The dark drops rolled off the hat and fell toward the sand-dirt pathway. A gloved hand lifted to pull the veil of his mask from his nose and mouth, eyes narrowing at the silent standing structures. The place looked even more decrepit and devoid of life than it ever had, even when it was inhabited it's ever captive owner. It seemed devoid of that spark of old life it had, had when Orin dwelled behind the black and white candy-striped doubled doors. What the hell he was doing here... he wasn't exactly sure. Searching for something perhaps. One can only be curious about another person who's been living in your body for the past however-so-many years. He'd asked Ari all he thought he could get away with asking without seeming too interested or eager to bring it up. There was only so much he was willing to risk if he was to bring up Orin, which he hated to do. He hated the son-of-a-bitch and they'd only crossed paths on various and sporadic occasions. What the hell kind of place was this? What the hell kind of person lived here? Existed here... whatever it was. He had to admit (only to himself) the thought of what kind of person was unnerving... even to him. God only knows what had possessed Ari's fascination with Bizzaro the Insane. Selling this place would bring money but only for the worth of the land this skeleton sat on. Every second that passed as he stared at it (and it seemed to stare back grudgingly) torching it started to sound real nice. Wouldn't be hard...
Lessons Iearned: Of all the nights for it to be raining, it just had to be this one. It was a force of habit to park her car the mile or so away as she usually did, and walk to the Carnival grounds. Unfortunately for her, she didn't bring a hat, so Ari was starting to look like a drowned gutter rat. Or, rather, she had bypassed the starting and gone straight to drowning. Shoulders hunched beneath the flimsy fabric of her jacket; it did little in regard to the weather. Why am I here? The question kept pounding through her head, only there wasn't an actual answer. Just a hope, a prayer, and a fervent wish. With the Quarter gearing up for Mardi Gras ? which was starting up in a week or so ? the noise had been too much. It was quiet out here; always was. The talks with Michael always left her curious, if not dazzled in the sense of why he was asking those things from her. About Orin, no less. It wasn't a fascination with Orin, it wasn't a wonderment of what was going through that head of his. What did she see in him? It was more of a question of what she didn't see in him. Tucking her chin down towards her chest, the coat was pulled even more firmly around her as the entry way came up. Ducking the wire seemed second nature, as did wandering up that path. It was slow in coming to realize she wasn't alone in her wandering towards the Carnival, but there wasn't any hope that it was who she wanted.
Orin The Jest: He'd removed one of the black gloves from a grim and austere looking hand, as white as ivory. It was held out beneath the moonlight (what of it could reach through the clumpy cloud cover). He rotated it around and dim emeralds roamed it's surface as if he could hardly come to grips that it was his hand. It wasn't. And the flicker of that red light which had so long gone unspoken of itself on the outer wall of the funhouse, let him know it. The angry color strobed the white flesh until those sharp eyes were raised at it with a glare. That's it ... this place had to go. Maybe then he'd be rid of the insanity. he'd be rid of this demon. he could talk some sense into Ari. Sense which had been chased away from her... That's what Tim would want him to do. At least that's what he kept telling himself. His glance turned back down to his hand white as sin. He could remember bits and pieces of how it happened...but not the end. One second you're lying in the grass having a happy bleed to death... and the next- you're in someone's house. Dying in a- his foot scuffed the gravel as he whirled around to face the path he'd taken. well...actually...he faced his newly arrived company. The hand was quickly pulled back and tucked into it's glove. "...following me?"
Lessons Iearned: His thought pattern had lovely irony. For how many months was it, that he had helped chase away what sense she thought she had, and now he wanted to save her? Everyone was always trying to save her, without asking .. her input. Mere thought it best that Timothy left. Liza thought it best that she get rid of her baby. Gio thought it best to get rid of everybody that looked her way. Tom thought it best that Orin left. Sensing a pattern here? And now, it was dear old Michael's turn. A shame that he had to be the last in line. Using the sleeve of her jacket to wipe away the rain from her face, eyes half squinted in the gloom to try and make out his figure. "Perhaps. Trying to see how the other half lives?" returned caustically, her head tilting to the side as she paused a few feet away from him.
Orin The Jest: He watched her after that question. She hadn't expected an answer, he knew that. Just like he had expected something like that from her. Some sort of comment to let him know he was guilty of doing her this great wrong. For a moment he thought it best to not speak, then he opted for being snide. "If you can call it living. What about you?" he asked in that "attack" mode he pulled whenever something made him uncomfortable between the two of them. "...think you'll find him here again?" Battle mode. How else could he deal with it. She was always going to be looking for him. She as always going to keep returning to this looney bin. Even if he did burn it down...he could see her paying homage to it like some sort of grave. Still... seeing it all in flames on the horizon still sounded good to him. He hated this place and this was really only his second visit.
Lessons Iearned: Of course she didn't expect an answer. It was a routine that was becoming a bit too 'regular' for her tastes. She asked questions, he avoided them. Sarcasm was traded. If she hadn't know what she did, it might've been amusing but at the moment, the only thing Ari was finding funny was the fact that they were in this situation. It was that macabre type of humour that only someone who understood misery and failure, could appreciate. "He is here," was said as her eyes left him to travel over the land. He may have wanted to burn it down, but it'd happen over her dead body. She had all night with nothing to do, and he didn't have all day. "But I can always hope that he gets out." Smiling rather vacantly, steps picked up as she moved to bypass him, and wander over towards the carousel. Another bit of irony for you, there.
Orin The Jest: He was never one who was used to the sting of words. How much can a five year old say that can break your heart when you're her world? Little girls grow up though ...and boy had Ari grown up. She grew into a tongue that was a knife. If "he is here" hadn't been enough of a slap ...her implying that she was keeping the miserable loon a prisoner or something. "You think he wants to come back? Don't you think he would have by now?" Every inch she bypassed him was another raise of the temper meter. A gloved hand shot out to roughly turn her to face him and hold her there. "You think I keep him "in"? ..You think the fucked up son-of-a-bitch ever gave a damn about anything other than his playing cards?" Eyes were fierce with hatred for this other entity. "Where was he the night you got this?" A forceful but not a violent tilt of her head in order to point out the scar on her throat.
Lessons Iearned: If her words stung, it was simply because the truth hurt? Ari hadn't grown into anything; she merely turned into what she had to be, to survive. That's what it was all about, anyway, wasn't it? Survival of the fittest and all that bullshit. Instead of trying to yank her arm away from him when it was grabbed, the heels of her shoes slid a bit in the muddy sludge the land had turned into with the ran as she came to the halt he wanted her to. "What I think is that he does want to come back, but he's being forced down like some kind of fucking bad memory that you don't want to deal with." The odd science behind why Michael was in the forefront and Orin was in the backseat was still hazy but like Mike said. She was a smart girl, at times. She knew some of how Orin was; some of the things he couldn't handle. The way he had made her promise to come back to him .. nobody could tell her that he didn't want to be there with her. Call it a self-inflated ego, or just call it common perception. When her chin was lifted to expose the still slightly puckered ? though finally starting to fade away ? mark on her throat, teeth gritted together in an effort not to spit out some smart ass remark. Let's see how he liked the truth of it. "Because he couldn't be there, that's why. Because he was in a fucking ditch that I had to put him in AFTER somebody plugged him 12 times." Still not jerking away, one of her hands lifted enough to wrap firmly around the wrist of the hand holding her head. "Let me shoot you that many times and see how well you can get up."
Orin The Jest: A pause as he glared down at her. Funny... he had Orin's features, his face, and his hair but you could tell at a glance it wasn't him. Different people held themselves differently but with Michael... it was even in his eyes. You might have said they could have been brothers but not even twins. I guess it shows different Souls inhabit the body differently. But besides that, Ari, at the moment was pushing all the wrong buttons, or maybe all the right ones...depending on the response she was looking for. Anger was boiling but it wasn't enough to spill over. He gave her a light but rough backward shove while releasing her wrist back to her. She might as well have shot him twelve times. Fine... if she was going to go that route. Fine. If she thought some sob story of something she shared with ole-whack-de-loon was going to move him.... Silence. "You don't even hold a gun right."
Lessons Iearned: It wasn't a sob story for pity. It was simply the truth. When he released her arm so roughly - followed by the light shove - it didn't take much for her to lose her footing again. After all, she had just slipped, and that was when being pulled to a stop. In a moment of absolute, stunning grace, she fell to the ground, rear first. Hands were planted on either side of her in the muck to help prop herself up, but she didn't make a move to stand. No, his last little comment -- oddly enough -- struck a nerve. "Want to find out?" was bit out, tears of nothing more than remorse filling her eyes. The way things were going, she wasn't ever going to see Orin again, and in that moment, she damned Michael to hell for the second ( if not more? ) time. "I don't care if all he cares about are those stupid cards that don't make sense, because I love him." A hand slipping in the mud, a sound of frustration was made before she slapped her hands down more firmly. Under other circumstances, you'd think she was patting out mud pies.
Orin The Jest: He hadn't meant to put her on the ground but as long as she was down there he might as well make it look like he had. He felt better about it with her down there, but it was only because he felt worse. She'll accept the nut-job who could do no better than put a hole in his head...but reject him. This whole fucking place made no sense. Did he want to find out? "Try it... we'll exchange a few and see which one of us walks away..." Tear her apart. She'll give in if you intimidate her enough. She'll back down... she'll- "Love him?" Disbelief.he honestly hadn't heard her right because he was too busy threatening her.
Lessons Iearned: If this night got any better, she'd go toss herself into the nearest lake. Not only had she been soaked to the core because of some stupid idea to walk there, but now she semi - looked like a mud monster. A rueful glance was given down to the white - or what had been white - shirt now half brown / half black with mud, and a curse left her. Something along the lines of `'motherfuckdamnitalltohellinafuckinghandbasket'. She was creative. "If I had a gun on me, I'd sure as hell try, you .. you... " For someone that had been inventive a moment ago, she was coming up at a loss for what to call him. Tears were clogging her throat, her hands felt icky with the squishy mud, and she .. wanted.. a.. cigarette. "And yes, love him. I didn't stutter." Heave - ho -lift, and she was using the ground as leverage to push herself up to her feet at last. A bit dirty, a bit weepy, but none the worse for wear.
Orin The Jest: "You're nuts." Gun drawn from somewhere within that coat of his. It was brandished clear out in the open, held at arms length and aimed for her head. Can't have 'er bub. What are you gonna do now? Pause like that. Taking your time like this. "..I should be so generous to do this favor for you." He muttered with a snide growl which was deep, it was just enough to cover the voice he couldn't find for the words. Difficult. Had aiming a gun at someone's head ever been so fucking trying? He'd never seen her cry... but something was telling him neither had anybody else... put her out of her misery. Add one more to the list. Might as well... what's stopping you?
Lessons Iearned: They'd done this before in another life... Except it had been Orin pointing the gun at her. Couldn't remember the details right offhand; she was too busy staring at the gun leveled at her. Using the back of her hand to wipe beneath one of her eyes, she was almost oblivious to the fact that she was further enhancing the Mud Pie Ari persona. "I very well might be," agreement met his words almost solemnly, her voice coming out more choked than she cared for it to be. "And if you want to," still spoken in that voice that didn't seem quite like her as she walked forward towards him, ".. go ahead, because I'd rather not be here, if he's not going to be here either." De'ja vu. It was so strong at the moment. Walking right on up to him until the gun barrel was less than an inch from her head, she only stopped then; eyes that were still a bit watery staring blankly - almost dead like already - at him.
Orin The Jest: The gun in his hand was a quaking mess...that is until her brow was there to steady it for him. He wouldn't look her in the eye. His eyes, his focus was where the barrel of the gun met with her forehead. He didn't want to... he didn't want to take either... but he really didn't want to take this one. She wanted him here that fucking much... Fuck her. Fuck him. Fuck the both of them... "One night," was all he found himself saying. His gaze remained pinpointed at that spot where the gun's mouth nestled against her. "Just promise me one night." He didn't want questions. He didn't want long answers, he didn't want explanations. He wanted a yes. "Yes or no." He couldn't have pulled the trigger now even if he thought he could...but it was more likely that he'd get a yes if he kept it there. "Yes or no!" Impatient aren't we? The question was a hard one to ask... the less he had to dwell in it's open window the better.
Lessons Iearned: For a brief moment - while he was having the mental debate with himself - Ari wondered what it'd be like to die. To just close your eyes, and never have to wake up. Was there really a Heaven or a Hell? A God and a Devil? Or was it just a blank void of blackness. Of nothingness. The more she thought on it, the more she realized that she was living in that nothingness. So it didn't matter. If he wanted to shoot, he could. If he wanted her dead, all he ha-- "What?" One night... what was he talking about? Snap out of it, Ari. The second rather impatient question of yes or no made her jump; the cool feel of the metal pressing just a bit closer to home with the movement. Fuck it. Fuck him. "..yes." The word was barely audible. "Yes," replied in an even more firm of tone, though at the moment, she could've been agreeing to her own execution and not have known it.
Orin The Jest: The gloved hand opened as if her answer had released him from holding her hostage. The gun fell heavy like lead only to imprint itself sloppily in the soppy mud. He looked down on her finally then. One night it was then. That's all he needed. That's all that was left for him here besides a little unfinished business. A dark liquid threatened to spill from his eyes. He closed them. It fell warm like liquid back metal tracing it's pattern slowly downward in the wake of it's path. The blood was like black ink in the low light and overhang of the clouds. The thick liquid made it's Harlequin pattern against the stark white line of each cheekbone. The knit in his brow left him and the emeralds re-focused on her. " ...." What a sight to wake up on. Not only was it raining but here before him was Mad Mud Pie Ari herself. He had the distinct feeling he'd just been talking to her. ...what the hell had he just said. Holy fries Batman... was she crying? He was hoping against hope he hadn't lapsed into some nutsoid comment he had no conscious control over. Open mouth insert foot-kind. "... Ari? ... why are you crying?" And why've you been rolling around in the mud. One question at a time. Who knows...maybe he was lucky and this was some kinda kinky sex role play. He tucked a hand behind his back and crossed his fingers.
Lessons Iearned: God only knows what she had just agreed to. One night. Then again, she didn't want to know. Yes, Mad Mud Pie Ari looked like something that had crawled out of the Black Lagoon at the moment; hair stringy and plastered to her head, mud streaking every available body part, as well as the majority of her clothes... When the gun dropped to the ground, her eyes followed it as if it was moving in slow motion. Her name.... his brow was unknitting, but hers was in the process of knitting when she finally comprehended someone was saying her name. Glancing up with a startled movement, the realization that it wasn't just someone.... Muddy or not, crying or not, wanted or not, her next movement couldn't have been stopped with a net, a tranquilizer dart, and a bullet, all put together. The rather short distance was closed in a matter of nanoseconds as she threw her arms around his neck and began sobbing like a little kid that had just found out there really was a Santa Claus, after having been told he never existed.
Orin The Jest: Blink. With the unexpected lunge he was jarred down slightly due to their distinct height differences. Arms flailed slightly with his obliviousness to everything and it only took another nanosecond on his part to enfold his arms around her. He pulled her in with a tug, not remembering right away the circumstances of their being apart... but just the feeling that they had....for quite a while. When you wake up it's seldom you remember what you dreamed last... it can take a few moments or even an hour before it dawns on you. Right now, holding Ari was the most important thing he'd ever done. He'd never held her while she cried, hell.. he'd never seen he cry let alone sob. He didn't understand at the moment...but then again it didn't matter. True...they were both covered in mud now as a result of the Mud Pie Ari/ Wack-de-loon reunion. That meant that they'd just have to get out of these dirty clothes later right? He liked his way of thinking.
<font color="#95542E" size="1">[ May 31, 2006 01:11 AM: Message edited by: vintage faith ]</font>
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<center>http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y21...e/arianna2.jpg
They say the Queen of Hearts,
don't play fair,
they say she cheats at will.
The stakes are high,
and though you try,
you can't quite fit the bill.
Of all the cards,
close to her heart,
the King's not the one you'd think.
The Joker smiling and beguiling
can cause her heart to sink.
From Deuce to Ace,
the cards are dealt.
One wrong move,
a bullet's felt.
The Queen wants to murder time,
the Hatter says it's two days wrong.
Off with their heads,
in a loud tone of voice,
is always her same old song</center>
( poem copyright of the mun )
