Bad Night?
"Katherine! Yer ordr's up!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm coming." Katherine made her way through the maze of tables that was to the cook's counter at the back of the "Faithful Bride," picked up two pitchers of rum, and balanced them on her hips. Katherine was a rather tall curvy lass. Her words and accent came from the upper class but the way she used them came from the lower. She didn't allow fellows to get fresh, and prevented a lot of brawls by just tying up her long dark brown hair in a tight bun and giving "the look" with her brown eyes. Yes, "the look" was applied to many of the "too drunk" patrons of the "Faithful Bride" tavern, and many a times all that was needed in a drunk pirate was a reminder of mother, and "the look" seemed to do it.
It was spread around that Katherine Winston was as upright as the first stroke in the first letter of her first name, I. She sat on straight-backed chairs, she knitted sensible things like gloves and scarves in her break hours, she didn't tolerate tomfoolery toward herself, and didn't like it to go on around her. People joked about her the possibility of her lack of knowledge about the going's on in the brothel part of the "Faithful Bride," certain that Katherine would have a heart attack if she knew, and if she did know, she probably went around there every Sunday morning, distributing faith pamphlets that told people exactly how and why they were going to get into either heaven or hell.
So that night, with those two rum pitchers swaying enticingly on her hips (after all, she did know what she had to do for her job), Katherine made her way to the back corner table of the "Faithful Bride," the back corner where the more colorful folk asked for a table.
She put down one pitcher at the table, and then prepared to leave, when a voice halted her.
""Xcuse me, miss…" One of the forms at the table struggled to get out of the booth, while the other motioned for him to stay sitting, waggled his eyebrows up and down, and then had just a little less trouble getting out of his side of the booth, eventually standing. "'Xcuse…"
Katherine whirled around. The swaying figure, just free from the confines of the booth, and who had popped forward a little bit with the energy, ran into her, not expecting her to twirl and advance.
"What do you want," Katherine deadpanned, the swaying man's face now practically staring into her bosom. After asking her question, she took her free hand, caught the man's face, and shoved it backward. Alarmed, he yelled and staggered toward the corner and sliding backwards on the table. His companion began to laugh hysterically.
Katherine advanced again on the table, the first man's form laying spread eagle on the table. "What. Do you. Want." She was clearly annoyed.
The laughing man calmed himself. "We just ordered both those pitchers, Miss, not just the one."
She raised her eyebrow at him, then set the second pitcher right between the man on the table's legs.
"Enjoy your stay, sirs."
The man resumed his laughing, and tossed a couple of gold coins at Katherine, which she expertly caught and tucked into her apron pocket as she strode away.
"Why didn' I jus' le' them kill the whelp?" The man on the table groaned, his long mane of brown hair streaming out from his head.
"Because then you wouldn't be coming to the 'whelp's' wedding tomorrow. Or the eunuch's lover's wedding, as a matter of fact…" the laughing man said. "Amazing how your prediction's seem to turn out so, so wrong, Jack."
The one called "Jack" slowly sat up, rubbing his face gingerly, "And why didn' ya tell me she was the bloody demon. I wouldna…"
"You wouldn't have what? Stared directly into her breasts? Yes, that probably would have been a good thing."
"Shaddup Will. When did ya ge' ta be so damn smart?"
"When I started to listen to Elizabeth. Now listen, you still need an escort for tomorrow, and I'm pretty sure that one of the ladies back there in the brothel won't pass for 'upper-class." He held up his gloved hand. "Yes, I know you've told me how much fun it would be to bring Scarlet or Giselle and compare them to Mrs. Kensigton. But." Will pointed into Jack's face rather threateningly. "You've got to find a suitable escort somewhere around here by tomorrow, or Elizabeth is likely to keep you out. She's gone crazy over this whole wedding. It's a woman thing. Count yourself lucky you haven't been here the whole time." He took a large swig of rum, straight out of the pitcher.
"So she's ta blame for yer whole… stooping down ta the level of a pirate, then, I suppose…?" Jack grinned.
Will rolled his eyes. "Now don't forget, you've got to pick up your escort from wherever you may find her at 6:00 pm, show up at our place at 3:00 so Elizabeth can scrub you up a bit…"
"…why do I need ta be 'scrubbed up?" may I ask…"
Will looked pointedly at the reindeer bones hanging from Jack's hair.
"All roight, all roight, say no more…"
"Well I've got to be off then. Elizabeth wants to be sure that both of our outfits are ready."
Jack snorted.
"Yes, well, at least my escort is all planned…" Will said over his shoulder as he plopped a few coins on the counter at the front of the "Faithful Bride," pulled his coat tight about him, and set out into the cold night.
Jack sat there, sipping at the dregs of the rum for a few minutes, thinking of where the hell he would get a "suitable" escort for the Turner's wedding tomorrow. He sat there for a very long time, blending into the woodwork until it was surely past three o'clock, when all the taverns were supposed to close. Tilting his hat over his head, Jack began to listen to the noises of the barmaids cleaning up around the room, the clinking and washing of dishes, the chattering of the whores between customers, the general feeling of life in the mostly awake city of Port Royal.
After about fifteen minutes of listening, a pair of voices drowned out all the rest.
"Lord knows how I was invited up to the big wedding, Jamsie. I dunno if I'm even planning on going. She sent me a dress and everything, but…"
"Of course you should go! It'd be a prime opportunity ter… you know…."
"For you, maybe, but not for me. I've never done that, I wish you'd stop. I'm content making my living honestly. Why just look here, Jamsie, some lad gave me two solid gold coins today, and if I can keep that up, why I can get out of this in no time!"
"You keep sayin' that, you know it's not goin' to come true. Come on, how much money have you really made. Eh?"
There was a pause.
"That's wha' I thought. Now, let's go together to this party of yourn tomorrow and we'll get ourselves a nice little bundle of goodies and find a nice little 'otel and…"
Another, longer pause, abruptly interrupted.
"Stop it! Jamsie, stop it! STOP IT!"
Jack was brought out of his listening state into one of alert. He got out of the corner and softly made his way across the room, to see a stocky man with golden yellow curls forcibly kissing the woman who had served them before, her dark brownhair now tumbling out of it's tight bun, wound around one of his blocky hands and pulled back, his other hand at the back of her dress, fumbling at the buttons.
"JAMES!" she shrieked once more, and he pulled down harder on her hair. Apparently befuddled by the dozens of tiny buttons, he pulled at the top of the back of her dress, and ripped the fragile fabric all the way to the floor.
Suddenly a tiny sound made him let go, and send the woman crashing to the floor, breathing quickly, her eyes wide open, rarely blinking.
The sound of a gun's safety catch being let off.
"You know, mate, usually you wait to let the lady tell ya she's ready." A slurring voice. "James, was it? Never really had a liking for that name. Too many scallywags've got it." At this last, Jack "accidentally" let the barrel of his gun bump against the back of the golden haired James' head. He crumpled to the floor in a faint. "Not too brave a'tall, is 'e?" Jack said, his eyes going to the woman on the floor.
Katherine remembered the man as the one who had been so rudely staring at her bosom earlier in the night. She instinctively brought her hands up to cross her chest.
Noting the motion, Jack knelt down carefully by the barmaid's side. "What's yer name, girly?"
"Kath-rine." Still breathing rather quickly, she breathed in between the syllables.
"Okay. Katherine, love, you've got ta calm down, else yer gonna stop breathin all tagether. Ya hear?"
She nodded, haltingly.
"I'm just gonna take yer hand, all right?"
Her eyes flew open, but she nodded again.
"Right then. In. Out. In. Out." He felt ridiculous, acting out breathing, puffing out his stomach, and caving it in, but with her hand against it, and with the combination of the words, she started to slow her breathing, and her eyes closed after a great while.
"Oh bugger." He now had a deeply sleeping woman with an extremely torn dress on his hands, not to mention the big bloke over there who was bound to wake up at any moment. How did he get himself into this bloody situation!
Sure enough, the golden haired man started to stir, murmuring inaudible things. Jack was prepared to kick him in the gut, but thought the better of it and drew his sword instead.
As James sat up, Jack was ready for him, his sword drawn and pointed at his throat. "Wha's her room number?"
"What?"
"I said," Jack rolled his eyes, "wha's her room number? Barmaids stay 'ere free."
"Now look here, if you think I'm going to just leave and leave her with YOU…"
"And the alternative would be leaving here with you…?"
James had the grace to blush. "Room 4. Key's under the flowerpot."
"'ow original. Now, go. GO!" Jack mimed putting his sword into action, and James practically ran off. "Oh bugger." Half underneath the woman, Jack tried to get un-underneath her without waking her, and that provided a fair bit of maneuvering.
After about ten minutes, Jack succeeded in getting out from under her, but bringing along with him the loose flap of the dress. "Bugger bugger bugger." Now the right side of the bodice hung on loosely, and Jack did not want to count on there being anything under the dress – underwear, petticoat… and he didn't want his mind to drift this way, either. "Bugger." He finished, then strove to pick up Katherine by her left side, but not too far in, and at the same time, tucking in the right side of the back side of the dress.
"All right." Having lifted up the woman, he started toward the rooms of the "Faithful Bride," looking for room number 4. The noises coming from the other rooms not exactly helping, he found the flowerpot… on the ground. Letting out a few more strings of cuss words, Jack propped Katherine against the door, and attempted to fit the key into the door by all angles, when it finally fit. Holding up Katherine by the shoulder, he rotated the door inward, picked up Katherine again, and set her (none too gently) on the still unmade bed.
"By God, I hope you're grateful in the morning…" Jack Sparrow said as he left the unconscious woman's room, pocketing the key and replacing the flowerbed.
