Peanut and shell casings, cigarette butts and wads of facial tissues littered the floor. Boots caked with mud laid atop table tops and splotches of spilled beer added to the décor. The smell of lavender had been overridden and replaced by an acrid presence. Madame will not be happy.
"Korsak," Chang stepped toward a man of somewhat a hulking build and an equally staggering stench, "Madame will be back soon. She would really not appreciate this mess."
"I hear ye! The boys and I will get the mess sorted. Don't you worry yourself there Chang," Korsak pushed his chips onto the pile, "All in boys. We just need to finish this hand and we'll be just the men." Korsak winked.
Chang offered a semblance of a smile. Madame had been in a foul mood lately; she feared a less than perfect welcome for her.
"Thanks Korsak," Chang thought it best to add, "It's just, you know how Madame can get and she's been through some with..."
"I know Chang. It'll be hard now that she's gone but I've been there since Madame's been this here tiny," Korsak cradled air in his arms, "I may have gotten on in years but my heart's still in the right place," Korsak smirked, "Well, as right as it'll ever be. And that's with the boss and Madame. We boys just need breathers now and then Chang." Korsak tossed his hand onto the pile. "Show em' boys."
"Yes Korsak," Chang looked down onto her clipboard, looking through a check-list of preparations; Chang liked to stay organized, she knew how hectic the mob world can get and how precise Madame liked things, "Also, have you fixed Madame's toilet?"
"Aw shite!"
"You didn't?"
"I forgot is all. Get me the darn phone book there Frost." Korsak pointed at the dusty volume lying atop the counter.
"We have the internet Sir, I don't see why you can't appreciate it."
Korsak looked to the boy and chuckled to himself. New to the gang and not lacking any nerve or gusto this boy, dared to stand his ground without acquainting with disrespect, well, not frequently at least. Not a bad one to keep around. "Well, this here, will never run out of batteries now would it?" Korsak flipped through the sections.
"No sir," Frost shook his head and frowned, concentrating on his hand, "And I fold."
"Bag the chips for me and sweep up the mess son. I need to call me a plumber."
"Rizzoli and sons."
"Plumbers yes?"
"Yes sir, to where would we direct the service?"
"16 Drury Lane."
Jane knew that place. Everyone knew that place. It's mob turf. "I think that's a little way out of our service routes Sir."
"I know what ye' thinking kiddo. We need a plumber and you're the best, no?"
"Yes sir, we pride ourselves on that."
"So, we need a plumber. Are you coming or not."
The tone sounded nothing like a question. She weighed the odds - the probability of getting into trouble with the mob by fixing their toilets on their turf, versus actually getting into trouble by refusing to render assistance; tough. "Alright Sir, an hour tops."
"Good on ye kid. 16 Drury Lane and please, no funny business."
"I wouldn't dream of it Sir." She hung up the phone and packed her tools. Best that Frankie's not in, she thought, best I leave a note too.
'Frankie,
Went on a house call little brother. Be good.
-Jane'
She popped her cap onto her unruly curls and slung her tool bag onto her shoulder. Whilst she slid into the van, she thought to herself, no need to be melodramatic here Jane. It's the mob, not the loony and crazed. Toe the line, fix their loo and we'll just go back on with our lives. No drama whatsoever.
Maura looked at the house. It's Victorian. She had never been one to think that size or even fortune to matter, but she looked at the house and thought, it's Victorian, it's grand and it's now mine. Father has given me a turf of my own. I'll be on my own. She pondered for a moment, the difference between sole proprietorship and glaring solitude even if it's glorified with power. She climbed the steps; she would leave the reflection for, maybe later or tomorrow.
"Madame Isles," her assistant - Chang - greeted her at the door.
She nodded and offered a faint smile.
"Would you like me to take your coat?"
She set her suitcases down by the door and sheds the coat. "Thank you Chang, but I'll be heading to my room," she held onto the coat, "If it's alright, would you kindly pass a message to Korsak that I'll be with them in a moment?"
"Yes Madame, of course." Chang gave a slight smile and turned to go.
She stood at the foyer, taking in the hardwood floors, carved banisters and the paintings that lined the walls. She shook her head and thought, I need a new place. A smaller place. A place that I can call my own. This is neither proprietorship nor solitude, this is a lonely suffocation.
She started up the stairs to her room; she had duties to attend to, so best to collect her mind.
Jane rang the bell. "Rizzoli and sons."
The door opened and a bespectacled broad welcomed her in.
"Are you the plumber?"
"Yes ma'am."
"I'm a little tied up at the moment, is it okay if I just gave you directions?" The broad seemed hurried and impatient.
"Sure ma'am. Just direct away."
"Alright. Second floor, turn right, third door."
"Got it. Thanks." She started towards the stairs, appraising the mahogany.
Maura hung up her coat. She hung up the coat; her mother's coat - Hope's.
She sat on the bed, slumped. Hope's gone, she thought. Is hope gone too, she wondered. She sighed.
"You've gotten your own turf, you're a mob boss now Maura," she laid back on the bed, "You're a mob boss now Maura. There's no getting out now." She tried for a smile but tears answered instead.
"You're a mob boss now Maura," she took in a breath and headed for the lavatory, "Wash up and do your part right. At least for tonight."
"It's a clogged bowl and sink," Jane assessed her 'clients', "Nothing I can't fix." She rolled up her sleeves and got to fixing.
She reached for her wrench and looked under the sink. She started to sing.
"Nuts and bolts, clogs and spills, just some of the things we plumbers fix. Here's my wrench, there's my rag, and I have me a plunger too. My name is Jane, and Mr toilet, how are you feeling today. I see that you're clogged, but just worry not, I'll have you flushing so very soon. I may be a plumber now and I might live in a snobbish town but one day things may change for me-"
"Excuse me?"
She stopped mid-screw, she heard a voice.
"Ouch!"
She lay back down, under the forgotten sink.
"My apologies," soft fingers fluttered along the fore of her head.
She felt pain, there must be a bump but she was not registering pain, she was registering fingers, across her forehead. So soft they were - the flutters.
"No ma'am, it's okay," she shook her head, urging the fingers away, "The fault's mine."
The woman was kneeling on the bathroom floor, with grime lining the tiles. She remembered her place; how could she have had her kneel alongside her in this lowly state.
"Please get up there ma'am. The floor's grimy and that's a lovely dress you have on." She almost remembered her place. She sent a smile; she couldn't help herself.
The woman smiled. "I'm sorry to have startled you." The woman stood, and offered a hand.
She took it.
The woman evened out the creases of her dress.
She felt no irritation. On any other occasion, she would most probably have been irritated; a fancy lady there, caring so much about her clothes. She just looked at her. The woman continued evening out her dress. Nose a little pink. Soft golden brown hair. She had never wished harder to be anything but a plumber.
"Sorry there ma'am. I'll be done with the toilet and sink soon," she weakly gestured, hoping to catch the woman's eyes.
"It's alright. I'll head to another. I wouldn't want to hold you up." The woman turned to go.
"Right." She uttered, looking down. She turned to head back to the ground, where her wrench laid waiting. She listened as the woman's footsteps grew fainter; the woman had walked away.
She wondered why her heart ached a little.
Maura heard singing.
She looked into the bathroom and saw a woman, dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans. Few strands of her curls had escaped her cap and she was lying under the toilet sink. Fixing the sink and singing.
She looked at her, taking in her form, taking in her song. She smiled; she dares to dream, she dares to hope - this woman fixing the toilet sink.
She had lost hope.
She looked at the woman and hope did not seem so lost.
"Excuse me?" She called.
The woman stopped, the woman sat up. The woman cried out.
She ran over to check for bruises, a forming bump. She knew what she was doing, of course she knew. This was what she would rather be doing - checking for bumps, looking over bruises, bodies and bumps.
She fluttered inside a little. The woman's skin gave off such warmth. The woman smelt of lavender too.
"No ma'am, it's okay," the woman said and started shaking her head. Her fingers fell away, as the woman added, "The fault's mine."
She was kneeling on the floor. The cold tiled floor. She liked this position, this place; this closeness next to the woman.
The woman smiled as she urged her to stand up, as she complimented her dress.
She simply smiled.
"I'm sorry to have startled you." She sent an apology encompassed with a smile. She offered the woman, her hand. The woman took it.
She was aware of the tingling of her receptors against the woman's coarse skin. She straightened her dress. She was conscious of how lost her hands were feeling. She straightened her dress.
"Sorry there ma'am. I'll be done with the toilet and sink soon." The woman said.
She lifted her eyes, to watch as she gestured. She did not want soon; she wanted a little while more, a little while longer. She wanted to hold the woman up, if she only could.
"It's alright. I'll head to another. I wouldn't want to hold you up." She turned to go, ignoring the hives she had developed.
"Right."
She heard the woman's soft answer.
She wondered why her own heart ached a little but, duty calls. She has a father to please and a mob boss to be.
A/N: Hi there, thank you, for the time~
The idea for this came from Tumblr Rizzlers, whom I have regretfully forgotten who they actually are, so I can't and won't take full credit for the starting idea - of Jane and Maura, following their fathers' footsteps.
Anything else, it was my addition, and I hope that well, all's alright. The song Jane sings to goes with the tune, 'skater boy' by Avril Lavigne. I know it doesn't quite match but it was one of my own silly snippets of fun. Feel free to sing-along. Hahaha. Hmm.
New A/N: Hi there, apologies, there has been a slight edit; nothing story related, just the writing style.
Another A/N: Again, a change has happened - writing style wise.