Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters except Roxanne, the others belong to Sucker Punch.
Author's note: Thank you to all the people who read my first story, I Hope He is a Gentleman! You guys are awesome and very kind and I hope I exceed your expectations. This one will have a lot more from Carmelita's view, a little from Bentley's view and even some of Monique, you didn't think she'd just disappear, right? Anyways, thank you very much! I hope to prove you proud!
Hugs&Kisses -- Jessy Dalton
Roxanne stood on the cold windy street corner, shifting around in her too tight, too small ensamble waiting for this night to get started because she knew the sooner it started the sooner the end would come. Normally endings were bad, for example, the ending of a good book or movie. And many people often think that goodbye's had nothing good about them at all but to Roxanne, endings and goodbye's were the best thing about her job. An ending to a half hour of absolute misery and a goodbye to a man she'd never see again.
She hated her job so badly she was already closing her eyes to imagine the shower she'd take as soon as she got to the run-down apartment she shared with two other girls in her line of buisiness. She shivered because the clothing she wore was very little, her shirt was too low and her skirt was too short. Her hair was too big and her heels were too high. She crossed her arms over her ample chest and scanned her eyes over the street. She saw a figure walking towards her. He was a small, probably 6 inches shorter than she was. 'Nothing to worry about.' Roxie, as her friends called her, promised herself but that didn't stop the pit forming in her stomach. He walked up to her and she saw he was a decent looking bobcat except he had greasy hair and yellow teeth. He handed her a fifty dollar bill. 'Here we go.' She thought to herself, praying that a miracle fall into her lap soon.
Carmelita had just walked into her apartment and started taking off her jacket and shoes. She removed her badge, belt and her stun-gun and layed them on the table next to the door. She was muttering something in her native language of Spanish. She seemed to completely forget about Sly, who was sitting up on her couch, catching a few words that rolled fluidly off her tongue. When she said something about taking a shower, Sly felt guilty not reminding the beautiful young woman he was there but his roguish side told him to just sit back and watch the show. She walked into her room and grabbed a pink towel before heading into the bathroom. Sly heard the water turn on and after a moment he heard Carmelita's beautifully accented voice singing what sounded like a spanish lullaby. He grinned in a cheshire manner at the many wonders Carmelita seemed to reveal to him. He had only moved in that morning but since then he had learned that she drank her coffee black, before she went to work she always mde sure her hair was braided and tied with two black elastics, and last but not least, certainly not least, she always had a song rolling of her accented tongue. After fifteen minutes, Carmelita walked out of the bathroom, her body barely covered with the pink towel, and her hair, which slightly waved while wet, was combed back. Her eyes searched the
living room and when they landed on Sly, he smiled devilishly. Carmelita's temper instantly flared and horrible things began swimming out of her beautiful mouth. Her already reddish-brown fur became a shade darker and she ran into her room. Sly heard some thumping and crashings and for a moment he forgot his pains that lived in his head, arms, legs, and torso. She came in a few minutes later wearing a black t-shirt and white shorts.
"How dare you just sit by and watch me!" She yelled at the thief that was resting on her coach's pull out bed. He still didn't have a shirt on but his broad shoulders and most of his attractive abs were wrapped in white bandages. Carmelita, after a long process of carrying him to a bus station, ignoring odd looks that were directed at her and her half-naked accomplice, and then finally managing to get him to her apartment, had dressed his wounds. She found it hard to keep her mind on the wounds after the blood had been washed off because he had such an attractive body. Sly noticed she was swooning and he would normally had flexed his muscles to show the absolute strength they had but the pain that overtook his body had overwhelmed him. "Well, Querera, what was I supposed to do? If i had startled you i'd most likely be fried to a crisp with your shock pistol." Carmelita felt a tingle go up and down her spine when she heard Sly call her love in her native language. Carmelita shook her head, she was too tired to argue with the raccoon.
"How're you feeling?" She said, genuinely concerned. She told herself it was so she could start to chase him up and down the streets of Paris but the many butterflies in her stomach voice a different opinion. She started to walk into the kitchen, and if she had not turned around, she would've seen a very charming and handsome smile emanate from within her ring-tailed associate. "Well, I feel touched that you care so much about me." he replied. Her gorgeous head whipped around and gave him a scowl, "You know what I mean, Ringtail."
"Aw, you have a pet name for me?" He said, his trademark smile appearing on his handsome face.
Carmelita was embarrased that she did, in fact, have a pet name for him and she accidently revealed it. "Don't flatter yourself." She said bluntly.
"Darn, I thought for a second you were getting sweet on me." He said, pretending to be hurt but couldn't hide his smile for more than a few seconds.
Carmelita turned around and walked to the fridge to hide her smile that the goofy raccoon earned. She opened the fridge, "What do you want for dinner?" She asked him. "Whatever you want, Querera." He almost sang from the couch. A familiar tingle raced on the speedway of her spine. "I'm making enchiladas." She yelled back. He aggreed though he had no idea what an enchilada was but he'd eat just about anything to please Carmelita.
Roxie walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Her bright red lipstick had barely faded and the eyeshadow and blush she'd applied had smeared from sweat. When she looked at herself in the mirror, a flood of self-pity and self-disgust washed throughout her body. She was going to look for a new job, she promised herself, but a tear rolled down her cheek when she thought about her poor qualifications. She'd tried marajauna once and now it was imprinted in her hair, she wouldn't pass a drug test. She barely passed high school with a 2.56 GPA and she dropped out of her first class she enrolled in at the community college. Soon one tear turned into many and she found herself sitted on the toilet, her hands covering her face, trying to silence her crying. After 10 minutes she turned on the water of the shower and jumped in. She began washing her hair with her two dollar shampoo. She inhaled the vanilla smell, tomorrow could be a new day. How little she knew.
The next morning Carmelita woke up, got dressed, and left for work silently trying not to wake the sleeping theif on her couch. He needed his sleep. Most of the day she spent working on some paperwork but when it got dark she recieved a complaint of some prostituting on the corner of Lincoln and Abbott St. She grabbed her shock pistol and her badge before she headed out the door. On the drive there she couldn't help but think of how glad she was to have a decent job with a steady, although small, paycheck. Once she got there she saw the woman from behind. She was a cheetah, with long legs, a short skirt, and a tummy baring tube top. Her long platinum orange hair was poofed up at the top to make it look bigger.
"Put your hands up where I can see them and turn to face me." Carmelita said for the thousandth time in her career. Roxanne heard a familiar spanish accented police officer behind her. She swore silently below her breath and turned around. She was greeted by a familiar face, one that belonged to an old best friend she had gone through high school with. The look of suprise on Carmelita's face was comical but it was mirrored by Roxanne's. "Carmelita Fox?, she asked.
Carmelita shook her head, "Roxanne Barnes?" Roxanne dropped her head and started to jog over to her but Carmelita shook her head and said, "No. I'm sorry, but you need to stay right there." You could see her heart break just looking at her face. Carmelita couldn't stand the look on her old friend's face. She dropped her arms and motioned for her to come near her. They hugged and Carmelita inhaled the smell of her vanilla shampoo. 'What am I doing? I'm getting a soft spot for criminals!' She thought. She pulled away.
"Muchacha, what was going though your mind? You are way better than selling your body!" Carmelita said maybe a bit to harshly because at that Roxanne's eyes began to water and her lips started to pucker, trying to fight back tears. She grabbed Carmelita and began to cry into her shoulder. Carmelita tried to comfort her. After a few minutes Carmelita had enough, "Okay. Stop! You're done crying!" Carmelita commanded. Roxanne blinked at her boldness and whiped her eyes. Carmelita lowered her voice, "Are you better than this?" She asked her long lost friend.
"I th-" She started but was quickly interupted by Carmelita.
"Its a yes or no question."
Roxanne looked down at her used red heels, the ones she wore every night for the past few months. "Yes, I am." She whispered, but her heart lifted from the simple truth of that statement. "Yes, Carmelita Fox, I am." Carmelita sighed, knowing she was going to regret what she was about to do. "Then jump in the car. I'll take you home..." But then at that moment, she remembered Sly. "But, um... I have a guest.," She paused and a small smile graced her lips. "But really, he's quite a charmer and actually... i hate to admit it... but he really is a gentleman."
If Sly could only see his lady love, he would have the largest smile she'd seen to date.