Bebop Blues: The Cover Sessions
Session 1: She Came in Through the Bathroom Window
It started with a deafening crash.
The crash and its cause were entirely unknown to the owner of the property from which the sound originated.
Thus, the owner without alarm or care, strode casually to inspect the nature of said sound.
The owner opened the door.
"Ow…"
The source, a purple-haired woman in a maroon halter top and leather pants, was rubbing her freshly injured knees.
The owner, a leggy woman with long, red, wavy hair and sparkling blue eyes, blinked at the woman she happened upon her floor.
The owner's black robe concealed the essentials, but her raised eyebrow showed proof that she was unaffected by her lack of modesty towards the strange intruder. She spoke. "I wasn't aware that my bathroom window marked entry for wayward women."
"Well-"
But the culprit on the bathroom floor was interrupted by a loud knocking she assumed to come from the front door.
The owner left the bathroom to respond to the new sound.
The culprit listened.
"I'm closed for the night, fellas."
"Light's still on, Doll," a man replied.
"My apologies for the false advertisement," the owner quipped.
A second man spoke. "We ain't here for you, anyways. We're looking for a woman."
The pause in conversation led the culprit to assume the owner was offering another raised brow.
"I thought you said-"
"Not your type of woman. A shrew. She caused us some trouble, and we need the debt repaid."
"Well, it's just me here."
"But-"
"Now, see yourself off my porch."
The door swung shut.
The owner called loudly from the foyer to the culprit after a few seconds. "They're gone."
The culprit stood and left the bathroom to introduce herself. Straightening her headband and tapping her booted feet against the floor, she extended her hand. "Name's Faye."
The redheaded woman was busy lighting a cigarette and ignored the outstretched hand.
Faye was put off, but remained grateful. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
Heavy silence.
The redhead sighed. "Judging by your intrusion, I'll assume you're not a local. You're welcome to crash until this blows over so long as you don't interfere with my work."
"Work?"
The redhead raised an eyebrow.
Damn eyebrow.
A knock sounded from the door.
Red opened it. "Closed for the night, bucko."
"The light's still on. That's false advertisement."
"My apologies."
And as the woman flicked off the porch light and deadbolted the door (complete with vintage chain), it hit Faye suddenly.
"Oh. Work."
Red smirked. "Girl's gotta eat." She chuckled. "Don't worry. There's a guest room you can use. It's got a lock and a bathroom of its own. No funny business; my customers won't even know you exist."
Faye stood stiff, a bit taken aback by the show of hospitality.
From a prostitute.
In Tharsis.
On Mars.
Thus was Faye's life.
"Name's Dali."
"Dolly?"
Dali leaned forward to see Faye eye to eye, as Faye was a good six inches shorter than she. "Dali, Dali Hendricks."
Faye blinked.
The woman was a bit overbearing.
Not subtly intimidating (like Julia).
Not cryptically unnerving (like Mai).
Just overbearing.
As though her presence filled the entire room and left no breathing space for anyone else.
Thus was Faye's life.
"So what's your story?" Dali asked.
She had stalked over to the kitchen where a bar overlooked the living room. She was mixing a drink as she spoke.
"My story?"
"Yeah. Everyone's got one. So what's yours? Do you go snooping through people's bathroom windows on a regular basis?"
"I cheated," Faye answered flatly as she took a seat at the bar.
"Ah. So that's what they were on about. What was the game this time?"
"Five Card Stud."
Dali raised an eyebrow. She seemed to speak with her face as much as she spoke with her mouth. "You've got balls."
Faye threw her head back and laughed, a true heart-warming song of a laugh. "Apparently."
"So what's your real story then? Not tonight's story of Faye, but the general day-to-day story of Faye." Dali slid a drink to her as she inquired.
Faye took a sip and nodded her thanks. "I'm a bounty hunter."
"So cheating at cards is a hobby?"
Faye laughed again. "More like an itch I can never quite scratch."
As if on cue from Faye's predictions, Dali raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her own drink. "Itch, huh?" She took a puff from her cigarette. "You got a last name?"
"Valentine."
"Itch you can't scratch sounds right. Last I heard, Poker Alice was retired."
"Do that many people really know me?" Faye asked in exasperation .
"Just around here. An old acquaintance of mine told me that Poker Alice's name was really Faye Valentine, and I've kept my eyes peeled ever since."
It was Faye's turn to raise her brow. "Why?"
But Dali was rifling through a drawer, searching for a physical answer to Faye's verbal question. She procured a deck of cards and began to shuffle. Saying nothing, she sat on the bar stool (the only other one she had) next to Faye and turned to face her as she dealt a round of Blackjack.
Faye watched her hands the entire time.
So long as the deck wasn't rigged, things were fair so far.
Faye looked at her cards.
King up. Queen down.
"I'll stay."
Without flipping her cards over, Dali called "Twenty-one."
Dali waited for a response, but none came.
She sighed. "Turn 'em over."
"Why me?"
"So you can be sure I don't have anything up my sleeve."
"You're wearing a robe, I hardly think that's an issue." Nonetheless, she complied with the request.
King up. Ace down.
Twenty one.
"I'll be damned."
Dali grinned wildly. "You deal."
"Let me look through these," Faye requested.
"Be my guest."
Finding nothing amiss with the deck, Faye began reshuffling the cards; Dali pulled her sleeves to her elbows.
Faye dealt.
"What'll it be?" Faye asked.
A Nine of Hearts was facing upwards. Without turning the other card over, Dali said, "Hit me."
Faye complied.
Three of Clubs.
"I'll stay," Dali finished.
Faye looked at her pair. The Seven of Spades was facing her, and the Five of Spades was face down. She placed another card with her pair.
Eight of Diamonds.
"Dealer's got twenty."
"Flip mine," Dali commanded.
Faye did so.
Nine of Hearts. Three of Clubs. Jack of Spades.
Damn.
"So, "Poker Alice," how does it feel?"
"How does what feel?"
"To meet the real legend? The real Poker Alice? The one who just gets lucky?"
Remembering a fateful day from years ago, Faye drew a soft smile.
"Legend says you'd be over 200 years old," she answered, leaning back and placing her arms behind her head.
"Really now?"
Faye leaned forward and lit a cigarette.
She cocked her head to the side as she looked Dali over.
"Yeah, but you don't look a day over 30."
And though she tried her best to help me,
She could steal but she could not rob.
(She thought I knew the answer.)