A/N; A loud, really, really loud scream of a shout-out to;
Lilmonkey1507; Yes, yes, drama ;) haha. But that drama comes later, sadly enough. There are explosions of drama coming up. Eventually.
gothique4; Thanks for the idea :D I'm going to have to put that in the story, and then dedicate the idea to you or something, haha.
hope-against-faith; thanks! (:
Heartbeats77; OF COURSE SHE'S GONNA MEET DANI, IT'S DANI, I MEAN, COME ON, IT'S DANIIIIIIIII. (: Lawl. Dani plays a huge part in this. I'm just warning you. Like, huuuge.
ruthie-r89; No, the woman in the picture isn't Dani. It's someone named Charlene Kirk [who will come into play later], and I guess I kind of explain in this chapter how Dani played a part in it. And don't be distressed by Lucy they're hard suckers, they'll pull out of it. Thanks. (:
HeadbangGirl; Lawl. Good wow, bad wow? :p
littlebabydevon; AAAAAH, I HAVE MISSED YOU! It's all good :) I completely understand that. And I did write more. xD
CP2girls; I had a feeling you'd like that name ;D haha. And thanks!
the everchanging; Yeah. That's kinda my point, I guess; this stuff actually does happen. The monsters in the eyes, the horrible mothers - things happen. Joe makes people change ;) haha.
Well. This has been a long week. If this is a short chapter, I do apologize; I was off at youth camp. I got grounded [cough, for going on a date, cough] and so now I don't have a computer to write on, so I'm temporarily stealing my brother's. Blaaah. He has a frigging loud keyboard.
Anyways. Please, Read + Review and make my captivity better? Pretty please?
Chapter 10 - Smiling Betrayal
Despite his obstinacy, his stubbornness, and his general rule of not caring, there are a few things that Joe Liebgott knew; and one of these things was how a human being acts when enraged. The way Lucy's eyes glimmered, the way the color returned far too quickly to her previously pale cheeks, the way her hands clenched together into fists by her sides, the way her body tensed up as though it was a spring coiled, about to burst -
She was a weapon of mass destruction now; atomic, more potent than he had seen another being be since the war.
Lucy Vanessa Williams was dangerous.
And this dangerous weapon stared down at her indifferent mother with all the fury of a thousand tornadoes. Joe had been confronted with this look far too many times; he had seen it on comrades, on foes, and hell; he had worn it himself. It was the expression that let the room know that blood would be spilled, shit would go down, and fuck, if there was anything you could do to stop it.
Blood, red blood, scarlet blood; life source. It was a murderous look.
He touched her elbow, at a loss for anything else to do; she turned, forcing the fire of her gaze upon him. Another man would have winced, cringed, shriveled to dust, or apologized.
He was not another man.
"Come on," he whispered, "she's not worth it. Come on."
The words were fighting words, enough to cause her mother to rise out of the chair as if this was the greatest insult ever handed to her.
"What did you say -"
But Joe didn't spare the woman a single glance as he laid a hand in the small of Lucy's back, perhaps to give her direction, perhaps to let her know that she wasn't alone. Perhaps because it was simply right.
And all Lucy knew was that the red haze was disappearing as that comforting hand in the small of her back gave her small, reassuring gestures as they walked out of the room, down the hallway, past the stairs, through the door, outside, ignoring the screeches coming out of the mouth of the woman who proclaimed that she "would not be called worthless by cabbie trash."
...
All she could hear in her ears was her mother's screams of cabbie trash; and that was all - not the sound of the engine running underneath her, not the sound of the automobiles passing by her as she stared vacantly out the window. She hadn't asked Joe where they were going and he hadn't volunteered the information.
Joe.
She looked over to glance at his expression, but the look she gave him was not a glance. He caught her.
...
All Joe could think of was the woman seated on the other side of the seat; her movement as she peeked over at him told him that she was now no more dangerous than a butterfly, and it was as if she had never been more.
He cleared his throat slightly, hoping she'd take the hint that he was not about to begin talking and if there was to be a conversation, she was going to have to start it, but it was as though she never heard him as she continued in the intense study of his face and the secrets it held.
They arrived; the automobile pulled to a stop, and finally, Joe looked over to find those eyes aimed directly at him. They stared at each other for a moment, he bearing a neutral expression, and she wearing one of a surprised nature, knowing that she had been caught in her sin of staring.
But surprise was a reflex that she got over quickly, and when she had achieved that, she managed a soft smile. Now it was Joe's turn to stare, yet she didn't seem to notice as she opened her door and slid out of the car.
All he could wonder as he followed her out of the automotive was; how the fuck is she still smiling?
...
Joe's apartment was rented from a lazy old lady who didn't care enough to take care of it, and it showed. The furniture was either threadbare or sagging, possibly both.
All Lucy really thought as she looked around was that she had never really thought of Joe as poor; his pride didn't allow it. Somehow, he carried himself with a fire that never allowed someone to consider his amount of wealth, or lack of.
She sat down on a couch absently, opening her mouth after a few moments of silence.
"She always told me that... that I could do it, you know? When I told her that I wanted to become a journalist, she was the one who encouraged me." Her hands were twisting together again; her eyes were glancing downwards to avoid his knowing gaze, the same knowing gaze that was pointed directly at her, even as he stood above her.
Somehow, she didn't have to say any more. Even without looking up at him, she somehow knew that he understood - so much so that if she had truly thought about it, it might have frightened her.
The sofa depressed, creaking before settling and growing silent at the new weight added on by Joe's act of sitting down next to a girl who was still twisting her fingers. He didn't say a word as his eyes focused on the patterns her digits were creating, and she chose that moment to glance upwards at him. A sad sort of smile crossed her face, more of a smirk than anything else.
"Mothe - she always told me not to fidget. Sometimes she called it my only flaw. But she always seemed to find another fault, so it can't be the only one, right?"
For the first time, he spoke, his voice emerging from his larynx with all the huskiness of a man who had not truly spoken in years;
"Don't listen to her. She doesn't know what the fuck she's talking about."
...
Cabbie trash, his ass.
And Lucy. Lucy. For the first time, he looked at her and perceived her to be beautiful, with her blonde locks and large, dark green eyes, with her full lips and high cheekbones.
And Joe Liebgott had not thought of another woman being beautiful since her. Since the woman he'd always known was off-limits, since the woman he had known from the very beginning was off-limits.
She was another man's girl.
...
When betrayed, a woman wonders how her own mother could do it, could do such a thing. And, in the end, her mind is a blank, her thoughts undefined except by the movement she makes with her own body. To trust someone completely, so completely as to follow their advice to the letter in consistancy with a matter of life and career - and to lose that trust completely -
Earth-shaking, ground-breaking, mind-hollowing.
These were the thought running through Lucy Williams' mind as she twisted her fingers around, around, around. Around.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This couldn't be how it was just because it was. If there was one thing that Lucy knew right then and there, it was that it wasn't supposed to be like this. She didn't know anything else, any other experiences, but her own mother -
All her life, she had lived with a woman, called her Mother, let her inspire the life she had led and the course her career had taken, and she had thought that her Mother Dear loved Lucille Darling.
There had to be a kind and loving motice, but for all her searching, she could not find a single one.
...
He could see the emotion written across her face, playing in her eyes, drowning in her lips, whispering through the pads of her fingers as they whispered around, around. Around.
And if he had a choice, he would bitch-slap the fuck out of the shitty excuse for a woman who claimed to be the biological mother of a young girl who was too good to be stuck with such a woman. Yeah. Bitch-slap the living daylights out of that hoity-toity, high-end fuck-up of maternal instincts.
Cabbie trash, his ass.
"Fuck her, Luc." He murmured, somehow knowing that his fingers making contact with her skin would help communicate his meaning. "She's not worth it. Fuck her."
The glimmer was back in her eyes, but this time, it wasn't of anger. This time, the anger was replaced by sadness, and the glimmer wasn't from a dangerous human being, but a human in danger of crying. And somehow, Joe knew that Lucy wasn't going to cry. Maybe once, two months before, she would have. But she was not the same creature she had been two months before.
"The reason I asked about Dani's name," she said, rubbing at her eyes and focusing desperately on Joe's touch to keep from crying, "was that she was the reason I found the photograph in the first place. I was fascinated by her; I wanted to know more. Then I realized that I couldn't find her anywhere because she'd probably changed her name so she could join."
Then she finally fell silent once again, her fingers stilling as she realized Joe's hand was rubbing soothing circles on her arm.
"Would it make you feel better if you met her?"
Her eyes grew large as she stared at him incredulously, too caught up in disbelief to believe what she thought her ears had just heard, yet hopeful that she had heard right.
...
Her smile is welcoming, Lucy registered in her mind absently as she found herself shaking hands with the woman who was infamous for serving in the midst of men - the woman who reporters had tried time and time again to find but repeatedly failed. And all the information that was stored was; she doesn't look like a pin-up sort of girl.
The woman's handshake was warm, firm, comfortable, confident, her voice was smooth, even, and a pretty smile was on her lips.
...
With a small, absent smile, Joe heard Lucy's voice in his mind, resonating through again as he recalled what she had said; I was fascinated by her.
Only one thought resonated through his own mind before it was silenced and trampled to the ground; Aren't we all?