I seriously don't even know how I was capable of writing this in one day...but I think it was because of the reviews. They mean a lot, guys! Please review even more and enjoy the chapter!
It had been a few days since Johnny had been bailed out of the hospital.
Although he was mostly immobile, he could sometimes be spotted wandering around the Purgatory looking for some booze to chug. The doctors had told him not to drink for at least two weeks, and their warnings obviously weren't stopping him. Bottles had formed a trail that led to his bed.
Liz wandered over to his room from her office. They technically shared the room; both of their things had been tangled and intermixed on the floor. He almost never slept there, which was why she claimed the room mostly for herself.
She had actually been doing paperwork, which was a very foreign concept for any Saint. The Boss always dreaded doing things that involved her filling out forms. It was such an unpredictable process that usually ended with her slamming her fists onto her desk in anger.
This was why she wanted to hire a PR department.
However, even if they did have a sector to handle these things, she couldn't have sent these particular documents to them this time. These forms were personal business.
Most of the papers that had been emailed to her were regarding Aisha's funeral. It was yet another topic she was avoiding with Johnny, and now was the only time she would be able to address it with him. The funeral was scheduled for the next day, and if he wasn't able to go, they would have a big problem to deal with.
His door was cracked open a tiny bit, and she didn't even bother knocking. The door opened with a loud squeaking noise that made her friend cringe and roll over in bed. She looked at him with a gloomy expression and strode over to the side of the bed.
"You feelin' any better?" she asked. Johnny reached over for his glasses on the wooden nightstand next to him. He pulled the specs onto his face and his appearance became completely different. He looked like the Johnny everyone knew and loved. Without his glasses, his face seemed empty.
"Hell yeah. What about you?"
Liz looked down at her own wounds she had received while wheeling her best friend up to the roof to airlift him back to the Saints' hideout. They were minor compared to what she was used to getting. A small cut was healing on her cheek and she was nursing a bullet wound to the shoulder, which made it painful to raise her arms to shoot. She shrugged it off and hopped in next to him, hoping to get some rest after telling him the plans for the next day.
He sat up and looked at her for a minute before he noticed the small stack of papers she had dropped on the covers. His eyes glanced over them before quickly moving away; just seeing her name made him want to gag.
Liz leaned her head up to see what he had been looking at and bit her lip when he turned to her for an explanation.
"The funeral's tomorrow." she said simply. "You sure you're up for it?"
The man ran a hand through his hair and lied down next to his friend. He knew he couldn't tell her that he wasn't ready. In fact, he knew he would never be ready. Going to her funeral would be worse than being shot in the heart.
Now wasn't the time for him to procrastinate. He rolled over to face Liz and nodded.
"I'll be fine." he replied. His glasses covered up the solemnity on his face.
Liz looked at him and saw right through what his glasses were covering up. She had no idea how she was supposed to help him emotionally. Physically, she knew shooting a few rounds off at the Purgatory bar would probably ease his pain for a few hours.
"You're not over this yet, are you?" she questioned. Johnny's lips curled into a grimace.
"You think I'll ever be over this whole fucking thing? She meant the damn world to me!" he roared. Liz sat up and leaned against the headboard. Emotions were running through his veins as his rage began to leak out of him.
"If the Ronin do anything to fuck up her funeral, I'll snap their necks and bury them alive." he said. His tone had calmed slightly and he sat up in the same position as the woman next to him.
The storm of anger ended as soon as it started, and a deep sigh escaped his lips. Now seemed to be the perfect time for a smoke.
"Got a light?" he asked. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and leaned into her. Liz fumbled around in her pocket for her own smokes and a lighter. She pulled out a few shotgun shells, a condom, and a twenty before finding what she needed.
He chuckled at the contents she had pulled out. Only a Saint would carry those kinds of things around. Johnny couldn't help but wonder what she was hiding in her other pocket.
Liz leaned into him like she always did and flicked the lighter on. Their lips were only inches apart, and they could mutually smell the nicotine and alcohol on each other's breaths. The familiar scents lured them closer together, and the tantalizing aroma of the nearly burning tobacco between their lips made their contact seem surreal.
The end of Johnny's cigarette caught on the lighter and lit up, causing smoke to billow in between their faces. Liz leaned back and quickly lit up her own cigarette. She hid her small blush in the smolder.
She couldn't believe that she had almost kissed Johnny Gat.
Liz found herself clinging to the toilet bowl for most of the morning after the big party. It had been a rough night for her, and her dreams had been more like hallucinations. Recalling any of these visions would be more challenging than sniping a moving target two thousand feet away.
After what felt like hours, she stood up and flushed the foul smelling toilet and made her way to the mirror. Scratches adorned the piece of glass, but that didn't stop her from seeing her tired face. She pulled her hair back away from her face and felt the grease running through it. Her whole body felt totally disgusting.
She couldn't remember the last time she had showered. Soon, her clothes were strewn on the ground and her figure was blurred by a thin sheet of glass. Water cascaded down onto her dirty body, turning her skin back to its normal pale complexion. She scoured her scalp and her skin until it was totally clean from all of the shit she had encountered since her last shower. The combination of the heat of the water and the intense cleaning made her skin turn bright red to match her hair.
After she was totally dirt free, she leaned against the wall of the shower stall and inhaled the steam coming from the water. The same feeling of relaxation she had experienced briefly the night before began to come back to her. After closing her eyes, she slowly succumbed to the overwhelming feeling as she allowed her body to melt into the enticing heat.
Liz strode out of the shower an hour and a half later and went downstairs to see how the cleanup process was going. Glass was still partially littered everywhere from the windows that had been shattered by the helicopters the night before. All of the bodies had been cleaned up, but the stench had already percolated throughout the entire penthouse. The stench combined with the aroma of liquor, smoke and sweat was nauseating for any non-gang members. If she hadn't been used to it, Liz would probably be hung over at the toilet again.
Pierce walked over to her acrimoniously. He looked terribly sleep deprived, but considering how late he had stayed up the night before; he could have looked a lot worse. She looked up at him and was surprised at his bad mood.
"What's got your panties in a wad?" she teased. Pierce was less than impressed.
"I've gotta stay here and wait for the goddamn repair man when I have a meeting with a record exec!" he whined. She rolled her eyes at him.
"So you're getting into singing?" she asked. Pierce rubbed the back of his head.
"Now's not the time for questions." he said. He stomped past her and shoved a clipboard into her hands. "Just take that and hand it to the motherfucker when he gets here. I don't have time for this."
And, with that, Pierce hopped into the elevator and left.
Pierce totally owed her for this one.
Liz stepped into her Temptress and sped off into Sunset Park. The repairman her lieutenant had called ended up being an hour late, and when he finally arrived, stupidity was practically radiating off of him. She thrust the clipboard into his grip as fast as she possibly could before deciding to get out of the penthouse. She could only hope that her crew would stop the idiot from doing something stupid.
She sighed deeply and pulled her phone out of her pocket. Zimos had called during her argument a few minutes back. Assuming he needed her for something, she dialed up his number and began to drive towards his place.
He answered faster than she had expected.
"You called?" she asked.
"You ready to put your feet up yet?" he countered. His auto tuned voice sounded more irritating than usual.
Liz held her phone away from her ear for a moment to reflect on what he had asked. She had helped him get his business back up and running, but the Morningstar were still running around Steelport like annoying mosquitoes. If he was implying that he wanted to take a break, she sure as hell wasn't going to stop fighting.
"You're kidding, right? I thought we could get some more shit done with you back in business. We aren't just gonna sabotage the Morningstar this time. I want to get back at them for what they did last night." she replied. She heard an odd attempt at a chuckle come from the other end of the line.
"You gotta slow down, baby." he said. Liz grunted into the phone and went through a red light impatiently.
"No time." she refuted. Horns honked at her as she scratched the side of a car that had just passed her.
"Just come over to my pad, sugar. I got something here to show ya." he replied.
"Why should I?" she asked. She was already pulled up in front of the carwash, but coaxing him for a reason certainly wouldn't hurt anyone.
"Humor me." he said. Liz hung up her phone and put it back in its normal place before getting out of the car. Citizens of Steelport watched in horror as she sauntered into the carwash turned pimp pad. She made her way up the stairs and soon found herself inside Zimo's apartment.
"That's one ugly fucking painting." she exclaimed. In front of her was an Andy Warhol inspired piece that was painted to look like Zimos. Nine versions of him were neatly arranged on the canvas and were smothered with bright psychedelic colors. It was also the centerpiece of Zimos' mantle.
The pimp scoffed next to her.
"What the fuck do you know? That's a DeWynter sisters' original!" he retorted. Liz snorted and continued to analyze it.
"Since when did you roll with them?" she asked. He took a step back and sat down on the old couch by the fireplace.
"We used to be tight 'til the Syndicate rolled around. I've been of their Christmas list a long time. Don't you remember the goddamn pony show?"
Liz shuddered at the thought of reliving the pony show. It was one of the most disturbing things she had ever seen in her life.
"I'd rather not." she said as she sat down across from him. Zimos sighed and leaned back in his seat.
"Let's talk about you, baby. You got your crew over here and killed Phillipe Loren, didn't you? The Morningstar ain't got nothing on you anymore, and you're here to stay." He pulled out a beer from behind the couch and tossed it to her. She gladly accepted it and popped the cap off with her teeth.
"It's time to relax and cut loose, girl!" he continued happily. After grabbing a beer for himself, he rested his feet up on the worn coffee table and awaited the Boss' response.
"We can party once the work's done. Until the Morningstar are off the streets, I'm not taking a fucking break."
He was surprised at the woman's response; despite her actions most of the time, he thought that even she would want to take a short break. It was yet another assumption he had about her that was wrong. She was full of surprises, and he liked that.
"If that's how you wanna play it, go ahead." the pimp said. Liz made her way to the door and threw her nearly empty bottle in the trash bin.
"I'll call you if I need anything." she said.
Nighttime was quickly falling upon the city of Steelport. After going across town all day, the leader of the Saints felt completely empty. She hadn't had anything to drink since going to Zimos' place, and she was in desperate need of some nourishment. After calling up Shaundi, they both decided to meet at the Broken Shillelagh. The other woman was much less than thrilled to be meeting at an Irish pub, but Liz promised that it was the best place in town.
There was little parking on the street in front of the bar, which forced her to have to parallel park a block away. She could have easily parked in the middle of the street if she had brought her motorcycle. Unfortunately, this was not the case.
After ten minutes of screaming and cursing, she managed to get her vehicle into the spot. The cars around her were significantly less damaged than they usually were, which was a nice small accomplishment to end the day with.
She unzipped her jacket and strode into the Broken Shillelagh. Her friend was already there sipping on a glass of red wine.
"When was the last time you drank red?" she asked. Shaundi looked up from her drink and greeted the Boss with a genuine smile, which was a very rare sight to see. The poor woman almost never smiled anymore.
"College." she answered. Liz nodded her head and sat down at the table. Before she could even blink, she waved down the bartender that was on duty that night. It wasn't the owner's son this time. Surprisingly enough, it was a woman. When she returned, she brought over a glass of wine to match Shaundi's.
Liz stared at the glass. It was much daintier than what she was used to.
Shaundi let out a loud laugh and took a final sip out of her glass.
"Have you even tried this shit before?" she asked. Liz answered her with a smirk and brought the glass up to her lips.
"Are you crazy? That's like asking you if you've tried weed."
She downed the whole glass in seconds and then slammed it down onto the table. The force had been just enough to shatter the whole bottom of the glass. Shards went catapulting across the table, and the two Saints were spewing out laughter.
Liz stopped and watched Shaundi laugh for a moment. She actually looked really, really happy for the first time in a month.
"Now this is the Shaundi I used to know!" she said nostalgically. Shaundi paused.
"Really?" she asked. Liz nodded and stood up.
"Nevermind." she started. "C'mon, let's get outta here."
She threw a small stack of bills on the table to cover the glass and the wine, and followed by Shaundi, they both drove back to the penthouse.