Lady Jezebel
The sheer fabric of the canopy bed clung to her body as she moved silently to the edge of the king-sized mattress, the creamy lingerie piece sticking like a second skin to her curvaceous form, almost overripe in all the right places, supple breasts nearly falling from the bodice as she stretched luxuriously and practically purred with pleasure. Dark ebony hair, normally falling to her chin straightly, save for where it curled under at the ends, now the raven locks stood out in disarray that fairly screamed indecent exposure. Glittering jade eyes peered out from a heart-shaped face, sooty lashes framing Asian features, high and graceful cheekbones and full, delicious lips the shade of rubies, a complexion of apple blossoms dawning on her face as she stepped into a pool of sunshine falling through the grand window facing the rising sun. Closing her eyes, she ran her tongue over her upper lip and sighed exquisitely, flexing her long, slender fingers the way a cat extends her claws, expertly manicured nails painted a color that shimmered in the sunlight.
With a heavier sigh, filled with lost chances and broken promises, she dropped to her haunches and bowed her head to her chest, lower lip trembling slightly as she closed her eyes tight, her small, delicate hands balled into fists, nails digging into her palms with nearly enough force to draw blood, which indeed her teeth did to her lip to cease the tremor running through her. From outside, there came soft, piping birdsong as the wind blew gently through the lush greenery, the world alight with life and joy, herself a stranger in a strange land, forbidden emotions surfacing, threatening the shatter the cracked illusion she persisted in using, her world thrown into a tumultuous upheaval as she gave up the fight and collapsed upon the ground, shaking like a leaf on a blustery day as she sobbed bitterly, curling into a fetal ball as she pounded on the smooth marble floor with fists weakened by the feelings surging within and the effort extended to keep herself locked up tight inside. Her breath came in ragged, harsh little gasps as her silent wails deterred and her weeping died away.
It was hard, so very hard, to start each day …someone slept on in the great bed she had just exited, some stranger, a face she didn't know. No matter, this was routine now, just another dirty little aspect of her days hidden away from the public eye, part of her secret life that she refused to slip up and show, besides, it wasn't like anyone would think differently of her. She, whose loyalty was as fragile as the wings of a butterfly in the hands of a small, mean little boy, she, whose word was law or rumor to different ears, who could only be trusted at a price and even then the chances of betrayal were high. She, a thief, a bandit, a rogue, a shadow that would stain the world should an innocent eye catch the play of the light upon her phantom world. In her line of work, all that mattered was staying alive from one day to the next, and if you were still alive when you woke up, you had beaten the game for another round, but the best must surely come, right? All her life, she had been downtrodden, rejected by society from her earliest days, neglected by her mother – a whore and a wretch – and hurt by her father – a gambler and abusive man – in ways she still could not understand. So she had taken what she had and made due, scraping through life on meager wages, living in squalor until a new job came up …that is, until she had damned the foolish child she had been and decided to give the world a taste of the fruit she was forced to savor. If this was all she'd have to work with, then, goddamn them all, she'd amount to something! And she had, she was respected in all corners, hunted in most and hated in some and everyone came to her when they could swallow their pride enough to pay her price. Of course, she'd have to be far from the range of their weapons within moments after she given the information she'd been sent to gather, or more often, the artifact she'd been recruited to steal.
Women turned away when they caught sight of her, never mind if they didn't know who she was, they knew her type and that was bad enough. Men ignored their distaste to ogle her goods instead, always daring or perhaps hoping that there might come a day when they were worthy to share a bed with the elusive Jezebel Jade Kenyon. There were decent enough folk she had encountered, Race Bannon for instance, and the Quests, and she admired Estella Velasquez, the fiery redheaded woman was her equal in spirit, temper and seduction. Who else but they could lure Race Bannon from duty and honor and keep him bound, metaphorically of course, for so long? Certainly none of his other ex-girlfriends, oh no, only she and his ex-wife. Though Estella was a vexatious person, Jade was proud of her as well, there were too few women in the world the likes of them, although Jessica Anne Bannon – daughter of Estella and Race – was showing serious promise.
She took a deep breath and rose uncertainly, eyes a stormy shade of green as another shudder ran through her and she repressed another sigh, moving swiftly to the chest at the foot of the expansive bed and drawing out an outfit befitting one of her stature, a pair of black Capri pants and a tank-top of army green, her hand stilled as something cool and metallic and dangerously familiar fell into her hand. A pair of dog tags, a pair of dog tags that belonged to a certain ex-SEAL, ex-Intelligence One Agent whom she knew very well. Her breath caught in her throat and she clenched her hand around the cool metal identification, holding her hand to her chest. Letting her breath out in a noise gasp, she staggered and fell against the chest. She shook her head violently to clear it and dressed quickly, moving then to the balcony overlooking the gardens and hopped easily onto the railing, disappearing as soon as she leapt into the vibrant foliage without ever looking back.
* * *
Lady Jezebel
Waking up in the morning
not quite sure how you fell asleep in the first place,
with only the rumpled sheets beside you
and the sticky sense that you've exposed your dark side again
to remind you of the events that had just taken place.
But you've gotten used to that,
it's not like you deserve better anyway, right?
Then you're off to see the world,
hiding behind an image you know people will accept--
an image that isn't you, at all.
But contrary to what you think,
there are people exactly like you,
masquerading behind their own character of choice.
Don't think you can fool your own kind,
they've been around long enough
to translate the look on your face,
and unfortunately for you,
they have big mouths.
Better not get into the habit of hiding,
because you're going to get pushed to the middle of the circle
and the crowd is going to want answers.
You could probably explain yourself,
it's all psychological, I'm sure,
but don't think that's going to save you now.
So while you're lying there,
instead of trying to recollect the events of the night before,
better start learning to love yourself,
because sooner than you realize,
the world will not.
* * *
Jade shoved her way past the last-minute shoppers who filled the streets. From the external speakers of a mall came a garbled version of Holy Night, horribly paired with the constant ringing of the bells by social rejects forced to toll bells as an act to the community. A little girl with pigtails and green eyes bright with greed stood alone on the sidewalk, her red nose running and tears on her cheeks. Jade supposed that the girl was only acting, and sure enough, when the none-too-happy mother of the girl came up and started to drag her down the street, the tears vanished and she began to grab at the bags her mother was carrying. Sirens suddenly blared to life down the street and a man in full Santa-suit came barging down the walk with police officers hot on his trail. A little boy tugged on his mother's sleeve and interrupted her conversation with an obvious friend to point at the fleeing Santa and to ask her something about the fellow. Without warning, a taxicab pulled up next to Jade and splashed her with the dirty mush on the street edges created by the plows. Jade gritted her teeth and gave up on any pretenses of Christmas spirit and merely plowed over anyone and anything that happened to get in her way. Still, it seemed like forever until she reached the side alley peeling away from the bustle of the city and the oaken door with a crude image of a grapevine carved into it. From a small, dusty window set above the doorknob, she could make out the dim yellow lighting that signaled that the pub was indeed open for business.
She pulled open the door and was instantly welcomed by the low conversations of people at tables and the passionate singing of a young girl on the stage set away from the bar. Thankfully, the desecrated carols playing outside stopped at the door and all that could be overheard from within was the faint, muffled tolling of the bells. She pulled off her gloves and shoved them roughly into her pockets, the air within the pub stinging her eyes and nose for a moment before she adjusted to the familiar aromas. There was the scent of marijuana from the bathrooms, the heady smell of beer and whiskey – both straight from the bottle and leftover after coming back up – and the acrid smoke from cigarettes and cigars. A few conversations paused when she entered the door and nervous glances were cast in her direction before returning to their drinks, but nothing unusual. Jade made her way over to the bar and sat down on a stool, tossing her jacket on a nearby chair as the suffocating warmth of the tavern hit her full force. The bartender, a round, jolly looking fellow with dark hair flying out in several directions and merry blue eyes greeted her with a nod and moved to take her order.
"Whiskey. Straight-up." She said, turning slightly to watch the girl on stage. The barkeep nodded again and turned to the racks of bottles behind the counter. On stage stood a remarkably young girl, not even old enough to be allowed in the bar as a patron, she had brown hair pulled back and clasped at the base of her neck with a hair accessory that caught the light whenever she moved. She was slender and not very tall, with a body that already showed promise and dark eyes that burned with pride. Her voice was strong and seductive, and she prowled the stage like a cat, capturing the eyes of those who watched her and inviting the men to see how welcome they were for her company. Jade shook her head, not surprised by the girl. In some ways, the child reminded her of herself, and that did not settle well. She turned back to the counter and snatched up the glass, tipping it up to her mouth in a sharp snap of her wrist and draining it in a gulp. She gasped as the liquid burned down her throat to set fire to her stomach. After so many years, she still had not gotten used to the jolt it gave her system, and in a way she was glad for that. She had come to this bar with a purpose: to drown away her sorrows. She knew it wasn't wise, what with all the shadows at her back, waiting for the opportunity to neatly cut her throat and be done with her once and for all, but she had chosen this bar on the spur of the moment and satisfied herself that no one would have known that she would be here.
She signaled the bartender for another and she watched as he flipped the bottle over to spill the amber liquid into the cup with a practiced ease, and then placed the glass before her. She stared into the cup, swirling the murky contents absently before slamming it again. "Another, but make it something else." She instructed the man. While she waited, she let her eyes roam the establishment again and noticed a mirror behind the counter. Her breath caught for a moment and she debated briefly on whether she wanted to see the woman reflected there. A wry smile tugged at her lips and she finished off the refilled glass at her side before glancing at the mirror again. The content of the glass was brandy this time, of a good year and she rolled it around in her mouth for a moment before swallowing it, and nearly gagged. No, she would never get used to alcohol. Her gaze flickered to the mirror one last time and she straightened somewhat to have a better look at herself.
Her cheeks were rosy from the harsh liquor, but her gaze was sharp and alert, melted snow shimmering in her midnight-black hair. She had been compared to a China-doll when she was younger, her face holding an almost cherubic innocence, but there was nothing of that innocence there now. That was what life did to you. She mused, stirring the drink before her with a slender finger. Time steals away your childhood and life reaps your innocence. She laughed softly then, a bitter, self-mocking little laugh. Here I am, only thirty-two and already I have seen more and done more than most people like to imagine. Funny how life is, for some it is all luxury …while for others it is hardship after hardship, until you see how much you can take before you finally break. She closed her eyes briefly and slumped back a little, trying to ignore the inner demons that continually pestered her. She sipped at this drink for a time, savoring the rich, full-bodied taste and bite that kicked in just after it was swallowed. The bartender glanced over at her when she finished, but she casually waved her hand, done drinking for the night.
This was no way to get over the anguish that her life had given her. No, if anything, it simply gave her enemies the chance to even the score. There were too many people who wanted her right now for her to lose herself in drink, no matter what twists life decided to take. So what if she had just lost her chance at true happiness? So what if the only person she had ever allowed herself to get close to her was suddenly ripped away? So …where did that leave her now? She sighed, pissed at her life and the world in general. If she really wanted to, if she truly desired to make a better life for herself … and end the life that he was just now creating for himself, just so she could be his … she could. But no, Race deserved better than that. Besides, he would never live the life she lived; she was on the wrong side of the law too much, on the wrong end of the gun too often. But she had fun. No, she wouldn't ruin for her love his only chance at a normal … happy life. She cared for him too much to do that, never mind the fact that if she only put a little effort into it, she could turn him from the vixen that had stolen his heart, and he could be hers and hers alone. It was too soon though, too soon to be happy for herself again. She tossed a wad of bills on the counter and pulled her jacket on, yanking the gloves from her pocket and watching the child on the stage one last time before leaving the pub.
She was who she was and did what she did, and strangely, she didn't really want to change that. A pickpocket dashed down the alley, nearly running into her with two police on his tail and the mangled Christmas tunes were even louder now than they had been when she entered the bar. Instead of letting all of this get to her however, she merely clenched her teeth, socked the drunk who tried to catch some holiday cheer and started down the street, not sure on where she was going or what she was planning on doing next. She had learned a long time ago that life had its own way of doing things, and the best way to stay alive was to just hold on for the ride.