Mai Pierce
Charmaine Champagne
Presenting -- the first chapter, which is hopefully, as promised, a little more exciting than the prologue (hint: ROMANCE! In lurid 1940s style noir!). Also, we finally get some names going, which will probably be appreciated by those of you who don't have this whole story planned out in your heads.
Without further adieu:
CHAPTER ONE
A Nightcap
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The woman continues walking, and goes past a bustling, seedy looking bar. She wipes sweat from her face as she passes by, so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she forgets to mask her troubled expression. From inside the bar, a man in a suit happens to notice her walking and squints in recognition. Turning towards the window, he takes a puff of his cigar and raps on the window to get her attention.
After hearing his fifth tap, she turns and looks for the noise, unsure of its intended target. When she sees him, he holds up his hand and mouths, "Wait." He runs out the door and hurries up to meet her.
"Hey Mai," he says in a thick accent. "What're you doin' around this pigeon perch? Slumming?"
He takes another drag of his cigar and looks at her with obvious worry.
"What," she answers distractedly.
"You sick or something?"
She breathes shallowly, sweat shimmering on her brow. "I don't think so..." she trails off.
The man looks down at his feet and then looks up at her coyly. "Well, if ya feelin' weak, why not come in and have a drink on the 'ouse? For free." He smirks at the sound of his own voice, then, noticing her silence, takes her by the arm and says with concern in his voice, "Come on."
"You know," he comments as he walks her into the bar. "Buying this joint was the smart'es move I ever made."
Inside the bar is crowded and smoky. People of questionable reputations walk around in glittering tops and jaunty hats. A cockatoo is perched above the bar. Cigars and alcohol flow rampantly.
The suited man sits Mai down and motions to a waiter. "Oi, give us a coupla' drinks, will ya?"
"Yes sir," the waiter confirms, almost bumping into an older woman in a cheetah-print dress as he scurries away to fetch some glasses.
A blonde dancer in a slinky sequined costume dances to piano music and sings out above the crowd's conversations. "You must have been a beautiful baby..." she croons. Someone whistles and she winks.
As the waiter returns with beverages, dark liquor poured high into shot glasses, the suited man looks over to where Mai is focusing intently on her thoughts. "I hope ya not sore at me about this afte'noon," he says to her, leaning in on his elbows. He smiles, his face full of boyish charm. "Strictly business, see? I mean, it might just as well have been you sellin' me out. Ya can't expect it that, that..." he trails off as he notices that Mai's intense stare has turned from the table to him. He quavers.
"What are you looking at me like that for," he asks.
"You can talk your way out of anything, can't you" Mai pauses, continuing to stare at him with single-minded concentration. "You're good at that."
"In my business, you have to be," he says, looking right back at her. A hint of a smile plays on her face. It encourages him. He smiles laciviously and says, "Only right now, I'd rather talk myself inta somethin'. Know what I mean?"
Mai smiles fully now, and something in her eyes brightens. "Still trying?" she asks lightly.
"It's a habit," the man says. He shrugs his shoulders. "I've been tryin' once a week since we were kids."
"Twice a week," Mai quips.
He chuckles. "Alright, twice." He sighs and smiles. "Anyhow, I'm still drawin' blanks."
As he speaks, Mai takes her shot glass and downs it. Her companion notices and frowns. "Hey," he accuses. "You nevah used t'drink it straight like that."
"I've learned how these last few months," Mai says, her gaze on the table. "I've learned a lot of things." As she speaks her voice is heavy, as though laden with remembrances of things she'd rather forget.
"Like f'instance?" he asks. He takes a cigarette from his front pocket.
"Like for instance that's rotten liquor." The man laughs. Mai looks at him straight, a certain look glinting in her eye. "There's better stuff to drink at the beach house, Valon."
He looks back at her and pauses. "Is that a dare?"
"Could be," she says, coyly circling her finger around the glass.
Valon lights his cigarette and puffs our a cloud of smoke. "All right," he says. "I'll take it." He grabs his hat and fixes it on his head over his impressively spiked brown hair. "You know I like good stuff." He gets up with a grin. "Maybe this's my lucky day."
"Maybe," Mai replies, refusing to give him any more or less. But she does allow him to grip his hand tightly on the small of her back and guide her through the bar to the front door.
The two drive up to the aforementioned beach house in a black car. The house and the beach are both unnaturally dark. She walks up, opens the door and turns to Valon. "Come in."
"How about your husband?" Valon asks as he takes off his hat. "Is he, uh...gettin' pretty broadminded all'f a sudden?"
She says nothing, but walks into the house, flipping lights on as she goes. He rolls his eyes and follows her.
"He isn't here," she finally tells him as they make their way through the house. "Besides, you can talk your way out of anything, can't you?"
"Oh, I get by alright," he says. "You keep sayin' that."
"Do I?" Mai turns on another light as they descend the spiral staircase to the drawing room. "Nervous, Valon?" she asks playfully, seeing his hand shake.
"Nah, I'm just cold," Valon affirms. "Temporarily." They walk down past the room where Kaiba lays unnoticed, dead on the floor.
At the bar, Valon sets to preparing drinks while Mai reclines in a chair to the side. "Now, isn't this more comfortable?" she asks.
"Oh, yeah, I guess so, but eh..." Valon trails off.
"What's the matter?" Mai asks, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Valon stops stirring the highballs, an eyebrow raising at the sound of her tight skirt shifting across her thighs.
"Nothin, nothin." Valon replies.
"You don't seem very happy here," Mai accuses.
"Oh, I'm happy, believe me, inside my hah't is singing."
He walks over and hands Mai her drink. She smiles and accepts. "That's pretty corny, Valon."
"Well, I'm a corny guy," Valon agrees. "But smah't, too." He bends down and clinks glasses with Mai, looking at her face as he sips from the glass. "I wondah about things."
"What things?"
"Well, f'instance, I wondah why you brought me here tonight." He sits next to Mai. "I mean, alluva sudden, boom! Husband gone, soft lights, quiet room...oppatunity. Why?"
Mai looks up at him. "Maybe I find you irresistible, Vallie."
"Yeah?" He smiles. "Y'know, you make me shivah, Mai. You always have."
"You make love so nicely, Vallie, you always have," Mai taunts, staring Valon straight in the face. She bites her lower lip, cherry red with her signature gloss, and looks up at Valon through her long eyelashes. Valon's breath catches in his throat as he stares with unconcealed longing at the object of his affection. After a few moments, he comes back to himself and continues, leaning in closer to Mai.
"Y'know Mai, all my life when I've wanted somethin', I've gone after it." He pauses for effect, staring into her eyes. "I get it too. May take me a little time, a'right, but I get what I want."
"Do you?" Mai smiles and cocks her head up, a gesture which opens her body toward Valon. Her breasts, pushed up to maintain her posture, lightly brush his chest. "It must be nice."
"Yeah, it is," Valon says smoothly, wrapping his arm around her and leaning in to kiss her exposed neck.
Mai's eyes open wide and she jerks her arm forward, knocking the glass out of Valon's hand. He pulls back, startled. Brushing Scotch from her sleeve, she whispers "I'm sorry."
"Hey, whassah score?" Valon asks, confused and more than a little flustered.
Blinking, Mai continues to blot the drink from her coat. "I feel sticky. I think I'd better change my dress." She stands and walks past Valon.
"Yeah, sure, Mai." Valon recovers and stands, picking the glass up and returning it to the bar. "It's a good idea."
"I, um..." Mai starts, reaching an open door. "I'll only be a minute." She walks out of the drawing room down a hallway.
"Leave the door open so we can talk," Valon calls after her.
"I like to hear you talk," Mai replies over her shoulder. She enters a nearby room and closes the door, locking it behind her.
"Yeah," Valon responds. He grins with self-satisfaction. "So do I. Somethin' about the sounda my own voice that fascinates me."
In the bathroom, Mai ducks behind a wall, biting her knuckles. The fearful look from earlier in the night reawakens in her eyes with a vengeance. She hears Valon talking from the bar.
"I'm glad ya didn' get sore at me the way I took ya ovah the hurdles, Mai. I didn't mean ta cut up ya business the way I did, I just got started and couldn't stop." She hears him fix himself another drink and walk to his seat. The leather armchair squeaks as he leans into it. "I just can't help myself. I see an angle, I start cuttin' myself a piece a'throat. It's an instinct."
Mai's eyes race around the bathroom.
At the bar, Valon drinks deeply. "With me, bein' smart's a disease. Know what I mean?"
The door leading to the hallway closes abruptly. Valon doesn't notice right away. Then an awkward silence fills the air. He looks up. "Hm?" he asks the silence.
He gets up and walks for the hallway. "Oi, Mai! Hurry up! You know I don't like to drink alone." He stops in front of the door. "Oi, say something!" he challenges, "This one-sided conversation's beginnin' to bore me!"
Mai scurries down the back steps and races away from the house. Her high heels sink into the sand.
Valon finishes his drink and tilts his head at the door, confused. "Mai?" He reaches for the doorknob and turns it.
Locked.
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A/N: Hopefully that was able to pique your interest a little bit more. I think Chapter Four will be where the story really starts getting more fleshed out and explained, but please do tune in for the next chapter, which will involve, among other things, 1940s style police (lots of them!) and the further adventures of Valon. Reviews are not necessary but are highly encouraging!
