In Which Liza Insists That She Has The Right To Be Mentally Ill
Fahrenheit had been silent for about an hour now, her sobs dying out into the occasional sniffle that broke through the grey light of the basement. Nevada couldn't help it; she considered her soft heart her ultimate weakness, but she wanted so badly to help the girl. Strapped into a chair that was currently lying on its side, with all of her blood gathering on the left side of her body, there wasn't an awful lot she could do without someone to cut her out. She kept hoping, so badly, that someone would come down to fetch them and she could convince them to let her out. She had dirt on almost every male involved with the Brawlers. The women were more difficult, usually smarter, and their boyfriends didn't sit at the bar and have drinks and gossip with her every evening. The Vegas doll was certainly a pistol, and she wanted to remain that way. If she kept getting maternal of every girl that needed her help around here then that wouldn't be an option.
It was Brody's fault. If he hadn't gone and gotten her pregnant, then it would have all been fine. If Anna hadn't been hit by that damn car, she could have lived a normal, wonderful life with her mother. If Samantha Hendricks hadn't accidentally gotten the driver arrested because he pulled a damned gun on her when she hit him, then everything would have been peachy. And if that stupid driver hadn't been fairly high in the Vegas mob's chain of command, then Samantha wouldn't have had to flee the state and change her name. Unfortunately, life thoroughly enjoyed screwing Nevada.
In Mouse, she had seen the girl Anna might have been. Now, she was fighting hard not to do the same with Fahrenheit. The girl was 18, maybe 19 years old and probably utterly devoted to Caster. Almost everyone was these days- if they weren't, they were gone already. There were a few exceptions, of course. She and Jay were living proof of that. Caster had gotten nasty after Liza left. Everyone knew he was grooming her up to take over. There was only one explanation for getting someone in so young- he needed to condition her with meticulous care. He had had plenty of choice amongst the Brawlers, but he didn't want anyone who was already formed. He wanted the new boss to run the Brawlers by asking themselves, 'What would Caster do?'
Nevada supposed it was some bizarre god complex and desire for immortality that led him to mess up a little girl's life so badly. He saw something in her, something ruthless. Something hard and bitter and lonely, something made her so very vulnerable to his attempts at worming his way into her mind. Nevada wondered exactly what had made him so cruel. His origins weren't exactly a common topic amongst his gang, but although Nevada was more informed than the average muscle, even she knew very little of his mysterious life before. She had heard enough rumours to write a book about him, but the truth was more awkward to pin down. He had been born in Canada, she was fairly certain, and his father owned a large amount of land that was rich in oil. He came into lots of money from this, obviously, but died soon after in suspicious circumstances. Maybe accusing Caster was a bit of a stretch, but since he went off the map for years after that, Nevada it was a fairly safe assumption. After that though, there was nothing. Everyone was either ignorant or silent.
Set was the only person who may know, but she was too much of a boot-licking, greasy bitch to ever let it out. Phantom would know most everything about the Brawlers since long before Caster took over, but he was probably in the dark as much as everyone else when it came to the man himself.
One of Fahrenheit's sobs broke her reverie. Nevada couldn't just lie here, waiting to be rescued, especially with an injured girl on hand. In fact, the injured girl might be her best resource at the moment...
"Sugah? Are y'alright?" She asked softly. She knew it was a stupid question, but she needed to open a conversation somehow.
"No." There was no spite in her voice, just desperation. Nevada's heart cracked open. Bluetooth was strangely silent- normally he would make an irritating sarcastic remark. She supposed he was as upset as she was.
"Kay then, sweetie. Ah can get ya out of here and to a hospital, but ah need ya to do something for me." It was difficult, trying to make her voice sound gentle and not too patronising. She was awfully good at speaking, though, as a by-product of working in show business, and she taught everything she knew to Liza. Mouse had a knack for manipulation, which Nevada guessed was from spending too much time with Caster, and she could con a bum out of his last dollar, but she had nothing on her teacher. Nevada had grown up in Vegas- lying wasn't an art there, as much as a way of life.
"What do you need?" Fahrenheit asked, voice cracking under the pain she was enduring. Bluetooth snorted, and if she could have seen him, Nevada would have glared.
"There's a knife in my back jeans pocket. Ah know tha' you're in pain but if ya can get it and cut through just one of my bindings…" Nevada trailed off as she saw the girl start to stand. She was more than mildly impressed; obviously the kid was tougher than she had given her credit for. Nevada couldn't help wincing as the girl walked over, holding her wrist awkwardly; she could swear that there was bone poking through. The knife was poking out of the top of her pocket, and it was easy for Fahrenheit to grab it. Cutting wouldn't be too hard with her uninjured hand, but Nevada knew that there was a heavy risk of her slipping and slicing into her hand. The girl flinched so often that the singer wondered if she would pass out from the pain, but she kept sawing away at the ropes until finally Nevada told her to stop. "It's thin enough, now, I 'spect. If I just…"
With a flick of her wrist, her hand was unrestricted, and she could saw her way out of the other bindings. To free Bluetooth and herself didn't take Nevada five minutes, despite her lack of experience with the knife. She always kept it on her, but she had never had any use for it besides looking threatening before. Bluetooth looked at her and shook his head.
"What now then, hey? How the hell are we supposed to get out?" He was angry, obviously, but Nevada couldn't think for the life of her why.
"Excuse me? We go out the door, Mistah Confrontational." He opened his mouth to shout something, but she raised her hand. "Pull yourself together; we got a show to run. Ah don't need ya sending this south cause ya under the 'llusion tha ah betrayed ya, kay sunshine?"
"They'll all have left, now. Caster was really worked up about spottin' that girl. Sent almost everyone. Nails and Phantom are staking out with two teams of six." Fahrenheit offered.
"Ya know what? Ah think ah just started ta like the first half of organised crime." Bluetooth rolled his eyes. "Darlin', we gon' drop ya off at tha hospital. Then, Blue, ya and ah, we gon' rush off to wherever you sent Mouse and rescue her."
"Burgess. She's in Burgess." Bluetooth sounded off… He wasn't used to doing things other people's way, with Caster's exception.
"Good lad." Something clicked in Nevada's mind, "Not… ya idiot! Ya reckless deadbeat! Ya sent her there!" She screeched. How could he be so damn stupid!
"Yes, I didn't know they still had people watching thesupermax, and I didn't know that they were staying in Burgess!"
"They woulda checked there anyway! Ya spent months there after ya got out!"
"I made a mistake!"
"It could get her killed!"
"Shut up!" Fahrenheit screamed. "If you're both so worried about her, stop wasting your time arguing, and get me to the fucking hospital!"
Silence fell in the basement. Nevada stormed over to the door and slammed it open, jerking her head to tell the others to follow her. She crept up the stairs, but Bluetooth wasn't exactly light footed, and she hissed at him to stay silent. When they reached the top of the wooden staircase, Nevada saw four lower ranking men sitting at the table. Two of them had a gun at their hips. The woman thought about asking Fahrenheit why on earth she thought they were all gone, when there were clearly a group of dangerous men guarding their escape route, but decided against it. She would just have to distract them; she was good at that. Turning to the pair behind her, she gestured for them to push back, and walked up to the top of the stairs laughing obnoxiously.
"Thought ah'd cut 'im loose! Gullible…" She looked over at the group of men and swore. "Thought it was meant ta be empty!"
Nevada ran across the club like her feet were on fire. There was a trapdoor on the stage- if she could just get under that then she could crawl out backstage. The men wouldn't have a clue where the tunnel let out, and it locked from the inside as well as the out. Bluetooth watched nervously as she disappeared under the stage, madly worried about her. It was like this when they were linked by their love of Mouse, as well as their growing fondness for each other. She would take some stupid risk using nothing but her charms and good luck to keep her safe, and he would watch and operate safely in the background. He understood that she felt responsible for him- she did have five years on him, but it really didn't matter since he was 22, and spending 8 months in maximum security prisons aged him far beyond his peers mentally. He knew one of these days, one of her stupid plans wouldn't work and someone would get hurt. Probably her.
He grabbed Fahrenheit's good arm and bolted for the door- it was unlocked. The men wanted to go out for their smokes, after all, and having to constantly unlock it would be inconvenient. The morons were too busy trying to shoot Nevada through the floor to notice them, or the noise they made as they charged outside. Bluetooth glanced around the car park, searching for the oldest car. The new ones were a bitch to hotwire, even for a nerd like himself.
In less than five minutes, Jay Cromwell was flying along the roads in an open top Golf GTI that had to be at least twenty years old. He had slicked his brown hair back about three days ago- how long had they been in those chairs with only daily toilet breaks?- and by now it was flying everywhere in the wind. He was growing a beard as well; he would have to sort out his personal hygiene once he had saved Liza's life.
"What do you do if anyone other than Jamie knocks on the door?" Liza asked for the tenth time.
"Jaaack! Tell Liza to go already and stop worrying." Maggie whined. Liza had come to terms with her insanity and just accepted that she was trusting her sister into the hands of their shared imaginary friend. He had insisted, via paper, that if she stopped thinking she was mentally ill, then she would see him. She had insisted that she was an 18 year-old-girl with a five year-old to look after, who had escaped from the clutches of a life in organised crime only to have her house burned to the ground, killing her parents in the process, which all meant that she had every right to be mentally ill. In fact, he being insane was a very rational explanation.
He changed the subject, after that.
"Maggie! What do you do? I'll leave when you tell me."
"Climb out the window onto the branch and lie down flat. I'm not to make a sound until I'm sure they have gone then I shout for help and tell everyone I climbed up there but couldn't get down." Maggie had repeated this phrase about seven times in the past few minutes. Liza thought about having her hide somewhere less dangerous, but there wasn't a decent hiding place in the whole room. If the Brawlers came knocking (which they wouldn't, she reminded herself) Maggie would be found immediately.
"What don't you do?"
"I don't, at all, ever, by any means; attempt to climb down on my own." Again, Maggie could have repeated this phrase in her sleep.
"Good girl. I'll be five minutes. Ten at the longest. If I'm gone for more than an hour, go to Jamie's house. Okay?"
"Okay! You're only going to the shop!"
"But you shouldn't be left alone! If you weren't ill, I'd bring you!"
Apparently, snow days weren't all fun and games. Maggie had gotten a cold, which Liza was convinced was the flu and could kill her precious baby girl. She wasn't to get out of bed for anything short of an emergency, or Liza would kick her ass.
"Jack's here- I won't be alone!" Liza rolled her eyes.
"I'm so reassured." She muttered, as she shut the door behind her.
The trip to the shop was uneventful to say the most. Liza slipped on the ice a couple of times, and pondered the meaning of life for a while, but nothing actually happened. The little corner shop also happened to be out of horse radish, which was okay, because both Liza and Maggie hated it and it wasn't on their shopping list. No, the shopping trip was nothing to panic about.
What Liza found when she got back to the room, however, certainly was.
So, less Liza, more build up and disaster strikes. Short authors note because I'm going straight onto writing the next chapter, which should be up tomorrow. Huge thank-you to all reviewers: Jetafray Angel, mr. unicorn, CeeCee-chi, and JukeboxHero333. By the way, quick question, do you all like my little 'In Which' titles? I like them, but since they're far too long to fit into the chapter title field they seem kind of futile. Still, they're kind of a mini-summary, I suppose XD
