A/N- A nice long chapter with all manner of excitement in it...

Chapter 4 - Nighttime in the City

Just because I didn't want any problems with Claudette and her girls didn't mean I couldn't take her up on her offer of free drinks and a prime table...

I knew Piper didn't want us getting mixed up in anything, but I couldn't see the harm in just going down there and having a nice night out... and if we happened to pick up some information that might shut down the curiosity that kept poking me in the back every time I sat idle for longer than five minutes, then it was all to the goddamn good as far as I was concerned.

Jazz clubs were more my thing that Piper's. She didn't mind them per se, but they weren't part of who she was like they were with me. It wasn't so much the jazz part that I loved (although I found that jazz was music I could definitely get behind), it was the close in, hot, smoky atmosphere of the club itself. It was the type of place that I'd spent a lot of nights in, the type of place I felt at home in, even this far away from where I had lived my whole life. I didn't need to speak the language to enjoy drinking, and dancing and flirting with a pretty girl (I mean, Piper was the only pretty girl who really caught my eye these days, but I still flirted with her like mad). Joints like this reminded me of Red's, of action and laughter and, in the old days, the hustle and the thrill of the chase.

I'd made a few connections in the weeks we'd been here, talking music and nightlife with guys at Les Deux Magots (not the best name for a place that served food, far as I was concerned, but that was the French for you) while Piper talked philosophy or sipped her tea. I asked around and found out that Claudette's place was called Le Chat Noir and that it had been there since the war. Rumor had it that a Resistance cell that operated out of it, but no one knew for certain and these days everyone claimed to have been in the Resistance during the war. It had a good reputation, lots of big acts circulated through, but just as many new guys made their start there. They didn't much advertise, relying mostly on good word of mouth, which was why I hadn't heard of them before.

It took a couple days to convince Piper that going back to the bar when it was crowded with patrons and filled with noise wouldn't be tempting fate. It wasn't like we were going to have another confrontation with Claudette. If we saw her or the other girls we met they'd be too busy to do much but give us the drink they promised. "I swear I just want to go out and have some fun, I'm not looking for anything more..."

"There are half a dozen clubs on that street alone, darling..."

"Yeah, but this is the one where the owner promised us free shit."

"You realize we're flush with cash, don't you?"

"Look, we've been to most of the other clubs around here. I didn't even know that one was there until we went into it the other day... I like trying new shit..."

She studied me shrewdly, "You don't like trying new anything, Al. You went to the same three clubs in LA for almost 15 years. The only reason you've been trying so many here is you want to find one you can call your 'regular place' and none of the others have suited you. Do you really think Le Chat Noir is going to be the best choice for you when it's run by people who've done nothing but knock us over and point guns at us?"

"Never know until I try. Maybe it'll be really nice. I mean I really doubt they'll try to shoot us again anyway..." I took her hand, leaned forward and kissed her, gave her my most sincere look, "Aw come on babe, let's just go this once. I swear, I just want to see what it's like!"

She sighed, "Fine, although I'm only giving in because I know how damnably persistent you can be and I would rather not spend the whole afternoon having to endure more 'convincing'."

I grinned and kissed her again, "Well, I can think of something much more pleasant to spend the whole afternoon doing anyway..."

Rue St Benoit during the day had been practically sedate... at night it was full of a good looking people, dressed in the latest fashions who wanted to dance the night away and maybe fall madly in love for the next forty eight hours or so. The French knew how to do leisure time, I would give them that.

Piper and I made our way down the street through the press of people and when we arrived at the black door, we found a line up. It was early in the evening, maybe nine, so it wasn't much of a line, but given the fact that none of the other clubs had anyone queued up it was a sign that Claudette's place was doing well.

"See, Pipes, the place'll be so crowded I doubt I'll be able to get in trouble."

"I'm not sure there's any situation where you can't get in trouble. You were just sitting at the kitchen table yesterday and it split in half..."

"Okay, look I can't be responsible for shoddy French craftsmanship... and besides to call that closet a kitchen or that bedstand a table is a bit generous..." I'd thought my place in LA was a little cramped, but it was a sprawling mansion compared to the flat here. I was used to tight quarters going way back, so I didn't much mind (and by that point it hadn't really even surprised me that Piper didn't either), but I was offended at the implication. "Besides, fucking thing broke cause of that big crack you put in it first week we were here..."

She leaned over and spoke into my ear, her voice lowering half an octave, "You're the one who wanted to 'christen' it, darling. Just because I happened to be the one who got rather forcefully laid down on it doesn't make that my fault..."

The memory flashed through my brain and I felt my insides heating up pleasantly. I cleared my throat as she leaned away again, an amused smirk on her face at how easy it was to make me heat up that way. "And it was an antique," she added in a more normal tone, "so I think it was less 'shoddy craftsmanship' than 'medieval craftsmanship'."

I cleared my throat, as though that would somehow automatically clear my mind of impure thoughts, "Yeah, well... y'know... it's not like it broke this morning because I looked at it funny or something..."

Before she could respond, we found we'd come to the front of the line. The door to the club was propped open and Cindy, dressed to the nines but still not looking like someone to be fucked with, was standing guard. She saw us and tilted her head, "Well, shit... if it ain't the princess and the redwood..."

"Why does she get to be the princess?"

Cindy didn't dignify that with an answer, "Y'all ever heard that thing about bad pennies?"

"We're not here to start any shit. I just like jazz..."

"You like jazz?"

"That such a huge stretch?" I asked, bristling slightly.

"Nah, you just seemed more one of them rock and roll sorts..." she shrugged, "You really here just to listen, I guess I ain't gonna be the one t'keep you out. Feel like I owe you for P... though maybe you won't feel the same when Claudette or Maxie sees you..."

I frowned at that, but I wasn't able to ask her to clarify because there were people behind us pressing forward. We walked into the dimly lit hall. The main difference tonight was that there was a coat check room halfway towards the inside door. It had been concealed the other day by a panel in the wall. It was manned by someone we hadn't met before, a skinny little boy , maybe in his early teens, though it was hard to tell. He was dressed in a tux that made him look younger rather than older. We gave over our coats and got the ticket from him, then headed to the inside door.

It was closed but not locked. We pushed through it and were immediately enveloped with a thick wall of smoke and sound. We went down the stairs and emerged into the main room, which was already packed. Most of the tables were occupied, and the dance floor was full of people. The band, an all black five piece with a piano, bass, drums, sax and trumpet was playing something that was more swing than jazz, that I immediately liked.

The bright lights were off, replaced by dim wall mounted lights and a couple of muted chandeliers that loomed so low that they looked ready to hit the taller patrons on the head. The security woman (maybe the Maxie Cindy had referred to) was working the bar with a middle aged black man who had a mustache and an easy smile. I couldn't see Claudette, but given the press of people and the dim, smoky atmosphere it wasn't a stretch to say she'd be hard to spot.

Janae was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. When she saw us, she scowled. Cindy may have been grateful to us for saving Poussey, but it didn't look like Janae was willing to cut us the same slack... or any slack...

"What're you doin' here?"

"Thought we might get a drink, hear some music..."

"Yeah, well maybe you best re-think that. There's plenty of other clubs on this street'd be happy to take your money," her open hostility was raising my hackles. I didn't mind people being sore with me if they had a reason. Hell, sometimes that was the goal, but this girl just had a fucking boulder sized chip on her shoulder and I didn't like the unfairness of her taking it out on me when I'd done nothing to her.

I narrowed my eyes, "You know, most people have to really get to know me before they try to throw me out of their establishment..."

"I don't want to know you. You're fuckin' trouble and we got more than enough of that without you nosin' around..." It was something about her tone. Arrogant and spoiling for a fight, it was hitting all the wrong buttons inside my head.

"I'm not nosing anything you..."

Piper's hand landed gently on my shoulder and I stopped, still scowling but immediately reminded of why where we were and the fact I'd promised her I wouldn't start anything. This wasn't exactly our turf... she spoke in her polite, conciliatory voice, "I realize the circumstances under which we met were less than pleasant, but truly we aren't here to start anything..."

"I don't care what you think you're here to do or not, Veronica Lake. I know you're used to everything bein' brought to you on a silver fuckin' platter, but I'm telling you need to turn your skinny white asses around and go find a sewing circle that's more your fuckin' speed..." and then she poked Piper in the shoulder.

Piper went very still. Her smile stayed in place, but her eyes went hard. She didn't mind a little verbal back and forth, and she might've even consented to leave if Janae'd continued to insist... but fuck if she didn't loathe being pushed around.

Janae was too oblivious and blinded by her own temper to see the change. She took Piper's silence for defiance and went to poke her again. "Maybe you don't hear so good, princess..."

I was trying to decide whether to just let it happen (Janae probably deserved what was coming just because of the Veronica Lake/princess comments), when someone grabbed Janae's wrist and gently directed it back down to her side. We looked over and saw Claudette, who had somehow materialized out of the crowd. She didn't look the least bit surprised to see us.

"What did I tell you about laying hands on the customers without cause, Janae?"

Janae looked over at her boss, "I was just tellin' them to leave and they wouldn't..."

"And why would you tell them that?"

"They're going to stir things up, Miss Claudette."

"You do not know that. They have done nothing yet, and besides I told them to come here when we saw them last."

Janae frowned. She'd been off getting the doctor or nun or whoever when that had happened. Clearly she hadn't been given the breaking news, and from her eyes I could see she resented it. "I'm the doorman, Miss Claudette, I should've been told..."

"You are told what you need to know. You should be polite to all until it becomes clear they don't deserve such courtesies. Now..." she gestured for the girl to let us in. Janae stared her down for a moment, but it was token resistance, the kind of pointless gesture said she didn't like it but she knew arguing the point wouldn't do much good. I'd seen Nicky give Red that staredown more than once. She huffed a sigh and stepped back towards the door.

Claudette tilted her head slightly, "Come, let me show you to a table," she began navigating us skillfully through the crowd. One of the booths had a card perched on it that said it was reserved. She led us to it and gestured for us to sit. It was clearly a place she reserved for VIPs. "Your drinks will be on me all night."

I raised my eyebrows at that, "You don't have to..."

"It is the least I can offer after what you did for Poussey. Mr. Ford makes the best 75 in Paris."

"Well, thanks..." I said, knowing that arguing about it much more wasn't going to do any good. And really, I wasn't one to turn down a free drink anyway.

She nodded and gave a half smile, then she moved away from the booth, melting back into the sea of people, half obscured by smoke and the dim lighting. Piper and I looked at one another. I grinned, "Well, doesn't seem like she's holding a grudge anyway..."

"Either that or she's bringing us 75s with poison in them," Piper replied, although she was smiling wryly.

"Such a ray of sunshine, Pipes..."

"I don't necessarily trust that people will follow the better angels of their nature, darling," she sighed, "But at least this music is less jarring than that 'experimental' jazz you forced me to listen to last week..."

I grimaced at the memory, "Look, I didn't know it was going to go on that long... who knew that you could even make a trumpet sound like a fucking dying cat."

A man appeared at the table and deposited two drinks. He bowed his head curtly then spun away without a word. I raised my glass, "Relax babe... we got in the door, no one's tried to kill or maim us yet. I'm calling it a success so far. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?"

Piper touched her glass to mine and muttered something that sounded a whole lot like, "Famous last words..."

Two hours later, Piper had allowed herself to relax and give in to the atmosphere and the music and just being with me. Bad experiences with alcohol in the past meant that she only drank the stuff in moderation, but she'd had enough that she had let the wariness she'd entered with fall away.

The band that had been playing when we'd come in had taken a break, and had been replaced by a four piece fronted by a tall woman in a stunning sequined red dress. She was belting standards in French and English.

Piper and I had been dancing for about a half hour and we were both parched. After the first round, the bartender had stopped bringing us our drinks personally, so I deposited Piper back at our table and fought my way through to the bar. I had to go to the far end of the bar, nearest the entrance, to find an open space. I waited a few minutes to catch Ford's eye and gave him a nod. He fixed the drinks efficiently and handed them to me.

Drinks in hand, I turned to go back to the table... just in time to see Janae go stumbling back into a table full of patrons, as someone who looked distressingly like one of the assholes who'd beaten up Poussey pushed her hard.

The sound of breaking glass, buckling wood and people gasping and yelling indignantly was louder than the music, and heads turned towards the commotion, even though the band gamely played on.

Having removed the obstacle, the asshole straightened up and glanced over his shoulder. He nodded at someone behind him in the stairwell and that someone emerged, stepping out into the room. It was a woman, black, tall, broad shouldered and middle aged. She was wearing an elegant black dress cut to emphasize her curves and a simple but very shiny diamond necklace. Her steps were unhurried, authoritative, almost regal. The way she carried herself reminded me a lot of Claudette. This woman walked in like she fucking owned the place.

But Claudette had an air about her of someone who was tough but fair, she may have taken no shit, she may have dabbled in some not quite legal business, but in the end she was still a human being. This woman though... she was smiling, and it looked for all the world like a genuine, open and friendly smile... but I'd known more than my fair share of two faced snakes and charming criminals in my time.

She might've been able to fool someone who hadn't dealt with Kubra Balik for most of her life, but I saw in her what I saw in him. Behind the veneer of charm in her eyes, there was an ice cold ruthlessness. I didn't know anything about her, but even if her muscle hadn't just put Janae through a table (and beaten the shit out of Poussey), I would've known she was bad fucking news.

Everyone around me was just as transfixed as I was. The woman came to a stop, looming over Janae, who was trying to shake off the shock and pain of landing in a pile of splintered wood and shattered glass. Her voice was deep and rich and soothing... not a trace of anger or hate in it, despite what was in her eyes. I was close enough that I could hear it over the music.

She spoke English, although whether it was because she wanted to minimize the number of people who might understand her, or because she was more comfortable in that language I had no idea, "Now, that was just rude, trying to keep me out of my own place... when I was here, we knew how to respect our customers... standards have certainly slipped..."

Before Janae could respond (and from the look on her face, even on the ground and dazed she was winding up to hurl some toe curling insults at the woman), Claudette appeared, once again seemingly out of nowhere.

"This is no longer your place, Yvonne, you are not welcome here... I thought that was clear when you left..."

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"You are not my friend, not any longer."

The woman's smile stayed in place, but her eyes narrowed minutely. "Oh that's how it is?"

"You know that's how it is."

"You should show me proper respect, Claudette. I saved your life more times than I can count..."

"And I, yours..." Claudette's tone indicated she was regretting that now. Given the situation, and what I'd seen this woman Yvonne's people do, I had to say I was kind of regretting it too. "The debts I owed you were paid in full when I let you leave here alive..."

"You didn't let me do a damn thing. No one does," Yvonne let her veneer slip, allowing a sneer to curl her lip before the curtain fell again, "But... if that's how you see it then that saves us time reminiscing over the old days."

"Good, then you can leave."

"I'm not leaving until you return what you stole from me, Claudette."

"I stole nothing from you, Yvonne. I told you when you left I would leave you be as long as you never came back. I kept my end of the bargain."

"Still a good liar, I see..."

"I am not lying to you. I have nothing that is yours. More to the point, I want nothing that is yours. I wanted a clean break from you. You know how I do not like a mess..."

"Then perhaps one of your little minions... or do they not ever disobey you...?"

"They did not take anything from you either..."

"Perhaps I should have a conversation with each of them... ask them personally."

Claudette's eyes narrowed, "As you did with Poussey...?"

The smile widened, "Exactly like that. And I was just getting started. If my property isn't returned..."

Before Claudette could respond, a voice rang out from the entrance, in French, loud and distinct, "Is there some trouble here?"

Yvonne glanced back and frowned. A uniformed policeman, dark haired, blue eyed, with one of those funny little mustaches that some Frenchmen still thought looked very dapper (they were incorrect), was standing in the doorway. He wasn't particularly large, maybe my height and of average build, but he had the air of a man who knew what he was doing. Even if he hadn't, he'd brought three friends with him. They were filling the space around the foot of the stairs, looking very much like they wanted an excuse to arrest someone... or at least make them wish they'd been arrested.

Claudette answered him, "No Gaetan, all is well. Miss Parker was just leaving..." Claudette looked at Yvonne, "Weren't you, Yvonne?"

The other woman let the mask fall completely, and the wave of anger that radiated from her was like a physical force. She took a step forward and leaned close to Claudette's ear. Gaetan and his pals tensed, but Claudette shook her head. Yvonne whispered something to her, her eyes blazing. Then she spun abruptly on her heel and headed toward the door, her gunman trailing her like a shadow

After a moment, Gaetan and his boys stepped aside to let her pass. She set one foot on the bottom stair and then turned back, "Oh and my name isn't Yvonne anymore. It's Vee..."

And with that she stormed up the stairs and out of the club, leaving everyone in her wake unsettled...

Everyone had been frozen in place while all of this was going on. The band had kept playing, desperate to make things normal, but the patrons had all been staring at the door. Even if they couldn't hear what was going on, they could tell it was serious. At some point Piper had left our booth and come to stand by my side. It was a sign of how absorbed I'd been in what had been going on that I hadn't even noticed.

"What was that...?" she muttered to me.

"I have no idea... but it wasn't good."

The room had begun moving again as one. Gaetan stepped forward and spoke quietly to Claudette. After a moment, he took his boys and left as well. Some of the patrons followed quickly, probably figuring that things were getting a bit too exciting and not wanting to be around if Vee decided the threat of the cops Claudette clearly owned wasn't enough to keep her away.

The remaining customers went back to what they'd been doing before. Never let it be said that the French couldn't be just as self interested as a bunch of Americans. As long as the drinks were still flowing and the music was still on, who cared whether people's asses were getting kicked... it just added to the ambiance.

Maxie the bartender had come around to help Janae, who was now sitting up but still looked both dazed and pissed off as a bag of wet cats. Claudette gestured and a couple of guys appeared out of nowhere and started cleaning up the broken table and broken glass with an efficiency that said that this wasn't the first time this sort of thing had happened.

Once everything was taken care of in the bar, Claudette headed up the stairs, probably to check on Cindy and the coat check kid. I assumed Cindy had been the one that had fetched the cops, given that the bartenders had been just as frozen as the rest of us.

"We should go," Piper said.

"What?"

"Alex, this was supposed to be a night to relax and. Now that misfortune appears to have found us again, I think it best that we leave before it decides it wants to take up permanent residence..."

I sighed, turning things over in my head. The whole thing had just been an intellectual exercise before. I'd just been giving in to my natural instinct not to leave anything alone but having laid eyes on Vee I realized just how serious this shit was. She reminded me way too much of guys like Kubra to want to voluntarily fuck with her, even if Claudette and her people seemed like they were on the level. Hell, they were the sort of people I could imagine being friends with, or at least having few drinks and a laugh or two with, if I got to know them better.

But the plain fact was I didn't know them, not really. As much as I hated it when good people got rolled over by bad, my only concern was Piper and her safety... well, that and keeping myself alive and upright and unbruised. Just because I could take a punch didn't mean I wanted to... and Vee sure as hell didn't seem like the type who would stop at a good old fashioned knuckle sandwich.

I realized I had the 75s in my hands. I handed one to Piper and drained my own in two. Then I put the glass down on the nearest table, which had emptied, and gave her a rueful shrug, "And I really liked this place too."

"I know, darling, so did I." She finished her own drink at a slightly more ladlylike pace than me, but still with some urgency, then set her own glass down. She took my arm and we headed for the stairs. I caught Claudette's eye as I glanced back to where she and Maxie were huddled together, speaking in hushed tones. She didn't look sore about us leaving. She knew how it was, probably better than me.

I'm sure there were some people who would call such self interest cowardly, but keeping my main concern focused on me and mine had kept me alive long past what I had figured my expiration date would be. It was when I stuck my neck out for other people that I tended to end up shot or stabbed or in the hospital for a month. Of course, doing so had also brought me one or two pretty great things, but I tried not to think about that... I might have a couple nights of restless sleep but it wouldn't be the first time.

Paris was supposed to be a place for new beginnings and peaceful living. Tonight, seeing someone like Vee and how fast she could turn a nice, normal pleasant night into a tense nightmare just re-doubled my determination to stay away. All I could do was hope that fate and circumstances would cooperate as well.

A/N- Plot thickening...