Even The Best Fall Down Sometimes

Somehow Marisol found herself sitting beside Miguel on the neighbouring bollard, foot tapping, one eye on Rosa's front door, the other on Johnny Lawrence's. The television was still blaring from within, Marisol just about able to make out the sound of two voices arguing above what sounded like an episode of Judge Judy. Obviously this Johnny Lawrence had company and she and Miguel were being a crowd.

To her annoyance, Rosa's door opened, only for November to come out, clutching a large stuffed octopus to her chest. "What you doing out here, Mom?" she asked, brow furrowing.

"Catching a tan," Marisol said smartly. "What's with the squid?" she then frowned, jerking her chin at it.

"It's an octopus actually."

"Squid, octopus, whatever-ous."

"Whatever, Mom."

"Well, where did you get it?"

"Miggy gave it to me," November said, looking confused as Miguel frantically mimed at her to shut up. "He has a collection of them in his closet."

Marisol opened her mouth to make another smart remark, only to clamp it shut again as the Firebird unexpectedly drew up in front of them. "November, go back inside," she said quickly, getting to her feet at the same time as Miguel, the movement making her side ache afresh.

"Why?" November protested.

"Just go!"

Muttering under her breath, November went back inside as Johnny Lawrence got out of the Firebird. Marisol crossed her arms over her chest, body tensing as he clocked them waiting. A shadow fell across his face, making him look about as happy as Marisol felt. He walked slowly towards them, almost dragging his feet, carrying a beige jacket bundled up in his hand.

"Menudo," he acknowledged abruptly, before glancing at Marisol, only to do a comical double-take. "Hot Stuff?" he said in disbelief, taking in her topknot and tracksuit bottom ensemble, such conservatism at odds with her usual exhibitionist style.

"Um, I just wanted to say thank you," Miguel said hastily, stepping in front of Marisol, "you know, for yesterday."

Johnny looked at him for a long moment. "All right," he then said coldly, "you said it." He made to unlock his door, only for Miguel to block him.

"So, last night, was that, like, Tae Kwon Do or jujitsu or MMA or something?" Miguel reeled off, all but bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, his enthusiasm overcoming his attempts to play it cool.

Johnny glanced oddly at Marisol again. "It's karate," he then said even more abruptly, rubbing the back of his head, Marisol viciously hoping it hurt. "Old school karate."

"Do you think – do you think you could teach me!?" Miguel said in a wild rush. "Like Yoda and Luke Skywalker!?"

"Miguel," Marisol sighed whilst Johnny looked at Miguel as if he was mad.

"What!?" he exclaimed, glancing between Miguel and Marisol, before it percolated what Miguel was saying. "Oh, no way, man," he said, vehemently shaking his head. "We are not going there."

"Come on," Miguel pleaded, shaking off Marisol's warning hand, "when school starts, these guys are going to make my life miserable!"

"It's not my problem."

"But if I just knew a little of what you know" –

-"Forget it!" Johnny snapped. "I don't do karate anymore, alright? Besides, I need to find a job. I don't have time to teach dorks. Get your aunt to help you. She seems to have self-defence down to a T." He glared at Marisol again, obviously remembering her acrobatics from last night.

Marisol resisted the urge to deck him, knowing she would just get the worst of it. "Oh, I'm no expert," she said sweetly instead, her exotic accent becoming acidic, "but kicking butt seems to be your God-given gift. I'm sure the community would greatly benefit from such awe-inspiring skill."

"Yeah, you should totally open a karate school," Miguel said enthusiastically, making Marisol and Johnny turn to him at the same time, Miguel mistaking Marisol's sarcasm for mutual support, "Marisol could help you with the admin stuff. She's got previous."

"Previous as in criminal record previous?" Johnny drawled, glancing at Marisol again, his blue gaze briefly flickering over her.

"What, like you?" Marisol drawled back, tilting her head to the side. "Your rap sheet could probably paper my walls."

Johnny's jaw tightened. "Look, it's a dojo," he then said, turning back to Miguel, "not a karate school, a damned dojo, and I am not opening one, and I am not teaching you, end of. Hell, I'm not even sure if I'm allowed to be around kids right now." He made to go past Miguel, only to hesitate. "Look, just don't be such a dork," he then said awkwardly, rumpling up his blonde hair, "maybe it'll stop your ass being kicked."

Miguel stared at him with disappointed eyes, seeing Johnny meant it. He then turned and left, Marisol watching him go back into Rosa's apartment. "Hey, bozo," she said as Johnny rammed his key into the lock with more force than necessary, "you could have handled that better by letting him down with some dignity on your part."

Johnny turned around. "What, I should have jumped on his back or something?" he snapped. "Or get flung through the air, assaulting a classic car while I'm at it?"

Marisol stared at him. "He stuck up for you down at the station," she then spat, "he backed you up to the hilt. He didn't have to do that. The cops were trying to convince him otherwise so they'd at least have something to show for their efforts."

"What, you're not pressing charges on those pricks?" Johnny frowned, getting side-tracked.

"The cops said there was no point," Marisol said, voice cracking, "those kids have currency, or their parents do anyways. It's likely it'll all get swept under the carpet which should suit you fine, right? You'll walk, they'll walk, happy freaking days."

Johnny scoffed. "Well, watch me walk away, then, princess," he then said sarcastically, finally letting himself into the apartment. "As much as somebody on probo can."

Marisol stared at his broad back, startled. "Wait, those assholes are charging you!?" she said in disbelief.

Johnny just ignored her, letting the door go on her face instead.

"Hey!" Marisol snapped, following him inside, fury lending speed to her feet. "I'm not done with you, Blondie!" – She crashed into him, her nose striking spine, the impact making her reel. It was like literally hitting a brick wall. "What the hell!?" she exclaimed, stepping round him, clutching her face.

Johnny instantly flung out his arm, all but catching her in the stomach, nearly knocking her off her feet again, forcing her to catch hold of him in turn. "Who the hell are you!?" he fired at a woman sitting on the sofa, who was wearing a bright blue floral patterned top and watching his television.

"You got Encore?" the woman asked nobody in particular, raising an eyebrow at Marisol, before calmly pointing the remote at the screen and turning the volume up.

Johnny stared at her incredulously before turning to Marisol, making her let go of him. "Look, you should just go, okay?" he said, grabbing her by the elbow instead, only for him to freeze as the sound of a familiar Brooklyn burr emanated from the corner of his kitchen. "Sid," he said wearily, letting go of Marisol as his stepfather stopped poking around the contents of his freezer, fixing him with a beady eye instead.

"Those little red stickers that say further reduced?" Sid said, brandishing a packet of bacon at him. "That means spoiled. You know that, right?" He caught sight of Marisol, catching him offguard. "And talking of tainted meat," he then observed, eying her with disdain, "who's the broad? She looks like she's seen better days."

"So have you, Mickey Rooney," Marisol snapped, rubbing her aching nose whilst simultaneously clutching her side again.

Sid scrunched up his wrinkled face. "You really paying for that, Johnny?" he said inbetween a sudden burst of hacking coughs. "She's doing you over! But then class costs, don't it?"

Stung, Marisol stepped forwards, only for Johnny to grab her again. "You couldn't afford me, old man!" she spat as Johnny hurriedly steered her by the shoulders into his bedroom.

Rolling his eyes, Johnny finally let go of her, putting himself between her and the door, just in case. "I told you to leave," he snapped at her as he then flung his jacket onto the unmade bed. "But did you listen, no you didn't!"

Marisol dismissed this with a wave of her hand. "God, your dad's a dick, man," she complained, turning on the spot, surveying the Spartan-like surroundings, "but I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it!?"

"He's not my dad," Johnny said wearily, before tugging his long-sleeved top over his head, making the white singlet underneath ride up for a moment, revealing a strip of toned stomach. Marisol stared before catching herself, only to stare again as he then chucked his top onto the bed beside his jacket, her gaze travelling over his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his skin strongly tanned from working outside, finally seeing what she suspected in the flesh.

Catching herself for the umpteenth time, Marisol shook her head, thinking she must be losing her mind. "You-re – you're a dick, you know that!" she feebly flung at him, relieved that he seemed unaware of her ogling. "A Grade A dick!"

"With a tiny wang, right?" Johnny said dryly, going over to the closet.

"Screw you!" Marisol snapped as he took out an orange, blue and white checked shirt, ignoring her latest insult. She ran her hand across her face, careful to avoid her still aching nose, trying and failing to keep her cool. "Look, are we done here?" she then demanded as he then shrugged the shirt on, Marisol struggling to sound threatening. "Because I am so done! More than done!"

"Hey, I never invited you in," Johnny said, rounding on her, "and I can't let you leave just yet in case you assault ole Sid through there. You know, just in case you jump on his back or something."

Marisol's jaw tightened, seeing he wasn't letting that drop anytime soon. "I won't touch him, I swear," she said coldly, not thinking herself in any condition to fight, and having no inclination to either, especially not after the other night. "But you are another matter entirely, Blondie," she added before she could stop herself, only to realise too late how that sounded, Johnny's incredulous eyebrows saying it all.

"Hold that thought, Hot Stuff," he drawled, before grabbing her by the elbow again and steering her through the doorway, only to find Sid standing there, blocking their path. "For God's sake, Sid!" he exclaimed, instinctively tightening his grip on Marisol. "Move your ancient ass, will you!?"

"Not until I've said my piece," Sid said acerbically.

"Then say it," Johnny snapped, "and go. I don't even know why you're here in the first place."

"I'm here about last night," Sid snapped back, "since I bailed you out – again!"

"I've never asked you for anything," Johnny said through gritted teeth as he then guided Marisol past Sid.

"I think that little incident at Applebee's would've taught you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Last night happened for good reason, old man," Marisol snapped, tearing herself out of Johnny's hold, her words making Sid look at her with sudden spiteful interest.

Johnny bowed his head, shoulders suddenly slumping. "Hot Stuff, just… just don't," he then said, half closing his eyes as he went over to the sink, giving up on her as a lost cause. "If you want to be helpful, just pass me a pack of peas from the freezer," he finished, leaning against the draining board, face now weary.

Marisol stood there for a moment, the wind abruptly ripped out of her sails, before reluctantly doing as he asked. As she did, Sid went over to the mantelpiece, becoming distracted by a photo of a pretty blonde girl, making Marisol glance over, curious. "You know, when I met your mother, John," he mused, picking it up with his gnarled fingers, "she really knocked my socks off." He stared down at the picture, a leer crossing his lips. "Beautiful. Blonde. Tan. Tight," he reminisced out loud, making the woman on the sofa pull a pained face, Marisol having long since guessed she was Sid's home-help or similar.

Still feeling unsure, Marisol then passed the pack of frozen peas over to Johnny, experiencing an unexpected pang of sympathy for him as he winced at Sid's wordplay. With another wince, he pressed the pack against the back of his head, glancing at Marisol as he did, his expression unreadable.

"Don't get sucked into taking care of that schumck, lady," Sid fired at Marisol, making her head snap round, "that's the mistake I made."

"Yeah, you were the stepfather of the century, Sid," Johnny said, rolling his eyes.

"High praise, coming from a first class daddy like you," Sid retorted, startling Marisol, finding it hard to envision Johnny Lawrence as a loving father, "and another word of advice, lady, don't let him knock you up," he aimed at Marisol again. "The Invisible Man is around more than him."

Marisol's nostrils flared, becoming sick of Sid's censure. "Oh, we're trying very hard for a tiny bundle of joy," she drawled, draping herself across Johnny, running her hand across his broad chest. She ignored his incredulous glance, only concentrating on smirking at an incensed Sid, enjoying infuriating him even further.

"Your mistake, lady," Sid snapped. "How old is Robby now anyways?" he then demanded, jabbing his finger at Johnny. "Fifteen, sixteen?"

"Look, man, just get the hell out here," Johnny snapped, pushing Marisol off him, "all of you!"

"Well, before I take my exalted leave of you," Sid said as his home-help reluctantly got up off the sofa, "I'm buying you out, boy." He whipped a folded piece of paper out of his suit pocket. "I promised your mama I would take care of you always," he then said, shoving the paper at Johnny, leaving him no room to refuse, "but even in this case, she would cut me some slack."

Johnny opened the piece of paper, only to see it was a cheque written to the tune of a few thousand dollars. "I'd rather be homeless than take money from you," he said, blue eyes suddenly blazing as he ripped the cheque in half, before casting the pieces aside. "Now go."

Sid stared at him before shaking his head and leaving, hollering at his home-help to get her ass into gear. For a moment, Marisol just stood there, not sure what to do with herself. Glancing helplessly round Johnny's living room, not missing the alarming amount of alcohol on display, Marisol realized too late she was looking at a life just as messed up as hers.

Even the best fall down sometimes Even the wrong words seem to rhyme…