AN: Hello everybody! Here's chapter 25, and whoever can guess who Carry (or Casey) is talking about you get a virtual high-five! Anyway, onto the story!
Milky Way, Earth Systems Alliance Space, Local Cluster, Sol System, Earth, England, Oxford, Rugby Pub
July 7th, 2174—Earth Standard
"Are you even listening to me?"
Sawyer uncrossed her eyes and lazily turned her head to her new business partner, "Yes, I am. Question is, are you?"
Vincent glared, "What the hell are you going on about?"
The Donna pulled the straw she was playing with from her mouth and held it like she would a cigarette, "You spent the last twenty-six minutes talking about how you would take over your grandfather's business empire," she flicked her wrist at him, "You are aware that none of your plans will actually work, right?"
He crossed his arms, and leaned back in his booth, "And why not?"
"Because," Sawyer grinned, "You are an idiota1."
Vincent's glare deepened, "Show some respect, asshole. My grandfather—"
"Your grandfather this," she placed the straw back into her mouth, "Your grandfather that. Tell me, Vincenzo, does anyone besides your grandfather's business associates actually know you exist?"
"My name is Vincent."
"My best friend's name was Vince. He was also my sister's boyfriend," she gave him a threatening glare, "Don't you dare date my sister."
"I thought she was dead," he sneered, remembering his grandfather's warning too late as he bit his tongue. He could recall Don Cesare calling her an "unstable psychotic" and would kill "with no remorse."
Instead of flaying Vincent alive, Sawyer started laughing heartedly, "Yup, she is. Funny how life works or doesn't for that matter."
He didn't move, and she continued after sobering up, "Reason your little take-over won't work," she tucked the straw on the inside of her cheek, "Is because you didn't count on outside factors. The government is cracking hard on organized crime these days. You can't just walk into a store and demand they pay you for protection. They have cameras everywhere," she grinned again, looking borderline stupid with the straw sticking out of her mouth, "This isn't the 1940s, stupid. And you are not Michael Corleone," she tilted her head slightly, "You're more like Fredo. Useless, cowardly, and always a follower."
Vincent bit back a retort and instead said, "Then what would you do?"
"Dunno," she shrugged, "Be subtle? And smart?" she reached over and patted his shoulder, "Don't worry. We'll go slow so you can catch up."
He shoved her back to her seat, and she kept that stupid grin plastered on her face. Vincent stood to leave, and waited to see if she would follow, but all she did was tilt her head at him, "What's wrong, Vincenzo? Forgot how to walk?"
"I drove you here," he crossed his arms, glaring, "I'm supposed to drive you back."
She kept grinning at him and he was tempted to knock her teeth out just to make her stop, "After you've had five shots? Nu-uh, I don't like life but I don't want your ugly face to be the last thing I see. I'll walk back, thanks."
With a final glare, Vincent left the pub. After he was out of sight, Sawyer starting rubbing her sore cheeks while releasing a long exasperated sigh, "Cosa un cazzo."2
Samantha Traynor had horrible luck with dates, and this one was no different. Her date tonight—Casey, Carry, Samantha couldn't even remember—was conceited, and good lord, she was also so stupid. Samantha—tired of hearing about why she should vote for an egotistical bastard for the next ambassadorial election—excused herself to the bathroom.
Instead, however, she made her way to the bar. She sat on the stool, and straightened her dress. The bartender stood in front of her, and wiped a mug out with a cloth.
"What can I get you?"
"The strongest drink you've got," she muttered, rubbing her temples. A quick minute later, a shot glass was placed in front of her. She thanked the man, and downed it in one gulp. The liquor burned her throat, and she coughed.
"Choose that one drink that you wouldn't give your worst enemy," a coarse and accented voice sounded beside her, "And make it a double."
Samantha idly turned her head to the voice, and almost fell off her seat. The tanned woman turned her grey eyes to Samantha, and Traynor blushed. Samantha quickly turned her head down.
"Buonasera,"3 the woman smiled. Samantha looked up through her eyelashes. The woman wasn't like anything Samantha had ever seen before, except maybe in the vids, and Samantha was pretty sure that she started drooling. Despite the scar running down from her hairline to her jaw, and the other one perpendicular to it, the woman was…
Was…
"Beautiful."
A perfect white eyebrow arched, and thin lips curled upwards while Samantha blushed bright red.
"Oh God," she squeaked, "I'm so sorry, I—I didn't mean that. Not that you're not beau—beautiful, because you are! And I am making a bleeding fool of myself, this is absolutely mortifying, and—"
A melodic and soft laugh stopped Samantha's rant, "Sei adorabile.4 Sawyer Cavaliere. Nice to meet you…"
"Samantha Traynor," she replied, proud at herself for not stuttering.
Sawyer grinned, "Well, Ms. Samantha Traynor, allow me to buy you a drink."
Samantha was about to protest when a voice behind them drew their attention.
"Sammy," Sawyer and Samantha turned to see Casey—or Carry—seething, "Who's your friend?"
"Uh," Samantha cleared her throat, "This is Sawyer Cava—Cava," she huffed, and blushed slightly at Sawyer's silent laugh, "This is Sawyer. Sawyer this is…um…"
Carry—or Casey—crossed her arms, "What's my name, Sammy?"
Samantha smiled sheepishly, "I'm sorry, I'm not very good with names…"
Casey—or Carry—stomped over to the bar, picked up Sawyer's cup, and emptied its contents on Samantha's face; luckily Samantha closed her eyes just in time. The pissed off date then stomped out.
"Oh…Bloody marvelous," Samantha hissed, trying to wipe the burning alcohol from her eyelids. A hand on her elbow stopped her.
"Come on," Sawyer said, "Let's get you washed up."
Samantha allowed herself to be blindly led to the empty bathroom. Sawyer told Samantha sit on the counter, while Sawyer ran her handkerchief under the running water.
"I'm sorry about your date," Sawyer said, her eyes focused on her task.
"You didn't know," Samantha replied while sneaking glances at Sawyer's backside, "And I'm actually grateful."
Sawyer smiled, and twisted her handkerchief letting the excess water out before turning to Samantha, "Hold still." She raised it to her eyes, and lightly washed her eyelids. Samantha's heart went into overdrive.
"You don't have to—"
"I want to," Sawyer smiled, "So, what was her name?"
"Honestly, I don't know. It's either Casey or Carry," Samantha laughed, nervously, "My roommate set me up with her, I'm pretty sure he meant it as a prank too. She has a nice bod, but there was no chemistry between us, you know?"
"I know," Sawyer now moved to her cheekbones, and Samantha opened her brown eyes. Grey eyes flashed up to Samantha's, before returning to her cheekbones. Samantha fidgeted, and blushed. She could've sworn she saw a pink hue appear on Sawyer's cheeks, too.
"I'm sorry about your drink."
"It seems we both had a bad day today," Sawyer chuckled wearily, "How about we try our luck tomorrow with dinner?"
Samantha was sure her heart stopped beating for a good minute, "O-Okay."
Sawyer grinned.
Oxford, Traynor and Cortez's Flat
Samantha closed the door behind her, and leaned on it, sighing happily. Her roommate, Steve Cortez, looked up from his magazine and raised an eyebrow at her.
"So, how was the date?"
She grinned and picked up one of the many magazines on the table. She rolled it up and whacked the back of Steve's head with it. He flinched.
"That's for setting me up with her," she reprimanded, still grinning from ear to ear, "You could have told me she was boring."
"She was boring," he grinned, "If the date with Casey Smith was so bad, then why are you smiling?"
"That's her name! I knew it! I knew it was Casey!"
"You forgot her name? Okay, I need details here, Traynor. What happened?"
"Well, I have a date tomorrow."
"With Casey?"
"No, stupid, not with Casey. With Sawyer."
"Who's Sawyer?"
"She's this nice Italian woman who I met today. She helped me clean the alcohol from my face."
"Alcohol from your face? What?"
"Casey threw whiskey at me, well I think it was whiskey. Could've been Ryncol for all I know. God, Steve. Keep up."
He held up his hands, "Sorry, sorry. So nice Italian lady. Does she have a brother?"
"I don't know. I just met her. You're slow."
"Alright, sit," he patted the seat next to him, and she flopped on the couch, with a goofy grin on her face, "And tell me everything. From the beginning."
1 "Idiot" = Italian
2 "What a dick" = Italian
3 "Evening" = Italian
4 "You're adorable" = Italian